Part 25 (1/2)
The thought sent the head into the hands again; for Herbert Erlton was a healthy animal and loved his offspring by instinct. He had, in truth, a queer upside-down notion of his responsibilities toward them.
If the fates had permitted it he would have done his best by Freddy.
Shown him the ropes, given him useful tips, stood by his inexperience, paid his reasonable debts--always supposing he had the wherewithal.
Then how was he to tell Kate all the ugly story. He had left her in his thoughts so completely, she had been so far apart from him for so many years now, that he hesitated over telling her the bare facts, just as--being conventionally a perfectly well-bred man--he would have hesitated how to tell them to any innocent woman of his acquaintance.
Rather more so, for Kate--though she was sentimental enough, he told himself, for two--had never been sensible and looked things in the face. If she had, it might all have been different. Then with a rush came the remembrance that Allie did--that she knew him every inch and was yet willing to come with him. While he? He would stick through thick and thin to little Allie, who never made a man feel a fool or a beast. Something in the last a.s.sertion seemed to harden his heart; he took up his pen and began to write:
”My Dear Kate: I call you that because I can't think of any other beginning that doesn't seem foolish; but it means nothing, and I only want to tell you that circ.u.mstances over which we had no control (he felt rather proud of this circ.u.mlocution for a circ.u.mstance due entirely to his volition) make it necessary for me to leave you. It is the only course open to me as a gentleman. Besides I want to, for I love Alice Gissing dearly. I am going to marry her, D. V., as soon as I can. Mr. Gissing may make a fuss--it is a criminal offense, you see, in India--but we shall tide over that. Of course you could prevent me too, but you are not that sort. So I have sent in my papers. It is a pity, in a way, because I liked this work. But it is only a two-year appointment, and I should hate the regiment after it. For the rest, I am not such a fool as to think you will mind; except for the boy. It is a pity for him too, but it isn't as if he were a girl, and the other may be. It will do no good to say I'm sorry. Besides, I don't think it is all my fault, and I know you will be happier without me.
”Yours sincerely,
”Herbert Erlton.
”P. S.--It's no use crying over spilled milk. I believe you used to think I would get the regiment some day, but they would never have given it to me. I made a bit of a spurt lately, but it couldn't have lasted to the finish, and after all, that is the win or the lose in a race.
”H. E.”
The postscript was added after rereading the rest with an uncomfortable remembrance that it was the last letter he meant to write to her. Then he threw it ready for the post beside the others, and lay down feeling that he had done his duty. And as he dozed off his own simile haunted him. From start to finis.h.!.+ How few men rode straight all the way; and the poor beggars who came to grief over the last fence weren't so far behind those who came in for the clapping.
It was the finish that did it; that was the win or the lose. But he would run straight with little Allie--straight as a die! So he lost consciousness in a glow of virtuous content with the future, and joined the whole of the northern half of Meerut in their noontide slumbers; for the future outlook, if not exactly satisfying, was not sufficiently dubious to keep it awake.
But in the southern half, humanity was still swarming in and out, waiting, listening. In one of the mud-huts, however, a company of men gathered within closed doors had been listening to some purpose.
Listening to an eloquent speaker, the accredited agent of a down-country organization. He had arrived in Meerut a day or two before, and had held one meeting after another in the lines, doing his utmost to prevent any premature action; for the fiat of the leaders was that there should be patience till the 31st of May. Then, not until then, a combined blow for India, for G.o.d, for themselves, might be struck with chance of success.
”Ameen!” a.s.sented one old man who had come with him. An old man in a huge faded green turban with dyed red hair and beard, and with a huge green waistband holding a curved scimitar. Briefly, a Ghazee or Mohammedan fanatic. ”Patience, all ye faithful, till Sunday, the 31st of May. Then, while the h.e.l.l-doomed infidels are at their evening prayer, defenseless, fall on them and slay. G.o.d will show the right!
This is the Moulvie's word, sent by me his servant. Give the Great Cry, brothers, in the House of the Thief! Smite ye of Meerut, and we of Lucknow will smite also.” His wild uncontrolled voice rolled on in broad Arabic vowels from one text to another.
”And we of Delhi will smite also,” interrupted the wearer of a rakish Moghul cap impatiently. ”We will smite for the Queen.”
”The Queen?” echoed an older man in the same dress. ”What hath the Sheeah woman to do with the race of Timoor?”
”Peace! peace! brothers,” put in the agent with authority. ”These times are not for petty squabbles. Let who be the heir, the King must reign.”
A murmur of a.s.sent rose; but it was broken in upon by a dissentient voice from a group of troopers at the door.
”Then our comrades are to rot in jail till the 31st? That suits not the men of the 3d Cavalry.”
”Then let the 3d Cavalry suit itself,” retorted the agent fearlessly.
”We can stand without them. Can they stand without us? Answer me, men of the 20th; men of the 11th.”
”There be not many of us here,” muttered a voice from a dark corner; ”and maybe we could hold our own against the lot of you.” It was Soma's, and the man beside him frowned. But the agent who knew every petty jealousy, every private quarrel of regiment with regiment, went on remorselessly. ”Let the 3d swagger if it choose. The Rajpoots and Brahmins know how to obey the stars. The 31st is the auspicious day.
That is the word. The word of the King, of the Brahmins, of India, of G.o.d!”
”The 31st! Then slay and spare not! It is _jehad! Deen! Deen! Futteh Mohammed!_” said the Ghazee.
The cry, though a mere whisper, electrified the Mohammedans, and an older man in the group of dissentients at the door muttered that he could hold his troop--if others who had risen to favor quicker than he--could hold theirs.
”I'll hold mine, Khan sahib, without thine aid,” retorted a very young smart-looking native officer angrily. ”That is if the women will hold their tongues. But, look you, my troop held the hardest hitters in the 3d. And Nargeeza's fancy is of those in jail. Now Nargeeza leads all the other town-women by the nose; and that means much to men who be not all saints like Ghazee-_jee_ yonder, who ties the two ends of life with a ragged green turban and a b.l.o.o.d.y banner!”
”And I see not why our comrades should stay yonder for three weeks, when there is but a native guard to hold them, and I and mine have made the _Sirkar_ what it is,” put in a man with arrogance and insolence written on him from top to toe; a true type of the pampered Brahmin sepoy.