Nurse in India (11 page)

He gave a little laugh. “In the first place I
’
d undertake a much worse drive than that if I knew I was going to meet you at the end of it; and in the second, Roger only invited me, I
’
m certain, because that very attractive Miss Allegra badgered him into it. Someone was kind enough to sing my praises as a dancer—and to decry the talents of
most of the other men in that direction—and as she
’
s a keen dancer herself, and needs a foil, she made up her mind to get me here.”

“I see.” Stella was ironically amused, but she felt less inclined to smile when Armand went on vivaciously. “She
’
s the type, you know, that we call in French
câline
!
The sort
that tries to twist every man she meets around her little finger—and usually succeeds.”

“She
’
s certainly very attractive,” Stella agreed with forced enthusiasm, and was glad when, after claiming three or four dances, he moved on to talk to someone else.

The minute he left her Roger came up. He looked very distinguished, she thought, in full evening dress; and though no one could have called him handsome in the orthodox sense of the word, his great height and breadth of shoulder gave him a certain superiority over all the other men in the room.

“I hope our friend Verle hasn
’
t grabbed all your dances,” he said dryly.

She smiled, her heart beginning to beat uncomfortably fast.

“I would hardly be so discourteous as to have no dances left for my host.”

“Not a very encouraging reply. Still, I suppose I ought to be thankful for small mercies.” He glanced around. “I see old Jim is putting on a record now. Shall we dance?”

She nodded and standing up let him take her in his arms. Held thus she was swept by an ecstasy such as she had never known in all her life before. If only this moment could last forever! Did he feel the same, she wondered! And dared not look up into his eyes for fear of what she might see written there.

Even if she had not loved him, there would have been a thrill in dancing with him, for though his steps were conventional, he was as light on his feet as a panther and had a perfect sense of rhythm. His movements, too, were so decided, it was child
’
s play to follow him.

If she were pleased with him as a partner, he, for his part, was utterly delighted.

“I guessed you
’
d be a good dancer by the way you moved,” he told her eagerly, “but I never dreamed you
’
d be as perfect as this. But then you
’
re perfect in every way, Stella—except—” and his voice dropped “—in your treatment of me.”

“I think the boot is on the other foot.” She tried to speak lightly. “I haven
’
t known you very long, but you must have given me at least half a dozen good scoldings in that time.”

“I know. I
’
m a wretch.” His voice was contrite. “But you
’
re such a reckless little devil, Stella, and I
’
m scared
st
iff of any harm coming to you. It
’
s because I—I think so much of you that I get so crotchety.”

“You certainly fuss too much,” she told him coolly. "You forget that I
’
m that tough creature—a trained hospital nurse.”

“Tough
!”
He gave an odd little laugh and for a moment held her even closer to him. “To me you
’
re the most precious, fragile thing in the world—Dresden china, or maybe a first pale primrose.
”

“I didn
’
t know you were a poet,” she countered, trying hard to speak calmly.

“Most men are romantics at heart, my dear.” Then glancing across the room he added, “Look at Jim; he
’
s positively radiant. He
’
s in love with a vengeance.”

“And you
’
re pleased with his choice?” For the life of her she could not keep back the question.

“Very.” He spoke without the slightest hesitation. “Allegra seems just the one for him. He
’
s come out like anything since he got engaged to her.”

The record came to an end and they moved apart, and to Stella it was like stepping from a rosy dream into gray reality. She longed for the moment when they should be dancing together again—although she told herself bitterly that these brief snatches of bliss would only make the forthcoming parting more agonizingly hard to bear. She might be storing up a few golden memories for herself
—
but what could they hold for her but tears?

Her next partner was Jim, and from him, too, she had to listen to praises of Allegra; indeed, he seemed, as before, to wish for no other subject of conversation.

Allegra was dancing with Armand now and looking, Stella thought, a good deal more animated than when she had had Jim as her partner. The young
Frenchman
’
s sallies of wit evidently amused her greatly, for every now and then that characteristic laugh of hers rippled out.

But Jim, for one, had no fault to find with her high spirits.

“Isn
’
t she a darling!” he exclaimed, gazing raptly across at her. “Miss Hantley, I do hope you and she are going to be
friends.”

