Читать книгу The Dilemma - George Tomkyns Chesney - Страница 8

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CHAPTER III.

Yorke and Spragge had engaged themselves to luncheon with the latter's cousin, Captain Sparrow, the assistant commissioner, who occupied a small house within the residency-grounds formerly belonging to the assistant-resident; and to this the two young officers repaired after their morning call. In the verandah was a lesser band of red-coated myrmidons, who ushered the visitors into a sitting-room, and proceeded to the adjacent court-house to summon Captain Sparrow. That gentleman suspended the progress of the suit which he was engaged in hearing, and presently joined them with languidly affable greetings.

"You gentlemen look quite warm in your red jackets," observed their host, as they sat down to luncheon; "but pray unbutton them if you like, and make yourselves comfortable. Liberty hall this, you see—a mere bachelor's den." Captain Sparrow, however, was dressed himself with a degree of care unusual in an Indian official at his daily work; and as he said this, he threw a glance round the room, by way of drawing attention to its appointments.

"Bachelor's den indeed!" cried his cousin; "none of your humbug, Ted. You know that you always set up for being a swell. See what it is to be in civil employ, Yorke! But you're a bigger swell than ever since you've been home. I suppose you brought all these nobby pictures back with you," he added, looking up at the walls, which were adorned with various specimens of the graver's art; "and all this new plate. Never saw a bachelor's house like it before, leave alone a den."

"Ah, you wouldn't think much of this if you saw the well-appointed establishments some men have in England; the thing is not to be done with native servants, and especially by a busy man like myself, who have no time to look after my household; still I like to have things neat about my little place."

"Little place indeed!" replied Spragge. "Why, you might put the whole of our bungalow into this room, roof and all—couldn't he, Arty? Well, at any rate, you don't want much preparation before changing your state. Only one more thing wanted to complete the arrangement, eh? And now here is the lady arrived already and at hand. I envy you your opportunities, my dear fellow. See what it is to be a swell civilian instead of a poor N.I. sub. I declare I must take to studying the language or mugging up history, like Yorke here. However it's too late to cut you out this time, I suppose."

"Oh, as to that," said his cousin, with a pleased simper, "you mustn't suppose that there is anything serious in that quarter. You harum-scarum soldiers fancy that if a man doesn't like living in a barn he must be bent on matrimony. For my part, I think marrying is a mistake, at any rate till you get on in life. It ties a man down too much; and children may be all very well in England, with a proper staff of nurses to look after them, but they are dreadfully in the way out here. When a man goes home with a certain position and no encumbrances, you see, the pleasures of society are open to him, and he is free to travel, and so on. A very agreeable life I can assure you; but it comes to an end too soon. The only thing left now is to look forward to one's next furlough." And as the speaker concluded he cast his eyes over the table-cloth, as if surveying there the refined pleasures offered by a ​view of Europe to the cultivated man without encumbrances.

His cousin winked at Yorke by way of hint that he was going to draw the captain out.

"No, no, Ted, that won't do. You don't mean to tell me that you're not going to make the running in that line. Wouldn't I, just, if I had your chances! Why, I suppose you are in and out of the residency like a tame dog?"

Captain Sparrow was evidently nettled at his cousin's want of reverence, displayed, too, before a third party; but he condoned it in consideration of the opening afforded to talk about himself, so replied, drawing up both himself and his shirt-collar—

"If you mean that I have the entrée of Cunningham's house, just as he has of mine, of course. But we don't carry the Jack-and-Tom school of manners which appears still to pervade native infantry messes into civilized life, my dear fellow. Of course I could invite myself there at any time; but now Cunningham is so much occupied with his daughter that he leaves all culchery business to his deputy—and in fact you must excuse my running away presently, but I have scarcely a minute to call my own; and, to tell you the truth, I don't much care about making one of the party when they are simply en famille—one must draw the line somewhere." And Captain Sparrow looked mysterious, and stopped, as evidently inviting further inquiry.

Tills was at once made, Yorke feeling more interested than ever in the conversation.

