A Bottle in the Smoke Part 21

"One of the artillery officers and his wife from the Mount, no doubt,"

he muttered.

Great, therefore, was Alfred Rayner's surprise in coming to closer quarters, to recognise in the elegant horsewoman, his own wife, and in the supposed officer, Mark Cheveril. Hot indignation soon mastered his surprise. His first impulse was to alight there and then, and confront the couple. But how could he, with becoming dignity, he reflected bitterly, step out of a shabby country-bandy, travel-stained and haggard after a late night at the Palaveram mess?

The sad offices for poor young Hyde would not have detained Mr. Rayner beyond the afternoon of Christmas Day, but he had been prevailed upon to remain and share the festivities of the mess, after which there had been an adjournment to the card-table. It was in the same dawn on which the riders had started for St. Thomas's Mount that he had risen from his night's play, a considerably poorer man than when he sat down. On the previous day, he had driven out in the carriage of one of the officers who had made an appointment to meet him at the Club, but for his return journey he had arranged nothing, and could only commandeer a country vehicle.

The fact of his humble equipage, and even more the consciousness of his haggard, ill-slept appearance, decided him to abstain from showing himself in the tell-tale morning light. Lying well back in the carriage, he covered his face with his sun-topee. He perceived with chagrin, however, that he might have spared his precautions, so engrossed were the riders in their own talk that they did not even turn their eyes towards the humble bandy.

"So this is the game of my most virtuous wife! Why, she's no better than Leila Baltus would have been under similar circ.u.mstances! No sooner do I leave her to her own devices for a single afternoon than she gallops off with a cavalier! Where do I come in, I wonder," Mr. Rayner muttered with a bitter snarl. "No doubt she'll say he's an old friend and all that, but I'll not listen to any of her excuses--nor yours either, Mister Mark. You can find a lady for yourself. You'll not steal my property! By Jove, it would be a good joke to offer him the dark beauty, Leila Baltus, since they are of the same caste! But one thing I can do--and I'll manage it if they don't quicken their pace. I'll hurry on and give them a nasty surprise at the other end--that's to say if they condescend to return to my house. Good, I know a short cut!"

He was now a little in advance of the riders and considered it safe to shout from the window, directing the driver to the shortest route.

"Look here, bandy-wallah, I'll give you double fare if you race me to Clive's Road in double quick time!"

The horse was a rough powerful animal, and by dint of frequent applications of the whip, "the fare" was landed at his destination some minutes before the arrival of the riders.

"I do believe Alfred's back from Palaveram already!" exclaimed Hester, as they turned into the compound in Clive's Road. "That must be his hired carriage. What a pity he didn't send for his own comfortable office-bandy instead of that wretched thing!" she added, glancing at the humble vehicle which the bandy-wallah was recklessly guiding on to the turf skirting the avenue to avoid coming into contact with the riders, though there was ample room for both.

"He must have come at a great pace," observed Mark, glancing at the foam-flecked horse. "That horse looks thoroughly pumped out!"

"Oh, poor Alfred, he's always in such a hurry to get back to his writing-table! You'll come and have breakfast with us, Mark? Of course, you must! You will help me to recount everything we've seen. You really owe Alfred a visit since you wouldn't come to our party. He'll be delighted," Hester was adding, while Mark helped her to dismount.

"Speak for yourself, madam," said the master of the house, suddenly emerging from behind one of the green blinds of the verandah, with an angry scowl on his face. "I decline to invite your cavalier to my house!"

Hester flushed, while her companion looked pale and startled. Was this to be the sequel to his harmless effort for Hester's enjoyment?

"Alfred, what do you mean," stammered Hester in dismay, gazing at her husband. His angry frown was intensified by his unkempt appearance, for he had not had time to visit his room.

"Mean!" he repeated. "Well, this time I mean exactly what I say! This house happens to be mine, and I shan't invite a man to breakfast who has stolen such a dirty march on me. Be off with you!"

"I fail to understand your words or your att.i.tude, Mr. Rayner," returned Mark, looking sternly at the haggard face.

