Part 35 (1/2)
”Yes, worse luck. But I fancy I shall square him. At the same time--it's hard lines----”
He broke off short. The thing did not bear speaking of.
”It _is_ bitterly hard lines, for you both,” Honor answered, looking away from him. But she knew the best men of her service too well to suggest that, without straining a point, he might honestly be declared unfit for duty.
”At least it will be a comfort to her having _you_ here,” he went on mechanically, because the thing had to be said somehow. ”I'll leave a note, of course, but I'd be grateful if you'd take it for me some time in the morning. She may not understand how impossible it is for a man to hold back--on any pretext, at a time like this, and I know I can trust _you_ to make things clear to her. You're more than half a soldier yourself.”
”So I ought to be!” Honor answered, inexpressibly touched by his confidence in her. ”And of course I would go to her if I were here.
But to-morrow I shall be on my way back to Dera with you both.”
”Dera!--But that would be madness. Do you suppose Desmond would ever hear of such a thing?”
”I haven't supposed anything about it yet,” she answered, smiling. ”I only know that I can't let him go down into--all that, alone. Now I must say good-night, and go to him. We'll make all arrangements for the journey,” she added, as they shook hands, ”and Zyarulla will do the packing for you. So be sure and get some sleep when you have seen Dr O'Malley.”
His face hardened.
”I only know one way to make sure of that,” he said, avoiding her eyes.
”Oh, no, no; not that way, please.”
”I imagine it'll be that or none,” he answered almost roughly, as he turned away, and with a sigh Honor followed her husband into the dining-room.
He sat with his back to her, elbows planted on the writing-table, his head between his hands. But at her approach he looked up, and with a sharp contraction of heart she saw that tears stood in his eyes. A woman takes small account of her own wet lashes, but a man's tears are like drops of blood wrung from the heart.
Honor took his head between her hands, and kissed him, long and tremulously. After that there seemed no need for words on the subject nearest their hearts.
”You knew why I didn't come sooner?” was all she said, and Desmond pressed the hand resting on his shoulder. Then, seating herself opposite him on the edge of the table, she glanced at the telegraph form lying before him.
”Are you wiring for more news?”
”Yes. I want an 'urgent,' care of the Station-master, to catch me at Lah.o.r.e to-morrow night, and another at Thung dak bungalow next day; unless . . . of course . . .”
”Hush, hush. You _must_ not think of that.”
He frowned, and was silent. The two men loved one another as men linked by half a lifetime of toil and ambition learn to love,--or hate; and in the face of a calamity so unthinkable, even Desmond's incurable hopefulness was shaken.
”Captain Lenox believes he will be allowed to go,” Honor went on after a pause. ”But he's hardly fit for it, is he?”
”Not quite, perhaps, though he's made of iron under it all, and if he's set on going, I don't fancy O'Malley will stand in his way.”
”I told him we would make all travelling arrangements, and you'll be sending Dunni out with this, I suppose?”
”Yes. At once. Why?”
”Because I want him to take a note to Mrs Rivers at the same time.”
”Mrs Rivers? Would you sooner go to her than stay on here?”
Honor smiled.
”Do you really imagine I shall stay on here?”