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

had never seen him like this. She had never imagined before for a single instant what now she abruptly knew without the shadow of a doubt.
A feeling that was like physical sickness came over her. She looked from Ronnie to Ronnie's major with a sort of piteous appeal. Baring turned gravely towards her.
"You will let me have a word alone with your brother?" he said quietly. "I was waiting to see him, as you know."
She felt that he had given her a definite command, and she obeyed it mutely, almost mechanically. He opened the door for her, and she went out in utter silence, sick at heart.


V
MORE THAN A FRIEND

Two days later Hope received an invitation from Mrs. Latimer to join her at the Hill Station for a few weeks.
She hesitated, for her brother's sake, to accept it, but he, urged thereto by some very plain speaking from his major, persuaded her so strongly that she finally yielded.
Though she would not have owned it, Hope was, in fact, in sore need of this change. The heat had told upon her nerves and spirits. She had had no fever, but she was far from well, as her friend, Mrs. Latimer, realized as soon as she saw her.
She at once prescribed complete rest, and the week that followed was to Hope the laziest and the most peaceful that she had ever known. She was always happy in Mrs. Latimer's society, and she had no desire just then for gaiety. The absolute freedom from care acted upon her like a tonic, and she very quickly began to recover her usual buoyant health.
The colonel's wife watched her unobserved. She had by her a letter, written in the plain language of a man who knew no other, and she often referred to this letter when she was alone; for there seemed to be something between the lines, notwithstanding its plainness.
As a result of this suspicion, when Hope rode back in Mrs. Latimer's _rickshaw_ from an early morning service at the little English church on the hill, on the second Sunday after her arrival, a big figure, clad in white linen, rose from a _charpoy_ in Mrs. Latimer's veranda, and stepped down bareheaded to receive her.
Hope's face, as she recognized the visitor, flushed so vividly that she was aware of it, and almost feared to meet his eyes. But he spoke at once, and thereby set her at her ease.
"That's much better," he said approvingly, as if he had only parted from her the day before. "I was afraid you were going on the sick-list, but I see you have thought better of it. Very wise of you."
She met his smile with a feeling of glad relief.
"How is Ronnie?" she said.
He laughed a little at the hasty question.
"Ronnie is quite well, and sends his love. He is going to have a five days' leave next week to come and see you. It would have been this week, but for me."
Hope looked up at him enquiringly.
"You see," he quietly explained, "I was coming myself, and--it will seem odd to you, of course--I didn't want Ronnie."
Hope was silent. There was something in his manner that baffled her.
"Selfish of me, wasn't it?" he said.
"I don't know," said Hope.
"It was, I assure you," he returned; "sheer selfishness on my part. Are we going to breakfast on the veranda? You will have to do the honours, I know. Mrs. Latimer is still in bed."
Hope sat down thoughtfully. She had never seen Major Baring in this light-hearted mood. She would have enjoyed it, but for the thought of Ronnie.
"Wasn't he disappointed?" she asked presently.
"Horribly," said Baring. "He turned quite green when he heard. I don't think I had better tell you what he said."
He was watching her quietly across the table, and she knew it. After a moment she raised her eyes.
"Yes; tell me what he said, Major Baring!" she said.
"Not yet," said Baring. "I am waiting to hear you tell me that you are even more bitterly disappointed than he was."
"I don't see how I can tell you that," said Hope, turning her attention to the coffee-urn.
"No? Why not?"
"Because it wouldn't be very friendly," she answered gravely.
"Do you know, I almost dared to fancy it was because it wouldn't be true?" said Baring.
She glanced up at that, and their eyes met. Though he was smiling a little, there was no mistaking the message his held for her. She coloured again very deeply, and bent her head to hide it.
He did not keep her waiting. Very quietly, very resolutely, he leaned towards her across the table, and spoke.
"I will tell you now what your brother said to me, Hope," he said, his voice half-quizzical, half-tender. "He's an impertinent young rascal, but I bore with him for your sake, dear. He said: 'Go in and win, old fellow, and I'll give you my blessing!' Generous of him, wasn't it? But the question is, have I won?"
Yet she could not speak. Only as he stretched out his hands to her, she laid her own within them without an instant's hesitation, and suffered them to remain in his close grasp. When he spoke to her again, his voice was sunk very low.
"How did I come to propose in this idiotic fashion across the breakfast-table?" he said. "Never mind, it's done now--or nearly done. You mustn't tremble, dear. I have been rather sudden, I know. I should have waited longer; but, under the circumstances, it seemed better to speak at once. But there is nothing to frighten you. Just look me in the face and tell me, may I be more than a friend to you? Will you have me for a husband?" Hope raised her eyes obediently, with a sudden sense of confidence unutterable. They were full of the quick tears of joy.
"Of course!" she said instantly. "Of course!" She blushed again afterwards, when she recalled her prompt, and even rapturous, answer to his question. But, at the time, it was the most natural and spontaneous thing in the world. It was not in her at that moment to have answered him otherwise. And Baring knew it, understanding so perfectly that no other word was necessary on either side. He only bent his head, and held her two hands very closely to his lips before he gently let them go. It was his sole reply to her glad response. Yet she felt as if there was something solemn in his action; almost as if thereby he registered a vow.