"You do? Then I'll enlighten you! What right had you in my absence to drag my wife out on horseback, when you and she know well that I entirely disapprove of such an exercise for a lady? You have insulted me! You have tampered with my reputation, I tell you." His voice rose almost to a scream as he continued: "I'll be the laughing stock of Madras--all those Artillery officers at the Mount--I expect it's there you've been! I caught sight of you on the road. Ha, you didn't think the injured husband was d.o.g.g.i.ng your steps, did you? I'm only thankful you didn't come on to Palaveram and disgrace me there, Hester, but it's bad enough as it is."

"Alfred, you are not yourself," said Hester, distressfully, going up to her husband and putting her hands on his shoulders. "You don't look well! I don't think he knows what he's saying, Mark. You must excuse him," she added, turning beseeching eyes on her friend.

"If I'm not well it's you that have bowled me over. Oh, my goodness, what a pa.s.s things have come to," laughed Mr. Rayner hysterically, throwing himself down on a chair, and covering his ghastly face with his hands, he began to whimper.

"I'd better go," whispered Mark, taking Hester's trembling hand in his.

"Forgive me for the trouble I have caused you."

"There's nothing to forgive--all the other way. Alfred will see that when he is well again," said Hester, glancing at her husband's cowering figure.

Mark looked at him and then at his wife with a look of ineffable sorrow and pain, then he strode quickly down the broad flight of the verandah steps, mounted his horse and rode away, the syce leading the beautiful Arab which had carried its rider to such pleasant pastures that morning.

Hardly had the sound of the horse's hoofs died away when Mr. Rayner removed his long thin fingers from his face and stole a timid glance at his wife, who stood motionless, her back turned towards him as she gazed out after the retreating rider.

"Now look here, Hester," he said, clearing his throat. "You've played me a shabby trick and no mistake, but I'm not vindictive. My maxim is, you know, to forgive and forget! I'm not sorry I got my teeth into Cheveril, but I quite see now how the whole thing happened. He asked you to ride with him and you did--that's all! Come, let's kiss and be friends!"

He seized one of Hester's hands as she was moving away and raised it to his lips, but for once his swift repentance was wholly repellent to her.

She quickly perceived that he was anxious to act a part, that his calmness was only feigned, that he still nursed a bitter grudge against Mark. She could see it in his eyes, in the sinister air with which he listened to her brief restrained narration of the simple circ.u.mstances which had led to this morning's expedition.

"All is right between us, Hester! I accept your apologies," he said patronisingly, as he rose briskly from his chair and hurried to his morning bath.

When they met at breakfast it was Hester who was silent, and looked jaded and stricken, while her husband seemed eager in his efforts to be specially polite and agreeable.

CHAPTER XXII.

It was the day of the great ball of the season. Alfred Rayner had often expatiated to Hester on the delights of this festivity at Government House at which he had been present in the previous year. He now looked forward with glee to make his entrance with his beautiful wife on his arm. Judging from his gaiety of spirit, one would have thought that the painful incident on the return of the riders from St. Thomas's Mount was entirely effaced from his mind, though only two short days had actually elapsed since it had occurred. To Hester the days had brought no mitigation of her pain, although her husband seemed to take it for granted that she shared his preoccupation concerning the ball. He could not help perceiving, however, as he looked across the table this morning that she seemed pale and strained, just when he was eager she should be looking her very best.

"I'll tell you what you need, Hester--the best recipe for looking as fresh as my English rose must do to-night. You drive to the beach this afternoon. Don't go gadding with anybody, just sit in your carriage and let the sea breeze fan your cheeks, then there's no doubt who will be the belle of the ball to-night! I wish I could have gone to the beach and kept guard over you, my dear; unfortunately I have an appointment after business hours to-day. But if my wife carries the palm to-night this her 'humble slave' will be in the third heavens!"

Hester was nothing loth to fall in with her husband's suggestion. The prospect of a quiet hour within the sound of the waves was welcome to her. She felt weary and dispirited, and had thought many times of telling her husband she did not feel able to join in the festivity of the evening. The episode, which seemed to have pa.s.sed all too lightly over him, had left a deep mark on her sensitive heart. Not only did she feel wounded and shamed at the exhibition her husband had made of himself, but she mourned the loss of her faithful friend. After being so wantonly insulted, never, probably, would Mark Cheveril and she meet again. Not even his chivalrous kindness could be proof against the unjust taunts levelled against him by the man she now felt ashamed to own as her husband. She suspected indeed that his att.i.tude that morning was a.s.sumed on purpose to put a stop to the friendship, and in losing Mark, she felt sorrowfully, she had lost her only real friend--except indeed, Mrs. Fellowes. But never, even to her, could she unfold the pa.s.s to which her husband's extraordinary behaviour had brought matters. She must go on suffering in absolute silence, she decided, with a more conscious effort at resignation to her lot than she had yet made. Truly the tools were sharp, she thought, with a long-drawn sigh, recalling Mark's parable of the rough block in the making. Much indeed was being chiselled off, but as Mark had said, they must trust to the Master Sculptor.