Captain Sparrow explained that Miss Cunningham had brought out a French servant with her, a lady's-maid, at any rate she came out as a second-class passenger on board the steamer; but now, forsooth, her mistress had established her as a sort of companion, and she took her meals at the same table with Mr. Cunningham and his daughter, when they were alone.

"I shouldn't mind that a bit," said Spragge, "if she's nice-looking, and don't eat with her knife."

"That's hardly a criterion, my good fellow," replied the captain, with an air of superiority; "if you had travelled on the Continent, you would have seen quite elegant women at the tables d'hôte hipping up their food with their knives. That's merely an insular prejudice of yours. Oh no; the girl is well enough in her way, but still there is an etiquette in these things."

"I shouldn't care a bit about etiquette, for my part," said Spragge. "If she's a pretty girl, I'd rather take her in to dinner any day than Mrs. Polwheedle. But I shouldn't be able to talk her lingo, which would be a drawback."

"You need not be alarmed on that score. Justine understands English perfectly, and talks it well enough, and without the vulgarisms some people employ; but still there is a propriety in these things you know—est modus in rebus."

One crumb of comfort Yorke carried away, as he mounted his pony to ride home. Sparrow was not a favoured suitor, as appeared at first sight to be his natural position. Unless a thorough dissembler, which was evidently not his character, he could not be at present even a suitor at all. This conclusion reconciled Yorke to having partaken of luncheon under his roof, which at one time during the visit had seemed to the young fellow as opposed to honourable dealing. This at any rate was some consolation, as he cantered on his pony by the side of his companion, depressed, and yet not hopeless.

"Something like a young lady, by Jove!" cried Spragge, breaking the silence at last, as, on nearing the cantonments, they reduced their pace to a walk. "You don't often see such beauty as that in these parts. And no end of money, too, I expect. Old Cunningham must have saved handsomely; for beyond giving dinners and keeping elephants, he can't have had anything to spend his pay on. All those fellows in red tunics are kept up for him by government, and, I daresay, half his private servants too, if the truth were known. It's only we poor beggars of subalterns who have to pay for our bearers."

"How much does the commissioner get?"

"Four thousand one hundred and sixty-six rupees a month, the pay of twenty ensigns; think of that, my boy: the mind almost refuses to grasp such a sum. My cousin Teddy gets a thousand a month, which is pretty well, and spends it, too, on his pictures, and side-dishes, and fiddle-faddle. However, he's not half a bad fellow, Ted isn't, after all; he stood security for me once, when I was harder up even than I am now. See what it is to get a civil appointment. I wish I could make up my mind to pass; but ​those black classics are the very deuce, and that's a fact. However, a scholar like you is sure to get something or other one of these days, and become a swell like Teddy; and then when some Miss Cunningham of the future comes out, it will be your turn to go in and win."

Too late then, thought Yorke, bitterly, as the other's random talk shot home. It must be now or never. And what chance is there that the prize will keep so long, till I am ready to claim it? Yet that night the young fellow sat up at work till late after mess; and all next day, while his chum was at a cricket-match, he stayed in the little bungalow over his books, only leaving them towards sundown, when he mounted his pony and took the way of the course.

The mall or course of Mustaphabad was about two miles long, bordered by trees, and bounded on each side by the mud-banks which enclosed the rectangular spaces allotted for officers' houses—spaces some of them converted into neat gardens, some laid out in grass, some left in a state of nature, a small desert of baked mud or sand, as the case might be. The road was a wide one, macadamized for carriages in the middle, a sandy track on either side left soft for riders, and watered to keep down the dust.

The prospect was not lively, nor was there a soul yet to be seen, for he had come out too soon; he had not spoken to any one all day; life seemed flat, stale, and unprofitable; and as he rode at foot-pace along the mall, his heart sank within him. What if a military career was to be always like this?