VI
HER ENEMY

Notwithstanding her determination to return to Ghantala after the breaking of the monsoon. Hope stayed on at the Hill Station with Mrs. Latimer till the rains were nearly over. She had wished to return, but her hostess, her _fiance_, and her brother were all united in the resolve to keep her where she was. So insistent were they that they prevailed at length. It had been a particularly bad season at Ghantala, and sickness was rife there.
Baring even went so far as positively to forbid her to return till this should have abated.
"You will have to obey me when we are married, you know," he grimly told her. "So you may as well begin at once."
And Hope obeyed him. There was something about this man that compelled her obedience. Her secret fear of him had not wholly disappeared. There were times when the thought that she might one day incur his displeasure made her uneasy. His strength awed even while it thrilled her. Behind his utmost tenderness she felt his mastery.
And so she yielded, and remained at the Hill Station till Mrs. Latimer herself returned to Ghantala in October. She and Ronnie had not been together for nearly six weeks, and the separation seemed to her like as many months. He was at the station to meet them, and the moment she saw him she was conscious of a shock. She had never before seen him look so hollow-eyed and thin.
He greeted her, however, with a gaiety that, in some degree, reassured her. He seemed delighted to have her with him again, was full of the news and gossip of the station, and chattered like a schoolboy throughout the drive to their bungalow.
Her uncle came out of his room to welcome her, and then burrowed back again, and remained invisible for the rest of the evening. But Hope did not want him. She wanted no one but Ronnie just then.
The night was chilly, and they had a fire. Hope lay on a sofa before it, and Ronnie sat and smoked. Both were luxuriously comfortable till a hand rapped smartly upon the window and made them jump.
Ronnie exclaimed with a violence that astonished Hope, and started to his feet. She also sprang up eagerly, almost expecting to see her _fiance_. But her expectations were quickly dashed.
"It's that fellow Hyde!" Ronnie said, looking at her rather doubtfully. "You don't mind?"
Her face fell, but he did not wait for her reply. He stepped across to the window, and admitted the visitor.
Hyde sauntered in with a casual air.
He came across to her, smiling in the way she loathed, and almost before she realized it he had her hand in a tight, impressive grip, and his pale eyes were gazing full into hers.
"You look as fresh as an English rose," was his deliberate greeting.
Hope freed her hand with a slight, involuntary gesture of disgust. Till the moment of seeing him again she had almost forgotten how utterly objectionable he was.
"I am quite well," she said coldly. "I think I shall go to bed, Ronnie. I'm tired."
Ronnie was pouring some whisky into a glass. She noticed that his hand was very shaky.
"All right," he said, not looking at her.
"You're not going to desert us already?" said Hyde; still, as she felt, mocking her with his smile. "It will be dark, indeed, when Hope is withdrawn."
He went to the door, but paused with his hand upon it. She looked at him with the wild shrinking of a trapped creature in her eyes.
"Never mind," he laughed softly; "I am very tenacious. Even now--you will scarcely believe it--I still have--Hope!"
He opened the door with the words, and, as she passed through in unbroken silence, her face as white as marble, there was something in his words, something of self-assured power, almost of menace, that struck upon her like a breath of evil. She would have stayed and defied him had she dared. But somehow, inexplicably, she was afraid.


VII
THE SCRAPE

Very late that night there came a low knock at Hope's door. She was lying awake, and she instantly started up on her elbow.
"Who is it?" she called.
The door opened softly, and Ronnie answered her.
"I thought you would like to say good-night, Hope," he said.
"Oh, come in, dear!" Hope sat up eagerly. She had not expected this attention from Ronnie. "I'm wide awake. I'm so glad you came!"
He slipped into the room, and, reaching her, bent to kiss her; then, as she clung closely to him, he sat down on the edge of her bed.
"I'm sorry Hyde annoyed you," he said.
She leaned her head against him, and was silent.
"It'll be a good thing for you when you're married," Ronnie went on presently. "Baring will take better care of you than I do."
Something in his tone went straight to her heart. Her clinging arms tightened, but still she was silent. For what he said was unanswerable.
When he spoke again, she felt it was with an effort.
"Baring came round to-night to see you.