“There won
’
t be much time for forming a friendship,
I
am afraid,” Stella answered quietly. “Miss Jellings and
I
will be moving on very soon now—at least, I hope so.”

He seemed rather taken aback by this reply. “Do yo
u
really mean that—and
that you
’
ll be glad to go? I somehow thought
—”
And he broke off lamely, reddening a
little.

“Oh, one usually has mixed feelings over leaving a place where one has had a good time,” she observed coolly. “But we have a lot of interesting ground to cover in the rest of our tour, and I
’
m looking forward to
seeing Rajdor.”

“I see!” Jim sounded vaguely disappointed. But the next moment he went on more cheerfully. “Still, you
’
ll doubtless be coming back to Ghasirabad?”

“Most unlikely. We
’
re really working our way by slow degrees to Calcutta—and from there we shall sail straight for home.”

“
And will you take up your nursing career again?
”

“I expect so.”

He hesitated, then said awkwardly, “If you
’
ll forgive my saying so, I think it
’
s a pity. I
’
d like to see you happily married.”

She achieved a fairly convincing laugh. “You
’
re so much in love yourself, and so enamored of matrimony, you want all your friends to follow example and hurry to the altar.”

He echoed her laugh. “Maybe you
’
re right.” Then he went on, with an intensity that almost startled Stella, “I only know this: I didn
’
t begin to live until the day when
Allegra promised to be my wife.”

That remark of his, made with such depths of feeling, haunted Stella for the rest of the evening. Till then there had lurked in the dim recesses of her brain the half-formed thought that if Allegra goaded her too far she would retaliate and insist on giving Roger and Jim her version of that miserable affair of five years ago. Now she told herself more firmly than ever before that such a course was out of the question. Even if Roger were to believe her, which was doubtful, what happiness would there be for herself and him if it were gained at the cost of Jim
’
s heartbreak? Their marriage, if it ever took place, would be
doomed
from the start. No, Jim and Allegra were actually
engaged
whereas she and Roger had not even spoken of
love
. It was clearly she who must withdraw before further
da
mage was done.

Roger
’
s mood, when he came to claim her for another dunce, was so different from his former one that she had less difficulty than she had anticipated in behaving more
c
oolly to him. He had been talking to Miss Jellings in an
int
erval between two rubbers of bridge, had heard about
Ch
awand Rao
’
s loan to them of two of his horses and was distinctly perturbed at their ready acceptance.

“Miss Jellings probably thinks I
’
m a fussy old woman,”
he
observed as he steered her into a slow fox-trot, “but of course she has no idea of the rumors that have been floating around about Chawand Rao
’
s—well, designs on you.”

“She
’
d be too sensible, anyway, to listen to a lot of rubbishy gossip,” Stella retorted hotly. “I may be an ignoramus so far as India is concerned, but I should have thought that servants
’
chatter in a Hindu palace would be discredited from the start. Hussein probably got His Highness
’
s remark about me all wrong. I
’
ve too high an opinion of Chawand Rao to suppose—”

“It
’
s no reflection on His Highness that he should wish to marry a white woman,” Roger interrupted quickly. “The point I want to make is that if you wish to scotch such notions you ought to behave with very great discretion. You
’
re playing with fire now. ”

Stella
’
s cheeks flamed. It was queer, she reflected, how she could feel so angry with Roger—and yet go on loving him all the time. “Another lecture?” she exclaimed. “Really, Roger, you seem bent on quarreling with me.”

“Well, you
’
re just a bit of a spitfire yourself, Stella.” He was smiling down at her now with a half-troubled, half
-
amused expression. “What we ought to do is to clear the air and have a real heart-to-heart talk; then there
’
d be an end to all these misunderstandings and bickering
.
” His arm tightened around her. “Don
’
t you think so, sweet?”

She stiffened, panic rising in her heart. “No, Roger, it
’
s no use,” she murmured incoherently. And when he pressed her for an explanation she could do nothing but beg him miserably to leave her alone.

“Heaven knows what the trouble is, but I won
’
t worry you any m
ore
this evening,” he promised at last. “But, Stella, I
sha
ll
be around to the rest house at three o
’
clock tomorrow afternoon, bringing the mare with me, in the hope that you
’
ll come for a ride. I must and will have a talk with you alone.”