Presently a moving object appeared in the far perspective, which in the fulness of time developed into a buggy and horse with two occupants, Tirtell of the 8oth N. I. driving his young wife. So, after all, matrimony was possible even for a subaltern on regimental duty. And for a moment a vision passed across his mind, as of himself driving a buggy with some one by his side, her dress touching him, and even the idea sent a thrill through his frame. Could it be possible the time should ever come when some loved object should be driving by his side, looking frankly into his face, and smiling, and he talking to her at his ease, as Tirtell did to his wife? Everybody said Mrs. Tirtell was very clever, which certainly Tirtell was not, yet he was talking quite without embarrassment, and his wife was laughing at what he said. No; this would be too much happiness for a human being. Besides, he could not associate such a noble presence as Miss Cunningham's with a buggy—nothing less than a barouche would befit so peerless a creature. But why build up these foolish castles in the air? Miss Cunningham the bride of a penniless subaltern of native infantry! And yet why despair? Surely his patient efforts to qualify for preferment would be rewarded before long. Everybody said that India was the country where any man could win success without interest or favour, merely by deserving it. And if Mr. Cunningham should be averse to his daughter's marrying an officer of irregular cavalry or the quartermaster-general's department (for to one or other of these goals did his ambition now point), why, surely her father's interest could easily obtain for him an assistant commissionership; and once in the civil line, the road to wealth and preferment was easy.

A current of ideas somewhat in this fashion passed through the young fellow's mind, as his pony with loose rein bore him slowly along the mall, now beginning to show a sprinkling of visitors. A couple of hussar officers in their braided frock-coats and trousers with gold-lace stripes, mounted on their Arab chargers; a couple of horse-artillery officers, distinguishable from the cavalry only by red instead of gold stripes; Chupkin of the irregulars, in a uniform designed by his commanding officer after a Continental tour, which had borrowed a trifle in lace and embroidery from every cavalry costume in Europe, his wife riding his second charger; the brigadier, a stout red-faced man, mounted on the Cabulee cob which had been the subject of discussion the day before; foot-artillery and infantry officers, blue and red jacketed, and more or less well-mounted; married captains driving their wives in buggies; married field-officers, with their wives and children in barouches and pair; Despenser, the superintending surgeon, who had a family at home as well as in India, and was supposed to be heavily in the banks, in a barouche and one; some forty or fifty people distributed over the two miles or so of road, with the substitution of coloured uniforms for white linen jackets and trousers, gave the place quite a lively appearance by contrast with the monotony of the hot season, just ended. Mrs. Polwheedle, of course, was there, seated in an extra large barouche, as became a brigadier's lady, and being short-sighted, merely raised a double eyeglass and ​stared at our subaltern as she passed him, thereby checking him short in his half-made bow; and see, can it be?—yes, it is—that must be the commissioner's carriage with the two mounted orderlies riding behind it—Mr. Cunningham himself, who had never been known to take a drive on the mall before, with his daughter beside him. She will never recognize me, thought the youngster bitterly; how can she be expected to remember one face in particular among so many new ones as she must have seen during the last two days? But no, he was mistaken, for as the carriage passed quickly by, Miss Cunningham, turning towards him, gave a gracious bow and smile, and Yorke felt himself turning scarlet as he lifted his cap in reply. How different, thought he, while recovering his composure after the salute—how different from the sort of bow one generally gets from our young ladies! Miss Glumme, for instance, gives a solemn bend without moving a muscle of her face, as if performing a mournful duty; while with Miss Peart a jerky little nod of the head would suffice. A queen could not have been more gracious, and surely she looks even more beautiful in a bonnet than without one. Who says that the present fashion in bonnets is unbecoming? I suppose the little brunette in the back seat was the French maid Sparrow was so indignant at having to sit down to table with. The blockhead! her waiting-woman will be quite as good as most of our station-belles, I'll be bound. No woman could be long in her presence without gaining something of grace and refinement from the contact.

Thus musing, the young fellow turned his pony's head, and cantered back after the carriage towards the other end of the course, where most of the company were now assembled by the band-stand; for this was the evening of the week when the band of the hussars played out.

