Rosa Mundi, Ethel May Dell [epub e reader TXT] 📗

is it? Who is it?" she sobbed. He answered her instantly, rather curtly.
"I--Baring. What's the matter? Something gone wrong?"
She felt strong hands lifting her, and she yielded herself to them, her panic quenched.
"Oh, Major Baring!" she said faintly. "I didn't know you!"
Major Baring made no response. He held her on her feet facing him, for she seemed unable to stand, and waited for her to recover herself. She trembled violently between his hands, but she made a resolute effort after self-control.
"I--I didn't know you," she faltered again.
"What's the matter?" asked Major Baring.
But she could not tell him. Already the suspicion that she had behaved unreasonably was beginning to take possession of her. Yet--yet--Hyde must have seen she was alarmed. He might have reassured her. She recalled the look in his eyes, and shuddered. She was sure he had been drinking. She had heard someone say that he did drink.
"I--I have had a fright," she said at last. "It was very foolish of me, of course. Very likely it was a false alarm. Anyhow, I am better now. Thank you."
He let her go, but she was still so shaken that she tottered and clutched his arm.
"Really I am all right," she assured him tremulously. "It is only--only--"
He put his arm around her without comment; and again she yielded as a child might have yielded to the comfort of his support.
After some seconds he spoke, and she fancied his voice sounded rather grim.
"I am going your way," he said. "I will walk back with you."
Hope was crying to herself in the darkness, but she hoped he did not notice.
"I think I shall go and meet Ronnie," she said. "I don't want to go back. It--it's so lonely."
"I will come in with you," he returned.
"Oh, no!" she said quickly. "No! I mean--I mean--I don't want you to trouble any more about me. Indeed, I shall be all right."
He received the assurance in silence; and she began to wonder dolefully if she had offended him. Then, with abrupt kindliness, he set her mind at rest.
"Dry your eyes," he said, "and leave off crying, like a good child! Ronnie's at the club, and won't be home at present. I didn't know you were all alone, or I would have brought him along with me. That's better. Now, shall we make a move?"
He slung his horse's bridle on his arm and, still supporting her with the other, began to walk down the stony road. Hope made no further protest. She had always considered Ronnie's major a rather formidable person. She knew that Ronnie stood in awe of him, though she had always found him kind.
They had not gone five yards when he stopped.
"You are limping. What is it?"
She murmured something about the stones.
"You had better ride," he decided briefly. "Rupert will carry you like a lamb. Ready? How's that?"
He lifted her up into the saddle as if she had been a child, and stooped to arrange her foot in the strap of the stirrup.
"Good heavens!" she heard him murmur, as he touched her shoe. "No wonder the stones seemed hard! Quite comfortable?" he asked her, as he straightened himself.
"Quite," she answered meekly.
And he marched on, leading the horse with care.
At the gate of the shadowy little compound that surrounded the bungalow she had quitted so precipitately he paused.
"I will leave the animal here," he said, holding up his hands to her.
She slipped into them submissively.
The cry of a jackal somewhere beyond the native village made her start and tremble. Her nerves were still on edge.
Major Baring slipped the bridle over the gate-post and took her hand in his. The grip of his fingers was very strong and reassuring.
"Come," he said kindly, "let us go and look for this bogey of yours!"
But at this point Hope realized fully that she had made herself ridiculous, and that for the sake of her future self-respect she must by some means restrain him from putting his purpose into execution. She stood still and faced him.
"Major Baring," she said, her voice quivering in spite of her utmost effort, "I want you--please--not to come any farther. I know I have been very foolish. I am sure of it now. And--please--do you mind going away, and not thinking any more about it?"
"Yes, I do," said Major Baring.
He spoke with unmistakable decision, and the girl's heart sank.
"Listen!" he said quietly. "Like you, I think you have probably been unnecessarily alarmed. But, even so, I am coming with you to satisfy myself. Or--if you prefer--I will go alone, and you can wait for me here."
"Oh, no!" said Hope quickly. "If--if you must go, I'll come, too. But first, will you promise--whatever happens--not to--to laugh at me?"
Baring made an abrupt movement that she was at a loss to interpret. It was too dark for her to see his face with any distinctness.
"Very well," he said. "Yes; I promise that."
Hope was still almost crying. She felt horribly ashamed. With her hand in his, she went beside him up the short drive to the bungalow. And, as she went, she vehemently wished that the earth would open and swallow her up.