CHAPTER TEN

Stella
’
s evening
had been a compound of bliss and misery, but Miss Jellings had thoroughly enjoyed herself. She had bid and won a grand slam, and when her opponents had endeavored to do likewise had brought them
t
umbling down to the tune of fourteen hundred points! What more could a bridge player want?

Her pleasure, however, did not prevent her feeling extremely tired the next day; indeed, she was so utterly exhausted that Stella was too concerned on her account to have much time for brooding on her own problems.

I suppose by the time I
’
m Jelly
’
s age I shall have grown philosophical
,
she thought bitterly as she poured out a few drops of the old lady
’
s special restorative.
Love—and all the joys and torments that go with it—will be forgotten. A good bridge four will be preferable to any
téte
-a-
téte
!

But if Miss Jellings
’
s dreams of romance were long since over, she could still interest herself, in the love affairs of other people. And when, the stimulant having done its work, she was propped up against the pillows, with a piece of crochet to amuse her, she made Stella pull up a chair to the bedside and tell her all that had happened the previous evening.

For a while Stella fobbed her off with gay, evasive answers, but before long the old lady gave up the pretense of using her crochet hook. Thrusting the work aside she asked, with all the frankness of an Edwardian mother, “Well, my dear—and have you and Roger fixed things up yet?”

Stella
’
s color rose. “There
’
s nothing to fix up,” she said abruptly.

“My dear child, must we fence all the time?” Jelly gave an irritable tweak to the coquettish boudoir cap of lace and rose buds that she invariably wore when spending a day in bed. “I
’
m quite aware that I
’
ve no right to ask you questions, but considering that you
’
ve no people of your own,
I
should have thought that you would have appreciated a li
ttle
kindly interest.” And then her plain old face softened
.
“You know how fond I am of you, dear.”

“Oh, Jelly, I know!” The tears sprang to Stella
’
s eyes
and
hung on the dark, curling lashes. “And I
’
m just the same about you. But I can
’
t worry you with my troubles.”

“Why not?” Miss Jellings was eyeing her keenly.

“It wouldn
’
t be right. I
’
m supposed to be looking after you, not tiring you out with a recital of my problems.”

“That
’
s not your only reason, Stella.” She stretched across and took Stella
’
s hand in hers. “Something has gone wrong with your friendship with Roger Fendish; that
’
s as plain as a pikestaff. Wouldn
’
t it be a relief to talk« about it a little? I promise you that I
’
ll be as
m
um as an oyster.”

Stella hesitated then she said, her lips trembling as she spoke, “I feel pretty certain Roger wants to ask me to marry him, and there
’
s a reason why I
’
m bound to say no. That
’
s why I
’
m so worried.”

“And so miserable!” Miss Jellings finished the sentence her own way. “Tell me this, Stella—are you in love with the man or not?”

For a moment Stella was tempted to hedge, but she knew very well that Jelly, on the alert now, was listening for every inflection of her voice, watching her face for every smallest change of expression. And turning her tear-filled eyes to meet Jelly
’
s
look she said brokenly, “Fearfully in love—unfortunately!”

Jelly frowned. “And are you going to tell me seriously that there
’
s an insurmountable barrier between you?
”

“I
’
m afraid so.” Stella
’
s voice was steadier now.

“What! You
’
re not going to spring it on me that you
’
ve been keeping a husband in the background all this time?
”

Stella, smiling wryly, shook her curly head.

“Well, I
’
m dead certain Roger
’
s never had a wife! He
’
s much too unknowledgeable about women.” Jelly sounded
grimly amused. “Personally I can
’
t imagine what other obstacle can exist—unless there
’
s some hereditary malady in one or other of your families.”

Again Stella managed to smile. “No, it
’
s nothing like that.” Then, sober again, she added, “It
’
s just that I can
’
t
marry
Roger without bringing a fearful lot of misery to
other
people.”

For a minute or two Jelly was silent. Then she said
t
houghtfully, “Something went wrong that night you went
to
dinner at Roger
’
s bungalow—the time Mr. Verle and Mr. Blonson were there. You were perfectly happy about
R
oger up to that evening—although you tried to make me believe you weren
’
t falling in love with him!”