The commissioner's carriage was drawn up with the others round the stand, a ring being left between the performers and the horses, in which the various children, alighted from their parents' carriages, were at play. On one side of it was that of Mrs. Polwheedle, leaving no room for a horseman to interpose. The other side, that on which Miss Cunningham sat, was open; but just as Yorke with the courage of despair was about to ride up to it, the vacant place was taken by Colonel Tartar of the hussars. Yorke could not but admire the little colonels's self-possession, as he sat lounging in the saddle, flapping the flies away from the neck of his handsome Arab pony with the brush at the end of his riding-cane, and talking to Miss Cunningham with as much ease as if he were laying down the law in the ante-room of his own mess. Ah! what a position was that! a bare twenty years' service and the command of a regiment of dragoons, for the senior lieutenant-colonel was brigadier on the staff at another station. Who might not feel at ease under such circumstances, even when speaking to Miss Cunningham? More wonderful than the colonel's self-possession was that he should presently move away from his vantage-ground, and steer his horse round to the other side of Mrs. Polwheedle's carriage. A sudden fit of boldness seized Yorke, and he rode up to the vacant place. Miss Cunningham did not notice him at first, her head being turned in the other direction, and for a few seconds Yorke sat listening like the rest to the conversation between Mrs. Polwheedle and the colonel.

"Really, Colonel Tartar, you must come some day to dine with us and taste our home-fed pork, it is quite delicious. A little pork is such a nice change, you know, after the hot weather; and my appetite is always so delicate, I need a change after the constant poultry and mutton. The brigadier always sees the pigs fed every morning, or else I go myself; we are most particular about looking after them, I can assure you."

Just then Miss Cunningham turned her head, so that Yorke had no longer any ears for the conversation. Her smile on recognizing him was as frank and winning as before, as she said—

"Oh, Mr. Yorke, I am afraid you must have thought us very inhospitable in not asking you and your friend to stay and lunch yesterday—but I had no idea you had ridden so far; it was dark when we passed through cantonments on the morning of our arrival, so it was not till our drive here this evening that I discovered what a distance it is from our house."

Yorke stammered out something in reply about its not being of the slightest consequence, and the delight it would have been to him to accept the invitation; and then gaining composure added that they had not had to ride back unrefreshed, for they lunched with her neighbour, Captain Sparrow.

"Oh! Captain Sparrow?" said Miss ​Cunningham, again smiling, and this time, as it seemed, with a gleam of humour in her eye; "yes, he is a very near neighbour of ours—almost our only one; we took early tea with him this morning. How nice and neat his house is; I had no idea that you Indian bachelors were so luxurious."

The feeling of jealousy with which Yorke listened to anything like commendation about even the appointments of Captain Sparrow's establishment was mingled with a sort of momentary gratification that Miss Cunningham should be favourably impressed with an Indian bachelor's household, albeit through such instrumentality; but an immediate reaction passed through his mind against permitting a deception on the point, and he hastened to reply—

"You mustn't judge of bachelors' bungalows by Captain Sparrow's. He is always regarded as the model swell of the place, and besides, he is in civil employ. A bachelor's bungalow is a very humble affair generally."

"But it seems a very luxurious arrangement to have a house all to yourself. The bachelors I have known have generally been satisfied with two rooms, or even one."

"But we don't generally have a whole bungalow to ourselves. Mr. Spragge and I live together, for instance; and after all, there are only three rooms in the bungalow altogether, so that we don't exceed your allowance." But at this point the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of two more cavaliers, and became general, partaking for the most part of inquiries as to how Miss Cunningham had enjoyed her voyage, and what sort of a journey she had had up the country, and what she thought of India, Justine the maid looking straight to her front the while, as if not supposed to listen. "A parcel of boobies Miss Cunningham must think us," said Yorke bitterly to himself all the while, to talk such twaddle. At last the interview came to an end; the young lady, laying her hand gently on her father's arm—he was a man not given to general conversation, and had been leaning back in the carriage without talking—said that it must be time to drive homewards, as they were expecting friends to dinner. As the carriage turned round she gave them each a gracious bow, and Yorke riding off slowly to the mess-house to dinner, employed himself in trying to recall each word spoken by her, and to conjure up the tremulous sounds of a voice that still thrilled through him; for Miss Cunningham could not ask a simple question without throwing a certain amount of unconscious pathos into its low tones.