Only yesterday there had come to Hester what she interpreted as a farewell gift from the friend she might see no more. She knew the token must be from him, though the brown book bore no evidence as to its sender. She felt sure it was none other than Mark when she read the marked poem. That metaphor of the Potter's Wheel had already become like an inspiration to her. The book lay on her knees now as she drove to the beach, and drawing it from beneath the carriage-wrap, she turned to the poem to ponder once more its deep meaning in reference to herself.

All her life she had been brought up in a religious atmosphere, though her att.i.tude towards that side of life had been in part more traditional than personal. It was only lately since the sore need of her heart craved a refuge that she had come to find the "very present help" for herself, and now every hour of every day she was seeking it and finding it. During the last hours she had travelled far on that eventful journey. She felt that till travelling days were done, and perhaps in the "new beginning" of which Mark had spoken, she would always connect the crisis in her life with the n.o.ble words of "Rabbi Ben Ezra."

The carriage had now drawn up on the long terraced promenade which skirts the sea sh.o.r.e--the then favourite meeting place of Madras residents at this evening hour. On this afternoon, however, society was evidently reserving itself for the entertainment at Government House, and was conspicuous by its absence. A regimental band usually played at the Marine Villa, but the stand was unoccupied now, silence and emptiness reigned.

Hester did not regret either the music or the company. She directed her coachman to draw up at a point where she always thought the breeze seemed to blow freshest from the sea, and sat engrossed in her book, though the light was fading. She heard the footsteps of two pedestrians on the asphalt pavement, but did not raise her eyes. Presently the pair returned from their stroll, and this time one of them halted in front of the landau, saying:

"Good evening! Like us, I see you have come for a whiff of the sea breeze!"

Great was Hester's surprise when she heard the familiar voice.

"Mark," she exclaimed, and the face which had worn such a wistful expression lit up with pleasure. Once again, at all events, she was destined to exchange greetings with her friend. But she now perceived that he was not alone. On the pavement stood an elderly man, his dark searching eyes surmounted by a pair of rather fierce eyebrows, a smooth shaven face revealing a sensitive mouth and well-formed chin. The searching eyes were fixed on her with a distinct air of interest.

"My chief wishes to make your acquaintance," pursued Mark. "Mr.

Worsley--Mrs. Rayner."

"We pa.s.sed you when we were proceeding on our prowl, but you were so intent on your book my young friend seemed timid about disturbing you,"

said the Collector, with a smile and an amused glance at Mark. "But I was not to be cheated out of an opportunity of meeting Mr. Cheveril's old friend."

There was a mixture of courtesy and kindliness in his manner which proved a ready pa.s.sport to Hester's heart, and also brought a joyous smile to Mark's face; for this was not, he knew well, the tone of greeting Mr. Worsley was used to give to the ladies of the station.

Underneath his manner to little Mrs. Samptor there was always a veiled though kindly contempt, while Mrs. Goldring's portion was often an unmistakable scowl. But in his manner to Hester there was a winning combination of immediate belief and liking, something fatherly too which Mark had occasionally felt in his att.i.tude to himself. Another carriage now made its appearance and drew up alongside of Hester's landau.

"I felt sure that these were your syces' liveries, my dear," called Mrs.

Fellowes, not at first perceiving that Hester was engaged in conversation. Then she observed the two gentlemen, and Mark quickly went round to shake hands, claiming her as one of his earliest friends in Madras.

Meanwhile the Collector pursued his talk with Hester, saying presently:

"Now, Mrs. Rayner, take the advice of an experienced Madra.s.see, descend from your chariot, and have a walk in this delightful sea-breeze. No doubt you are due to-night at Government House like Cheveril and myself.

We must obey orders, I suppose, and put in an appearance for a little. I hope your friend will enjoy the ball. Puranapore is a dull place for a young man, little company except a sombre old fellow like me."