Stella made no answer, but her silence told Miss Jellings
she
had hit the mark. “And you
’
d rather not tell me about
it,
child?” she continued.

“It means raking up a miserable old story, and I
’
m so
a
fraid that when you
’
ve heard it, you
’
ll try to convince me l hat I ought to marry Roger and take a chance on things working out all right.”

There was a longer silence between them now, which Jelly finally broke. “If you
’
ve any—well, indiscretions—in your past, my dear,” she said very gently, “you
’
ve a right to forget them. I
’
ve no patience with women who upset the applecart by making unnecessary revelations to the men they
’
re going to marry. They don
’
t expect similar candor from their husbands. Of course, if it
’
s something that
’
s bound to come out, the only thing is to take your courage in both hands and make a clean breast of the matter.”

“I suppose you mean something—something immoral!” Stella
’
s cheeks were burning now. “I can assure you, Jelly, I
’
ve nothing like that on my conscience. I
’
ve always been
—
well, quite unfashionably prudish.”

“That
’
s good to hear!” Miss Jelly declared, a look of relief spreading over her broad, homely features. “A pretty girl like you doesn
’
t always find it easy to—
”

But before she could go on, Stella, deep in her own thoughts, added steadily, “As a matter of fact, I
’
ve nothing in my past that I need feel ashamed of at all. But there
’
s definitely an obstacle, and I
’
m horribly afraid that if I try to ignore it I shall not only make other people unhappy—but that everything will be spoiled for Roger and me, as well.” She paused. “Someday I
’
ll tell you all about it, Jelly, but I feel so sore and raw now—and so scared of your trying to persuade me to act against my better judgment—”

Jelly patted her hand. “You
’
re an obstinate little fool,” she said, “but I never could stand interference myself, an
d
I certainly shan
’
t start butting in on your affairs. You ca
n
tell me the rest of the story as and when you please!
”

“You
’
re a darling, Jelly.” Stella got up and, putting her: arms around the older woman, gave her an affectionate hug.

“Nonsense, child! If there
’
s anything
I
can do for you—”

“Just one thing,” Stella exclaimed, and there was an imploring note in her voice. “You can arrange for us to move on to Rajdor at the earliest possible moment.”

She realized afterward
that she had said nothing to Jelly about Roger
’
s intention to call for her during the afternoon, but decided that there was no particular reason why the old lady should be troubled with this piece of information; it might indeed spoil her afternoon
’
s rest. Intent herself on avoiding Roger, she ordered one of Chawand Rao
’
s horses to be brought around for her at two o
’
clock, and set off on a solitary ride, leaving a brief note with Muhammad Ali to be handed to Roger when he made his appearance.

Dear Roger, please forgive me if I seem rude and ungracious, but truly, there is no use in our meeting and having a talk. It can only mean unhappiness for both of us.

Stella

She felt as she took the southern road out of Ghasirabad that the note was badly phrased. Still,
it’s
very curtness would probably ensure its fulfilling its purpose. There was little likelihood that Roger, reading it, would make any further move in her direction. Annoyed already at finding that she had left the rest house an hour before, the brief, unfriendly note would prove the last straw. He would tell himself that a girl who persisted in snubbing him could look elsewhere for a lover.

I ought to be pleased,
she said to herself. But the prospect of the empty years ahead seemed dreary in the extreme. She could fill them, of course, with useful work, and maybe, after a time, she would become one of those
prai
seworthy women who looked upon nursing as a voca
t
ion and wished for no happiness outside their chosen call
in
g. But the time when she could feel so wholehearted was,
she
knew, far distant; it would be many a long day before sorrow was stilled, and she would cease from grieving.

It
’
s all so ironical, so meaningless,
was the burden of her
th
ought.
Why must Roger and I meet and fall in love, if nothing was to come of it?
And as her horse
’
s hooves beat up a sharp tattoo on the hard surface of the road, it seemed lo her that nature was in tune with her own mood of blank depression. Although the sun was blazing down from a sky of brilliant cobalt, there was a curious, almost sinister, stillness in the air that the ring of the iron horseshoes served only to accentuate.