IV
HER NATURAL PROTECTOR

They ascended to the veranda still hand-in-hand. It was deserted.
Baring led her straight along it till he came to the two chairs outside the drawing-room window. They were empty. A servant had just lighted a lamp in the room behind them.
"Go in!" said Baring. "I will come back to you."
She obeyed him. She felt incapable of resistance just then. He passed on quietly, and she stood inside the room, waiting and listening with hushed breath and hands tightly clenched.
The seconds crawled by, and again there came to her straining ears the cry of a jackal from far away. Then at last she caught the sound of Baring's voice, curt and peremptory, and her heart stood still. But he was only speaking to the _punkah-coolie_ round the corner, for almost instantly the great fan above her head began to move.
A few seconds more, and he reappeared at the window alone. Hope drew a great breath of relief and awoke to the fact that she was trembling violently.
She looked at him as he came quietly in. His lean, bronzed face, with the purple scar of a sword-cut down one cheek, told her nothing. Only she fancied that his mouth, under its narrow, black line of moustache, looked stern.
He went straight up to her and laid his hand on her shoulder.
"Tell me what frightened you!" he said, looking down at her with keen blue eyes that shone piercingly in his dark face.
She shook her head instantly, unable to meet his look.
"Please," she said beseechingly, "please don't ask me! I would so much rather not."
"I have promised not to laugh at you," he reminded her gravely.
"I know," she said. "I know. But really, really, I can't. It was so silly of me to be frightened. I am not generally silly like that. But--somehow--to-day--"
Her voice failed her. He took his hand from her shoulder; and she knew suddenly that, had he chosen, he could have compelled.
"Don't be distressed!" he said. "Whatever it was, it's gone. Sit down, won't you?"
Hope dropped rather limply into a chair. The security of Baring's protecting presence was infinitely comforting, but her fright and subsequent exertion had made her feel very weak. Baring went to the window and stood there for some seconds, with his back to her. She noted his height and breadth of shoulder with a faint sense of pleasure. She had always admired this man. Secretly--his habitual kindness to her notwithstanding--she was also a little afraid of him, but her fear did not trouble her just then.
He turned quietly at length and seated himself near the window.
"How long does your uncle expect to be away?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"I never know; he may come back to-morrow, or perhaps not for days."
Baring's black brows drew together.
"Where is he?" he asked. She shook her head again.
He said nothing; but his silence was so condemnatory that she felt herself called upon to defend the absent one.
"You see, he came here in the first place because I begged so very hard. And he has to travel because of his book. I always knew that, so I really can't complain. Besides, I'm not generally lonely, and hardly ever nervous. And I have Ronnie."
"Ronnie!" said Baring; and for the first time he looked contemptuous.
Hope sighed.
"It's quite my own fault," she said humbly. "If I hadn't--"
"Pardon me! It is not your fault," he interrupted grimly. "It is iniquitous that a girl like you should be left in such a place as this entirely without protection. Have you a revolver?"
Hope looked startled.
"Oh, no!" she said. "If I had, I should never dare to use it, even if I knew how."
Baring looked at her, still frowning.
"I think you are braver than that," he said.
Hope flushed vividly, and rose.
"No," she said, a note of defiance in her voice. "I'm a miserable coward, Major Baring. But no one knows it but you and, perhaps, one other. So I hope you won't give me away."
Baring did not smile.
"Who else knows it?" he asked.
Hope met his eyes steadily. She was evidently resolved to be weak no longer.
"It doesn't matter, does it?" she said.
He did not answer her; and again she had a feeling that he was offended.
There was a considerable pause before he spoke again. He seemed to be revolving something in his mind. Then at last, abruptly, he began to talk upon ordinary topics, and at once she felt more at her ease with him. They sat by the window after that for the best part of an hour; till, in fact, the return of her brother put an end to their _tete-a-tete_.
By those who were least intimate with the Carteret twins it was often said that in feature they were exactly alike. Those who knew them better saw no more than a very strong resemblance in form and colouring, but it went no farther. In expression they differed utterly. The boy's face lacked the level-browed honesty that was so conspicuous in the girl's. His mouth was irresolute. His eyes were uncertain. Yet he was a good-looking boy, notwithstanding these defects. He had a pleasant laugh and winning manner, and was essentially kind-hearted, if swift to take offence.
He came in through the window, walking rather heavily, and halted just inside the room, blinking, as if the light dazzled him. Baring gave him a single glance that comprehended him from head to foot, and rose from his chair.
Again it seemed to Hope that she saw contempt upon his face; and a rush of indignation checked the quick words of welcome upon her lips.
Her brother spoke first, and his words sounded rather slurred, as if he had been running.
"Hullo!" he said. "Here you are! Don't get up! I expected to find you!"
He addressed Baring, who replied instantly, and with extreme emphasis:
"That I am sure you did not."
Ronnie started, and put his hand to his eyes as if confused.
"Beg pardon," he said, a moment later, in an odd tone of shame. "I thought it was Hyde. The light put me off. It--it's Major Baring, isn't it?"
"Yes; Baring." Baring repeated his own name deliberately; and, as by a single flash of revelation Hope understood the meaning of his contempt.
She stood as if turned to stone. She had often seen Ronnie curiously excited, even incoherently so, before that night, but she