Part 5 (1/2)
The suns.h.i.+ne outside the church was blinding. It smote through the awning with pitiless intensity. Around the carriage a curious crowd had gathered to see the bridal procession. To Stella's dazzled eyes it seemed a surging sea of unfamiliar faces. But one face stood out from the rest--the calm countenance of Ralph Dacre's magnificent Sikh servant clad in snowy linen, who stood at the carriage door and gravely bowed himself before her, stretching an arm to protect her dress from the wheel.
”This is Peter the Great,” said Dacre's careless voice, ”a highly honourable person, Stella, and a most efficient bodyguard.”
”How do you do?” said Stella, and held out her hand.
She acted with the utmost simplicity. During her four weeks' sojourn in India she had not learned to treat the native servant with contempt, and the majestic presence of this man made her feel almost as if she were dealing with a prince.
He straightened himself swiftly at her action, and she saw a sudden, gleaming smile flash across his grave face. Then he took the proffered hand, bending low over it till his turbaned forehead for a moment touched her fingers.
”May the sun always s.h.i.+ne on you, my _mem-sahib!_” he said.
Stella realized afterwards that in action and in words there lay a tacit acceptance of her as mistress which was to become the allegiance of a lifelong service.
She stepped into the carriage with a feeling of warmth at her heart which was very different from the icy constriction that had bound it when she had arrived at the church a brief half-hour before with Tommy.
Her husband's arm was about her as they drove away. He pressed her to his side. ”Oh, Star of my heart, how superb you are!” he said. ”I feel as if I had married a queen. And you weren't even nervous.”
She bent her head, not looking at him. ”Poor Tommy was,” she said.
He smiled tolerantly. ”Tommy's such a youngster.”
She smiled also. ”Exactly one year younger than I am.”
He drew her nearer, his eyes devouring her. ”You, Stella!” he said. ”You are as ageless as the stars.”
She laughed faintly, not yielding herself to the closer pressure though not actually resisting it. ”That is merely a form of telling me that I am much older than I seem,” she said. ”And you are quite right. I am.”
His arm compelled her. ”You are you,” he said. ”And you are so divinely young and beautiful that there is no measuring you by ordinary standards. They all know it. That is why you weren't received into the community with open arms. You are utterly above and beyond them all.”
She flinched slightly at the allusion. ”I hope I am not so extraordinary as all that,” she said.
His arm became insistent. ”You are unique,” he said. ”You are superb.”
There was pa.s.sion barely suppressed in his hold and a sudden swift s.h.i.+ver went through her. ”Oh, Ralph,” she said, ”don't--- don't wors.h.i.+p me too much!”
Her voice quivered in its appeal, but somehow its pathos pa.s.sed him by.
He saw only her beauty, and it thrilled every pulse in his body.
Fiercely almost, he strained her to him. And he did not so much as notice that her lips trembled too piteously to return his kiss, or that her submission to his embrace was eloquent of mute endurance rather than glad surrender. He stood as a conqueror on the threshold of a newly acquired kingdom and exulted over the splendour of its treasures because it was all his own.
It did not even occur to him to doubt that her happiness fully equalled his. Stella was a woman and reserved; but she was happy enough, oh, she was happy enough. With complacence he reflected that if every man in the mess envied him, probably every woman in the station would have gladly changed places with her. Was he not Fortune's favourite? What happier fate could any woman desire than to be his bride?
CHAPTER V
THE DREAM
It was a fortnight after the wedding, on an evening of intense heat, that Everard Monck, now established with Tommy at The Green Bungalow, came in from polo to find the mail awaiting him. He sauntered in through the verandah in search of a drink which he expected to find in the room which Stella during her brief sojourn had made more dainty and artistic than the rest, albeit it had never been dignified by the name of drawing-room. There was light green matting on the floor and there were also light green cus.h.i.+ons in each of the long wicker chairs. Curtains of green gauze hung before the windows, and the fierce sunlight filtering through gave the room a strangely translucent effect. It was like a chamber under the sea.
It had been Monck's intention to have his drink and pa.s.s straight on to his own quarters for a bath, but the letters on the table caught his eye and he stopped. Standing in the green dimness with a tumbler in one hand, he sorted them out. There were two for himself and two for Tommy, the latter obviously bills, and under these one more, also for Tommy in a woman's clear round writing. It came from Srinagar, and Monck stood for a second or two holding it in his hand and staring straight out before him with eyes that saw not. Just for those seconds a mocking vision danced gnomelike through his brain. Just at this moment probably most of the other men were opening letters from their wives in the Hills. And he saw the chance he had not taken like a flash of far, elusive sunlight on the sky-line of a troubled sea.