There
’
s a sort of brooding expectancy about, as though something dreadful was going to happen
, she thought, and then was annoyed with herself for being morbid and over
-
imaginative. But all the same, she could not shake off that oddly nervous feeling, and but for her anxiety to avoid Roger she would certainly have yielded to the temptation to cut short her ride, and set her horse
’
s head for home.

She compromised by keeping to a steady jogging trot—a pace the fiery little Arab by no means appreciated—and by the end of an hour was still not many miles from Ghasirabad.

Three o
’
clock,
she reflected wretchedly.
I suppose Roger
’
s just arriving at the rest house and reading my note.
But before her mind could travel further, something happened that for the time being completely diverted the current of her thoughts. She had noticed vaguely that in the cultivated fields that alternated with the vast patches of scrub, very few peasants were at work on this particular afternoon. And now she suddenly observed the one or two laborers within sight glance up to the sky, and then throw down their hoes and run off in opposite directions
a
s though the devil himself was after them.

Startled, she, too;
’
looked up, half expecting to see an unusual type of airplane overhead. But nothing was to be observed but a small dark cloud; and at the same moment she became conscious that a wind was getting up.

Although she could not imagine what these things portended, the sight of those flying figures, almost invisible
now, decided her to do as her instinct had been prompting her for sometime and start back immediately for Ghasirabad. The horse, too, was nervous now and could onl
y
with difficulty be restrained from breaking into a gallop, as she turned his head for home. Within a few seconds she was letting him have his way, for the cloud seemed to be expanding in the most curious manner, and every moment
the speed of the wind seemed to be increasing.

He
’
s a sensible beast to want to hurry, she thought, and at this rate we shall soon be back in Ghasirabad. And then she paled as she saw, coming toward her at a furious
gallop, a horseman whom she recognized instantly as
Roger.

It
’
s only just after three, she thought stupidly. What on earth is he doing all this way out of town? And what am I going to say to him?

She was very soon made to realize, however, that there was no occasion for speech on her part. For coming up to her, Roger seized the bridle of her horse and shouted hoarsely, “We must make for that ruined shrine over there. It
’
s the only shelter within miles.”

And the next instant the horses were careering, hell-bent for leather toward a small domed building a little farther down the road toward Ghasirabad.

Every moment now the sky was growing darker—taking on a queer yellowish hue—and every moment the wind was whipping itself up to a fiercer frenzy. And they had barely reached the shelter they sought when they were caught in a veritable whirlpool of swirling dust. Choking and almost blinded, they threw themselves off their horses.

“Get inside, quick! I
’
ll bring the horses.” She could barely hear Roger
’
s shout above the wind, but without hesitation she did as he ordered and struggled through the doorway, buffeted unmercifully at every step. It was pitch-dark inside, and as she went stumbling forward on the uneven floor, she heard a sound that almost made her heart stop beating—a slither and a hiss. Snakes! For all she knew there might be a cobra coiled up within a few inches of her, rearing its loathsome flat head to strike at her.

“Roger,” she shrieked, “where are you? There are snakes here. I can
’
t stay here—I can
’
t.”

“Coming, darling. Stand perfectly still and you
’
ll be all
r
ight.” His voice was comfortingly near. “I
’
m tying up the horses in the porch here; I won
’
t be a second.”

An instant later she saw the gleam of his flashlight through the darkness and ran toward him, forgetful of everything but her terror and her overmastering need of him.

“Oh, Roger, it
’
s horrible. I
’
d almost rather be out in the storm.”

“It
’
s all right, sweet.” His arm was about her shaking shoulders. “I daresay there
’
s a snake or two in here, but they
’
ll be just as scared of you as you are of them. You can bet they
’
ve slipped back into their holes by now.” He sent the ray of his flashlight traveling around the murky cell. “See! There
’
s not a sign of the blighters!”

She let out a little sob. “I
’
m a fool to be so scared, but—”

“Most of us have a wholesome respect for cobras, my dear, and for dust storms, too.” And then his arm tightened around her. “What would have happened to you if I hadn
’
t turned up at the rest house half an hour early and come chasing after you, I can
’
t imagine!”

“Did you—did you have a hunch that there was going to be one of these awful dust storms?”

“
Not when I first started out after you.
”

“How did you know which way I
’
d come?” But for the darkness she would not have had the courage to put that question.

“I asked your servant, and he was only too pleased to tell me. Apparently he shares my conviction that young
memsahib
s ought not to go for long rides unaccompanied.” And then he added with an odd little laugh, “But I
’
m breaking my resolution not to find fault with you.”

She made no answer to this, and he went on softly, “Isn
’
t it queer, Stella, to be alone together like this in the darkness? My heart
’
s performing all sorts of antics, but, do you know, I can feel yours thumping like ma
d
, too.”

Feverishly she sought for a flippant answer. “Anyone
’
s heart would play tricks under these conditions. It isn
’
t an everyday experience—standing in a dark tomb, surrounded by snakes and with a dust storm raging outside.
”

“And with the person one loves held close to one!” His voice sank lower still. “Stella, you know that I absolutely worship you. Why do you always put me off? Isn
’
t there the slightest hope that you may grow to love me just a little in return?”

Instinctively she tried to move away from him, and he went on quickly, “Oh, I know you don
’
t care two straws for me now. Yet, Stella, I could have sworn there was a time, right at the very beginning of our acquaintanceship, when you wouldn
’
t have repulsed me. I suppose it
’
s my bad temper and rudeness that have choked you off, but don
’
t you see, darling, how adoring you as I do, I
’
ve felt so desperately anxious about you sometimes? I
’
m not really a bully by nature, sweet, and if we were married—”

“Roger, I can never marry you!” At last she found her tongue. “But please don
’
t think it
’
s because of any faults you may imagine you possess.”

“You mean that you feel certain you can never learn to love me? That when I thought, at the beginning, that you were just a little attracted to me, I was just a fatuous fool?”

Again she was silent, trying vainly to find an answer that would put an end to these questions of his—an answer that would stop short of being a direct lie.

“I know that if I were to behave with proper pride, I
’
d take my dismissal without a word of protest,” he continued impetuously, “but I
’
m so sure, that you and I are meant for each other, I just can
’
t let you go without making an effort to keep you.
”

“It
’
s no good, Roger.” She spoke with desperate earnestness. “I can
’
t argue about it; all I can say is that I can
’
t marry you.”

“In other words, that you definitely don
’
t want me as a husband?” he persisted.

She hesitated for the fraction of a second, then forced herself to say quietly, “If you prefer to put it that way.”

He took his arm away from her then. “Stay where you are a minute,” he said abruptly. “I
’
m just going to the doorway to see what
’
s happening. Here
’
s the flashlight in case you feel scared.”

She trembled as he left her and groped his way toward the entrance. It was horrible being left in the darkness, even for a few seconds, without the comfort of his arm around her; but what was that to the agony of being left forever in loneliness?

A few moments later he came stumbling back to her.

“It
’
s clearing up,” he said brusquely. “In a few minutes w
e
shall be able to go.
”

“Thank you,” she murmured—hardly knowing, in the
t
urmoil of her heart, what she was saying.

And then once again his arm was around her. “I
’
m accepting your refusal, Stella,” he said roughly. “I
’
m not the sort to force myself on a woman who has no use for me. But if you really think you owe me any gratitude, you
’
ll let me kiss you once.” He gave a hard little laugh. “I expect you think I
’
m a fool not to kiss first and ask permission afterward. That
’
s the kind of man a woman finds attractive, I
’
m told.”

“Roger, I don
’
t think—”

“I don
’
t want you to think. I want you to feel!” And sweeping her close to him, he pressed his mouth to hers in a long, passionate kiss.

At first she struggled to break away; then conquered more by her own weakness than by his strength, she ceased to resist and gave herself up to ecstasy. Just for this one little moment nothing mattered but that she was in his arms, feeling his lips close to hers.

And then as abruptly as he had taken her into his embrace he released her.

“No one can rob me of that one moment,” he said tensely. “I shall remember it as long as I live. And now
—
let
’
s go.
”

He took her hand and led her out of the darkness into a light but sand-swept world, and a few minutes later they were riding in silence back to Ghasirabad.