The Dilemma/Chapter XXXIX
CHAPTER XXXIX.
Next day Yorke received a letter from Kirke himself. It was chiefly on regimental business, but contained at the end the following paragraph: —
"You will, of course, have heard of my approaching marriage. My wife — for so I may call her, since the marriage is to take place this afternoon — will write to you herself in a few days, to explain why the matter has been kept so quiet, even from our mutual friends; but I must take this opportunity to thank you on her behalf for your many kindnesses. She will always retain a grateful recollection of them, and continue to regard you as a warm friend. I don't believe she will write the promised letter notwithstanding," said Yorke to himself (and, indeed, the letter never came); and he sat wondering idly how far the message was really sent by Olivia herself, and whether Kirke guessed his feelings, and wished to express pity for his disappointment.
A day or two afterwards the newspapers contained the announcement of the marriage of Colonel Rupert Kirke, C. B., Commandant Kirke's Horse, to Olivia, daughter of the late Archibald Cunningham, Esquire, Bengal Civil Service.
No allusion to her being Falkland's widow, thought the young man bitterly, as he read the notice; it is as well, forsooth, that noble fellow should be forgotten. And yet, he added, apostrophizing himself, why be a hypocrite? You would have been pleased enough, you know in your heart, that she should forget Falkland for your benefit. Besides, it is not she, but the bridegroom, who has sent the notice to the papers.
Yorke's first impulse was to take leave and go away to avoid being present when Kirke should return with his wife; but he was restrained by a fear lest the cause of his absence should be suspected, and like the man who lingers in a company because he feels that his character will be discussed as soon as his back is turned, so Yorke held on at his post, determined to face the return of Kirke and his bride, at whatever cost to himself.
This took place about a month after the wedding, just as the rainy season was coming to an end, and when a fresh coolness in the early mornings betokened the approach of the charms of an Indian winter.
Kirke's delay in taking a house had of course been explained by his intended marriage. He wanted to select a house himself instead of choosing one beforehand. And there not being one sufficiently good in the cavalry lines, he had now written to engage a large house in another part of the station. Thither the newly-married pair came, a day sooner than was expected, arriving at daybreak; and Yorke, returning that morning from a visit to the general, was riding at foot-pace down the road bordered by the garden of Kirke's house, when he came upon Kirke and Olivia, standing in the garden-drive a few steps within the entrance. Kirke called out to him as he passed by, and advanced towards him, and he had no resource but to turn into the drive to meet him, and dismounting to shake hands and to move on where Olivia stood a few paces behind.
Kirke was neatly dressed as usual, in a light morning suit, with a wideawake hat covered with a drab silk turban, his face clean shaven save for the heavy black moustache. Olivia was dressed in a black-and-white muslin robe, with a large straw hat trimmed with black ribbon, her face shaded from the sun by a parasol, and Yorke could not help admitting to himself what a handsome couple they looked, and how well suited to each other; while Olivia's appearance and figure as she stood before him brought back forcibly the recollection of the day when he paid his first visit to the residency, and she walked across the park with her father to greet him. How like, and yet how changed! the first freshness of youth had passed away, although in his eyes she appeared as beautiful as ever, and he thought she looked nervous and distraught as he advanced towards her. She held out her hand, which he took gravely. "Does she confess that she has jilted me?" thought he; "and does that anxious look mean an appeal for mercy and forgiveness? But who am I that I should interpret looks — a blockhead that is always fancying a light-hearted woman to be in love with him, when really she is handing her heart about all round the country? Probably she is wondering whether I am going to stay for breakfast, and whether there is enough to eat in the house." And yet, as he thought over it afterwards, surely, if she was not conscious of wrong-doing, this was a strange meeting for two old friends and constant correspondents.
The conversation began with commonplace. What sort of a journey had they had down? and was not this first feeling of cold delightful? "Cold!" said Olivia, "it seems so dreadfully hot after the hills." Then noticing his horse, she said: "Ah! there is Selim; how well he looks," going up to it and patting its neck, "after all he has gone through, dear thing! What good care you have taken of him!"
Yorke remained silent, for he could not trust himself to speak, being tempted to bid her take back her gift, and an awkward pause ensued, ended by Kirke's plunging into business, and beginning to ask various questions about the regiment, while Olivia stood by listening. Presently several of the native officers of the regiment came up in a body to pay their respects, the news of the commandant's arrival having now reached the lines, and Yorke took his departure, Kirke asking him as he mounted to ride off to come and dine that evening. They would be quite alone, he said, for they had not settled down, but were still all at sixes and sevens in the house. And Yorke accepted the invitation. The sooner I get accustomed to the thing the better, he said to himself, as he rode off, not knowing rightly whether he had gotten himself free from his chains, or was in closer bondage than ever.
Fortunately for him, he was not as it turned out the Kirkes' only guest at dinner that evening, Maxwell the regimental surgeon being also of the party. Olivia was dressed in black, being still in mourning for her father; but except that she seemed a little paler than before, Yorke did not now perceive any change in her; already he was forgetting the old face and remembering only the new.
The house, notwithstanding Kirke's apologies, seemed already to be in good order; it was indeed unusually well furnished for one in an up-country station: the servants were in livery with handsome waist-belts and turbans ornamented with silver crests, and all the table appointments were new and costly. The arrangements all showed careful pre-arrangement, for a large establishment is not to be set up without notice a thousand miles from Calcutta. How far had Olivia been cognizant of all this, and the engagement one of long standing? or had Kirke done it all in anticipation of her accepting him?
The conversation — interrupted at times by Kirke scolding the servants loudly because something or other had been forgotten — turned principally on the campaign, and the later parts of it, for Olivia had not met Maxwell since the residency siege, and there was an awkwardness in going back to those times. Kirke, however, showed no delicacy on that score: for on Maxwell observing that the garden outside looked very neat and well kept, considering that the place had been so long unoccupied. Kirke said that the whole station seemed in capital order: "and I am told," he added, "that the residency is looking quite spick and span again. We must drive over there to-morrow, Olivia, if we have time, and have a look round the old place."
Olivia looked distressed, but her husband did not notice it, and went on: "I hear that they have moved Peart's body out of the garden, and the other fellows who were buried there. So they have got decent interment at last, which is more than can be said for a good many of our old friends."
Then Olivia rose from the table and went into the drawing-room, and Yorke could see that her face was pale, and that she looked hurt and ashamed. The man is perfectly brutal in his want of perception, he said to himself. Decent interment indeed! I wonder what dungheap covers poor Falkland's bones?
When the gentlemen came into the drawing-room, Olivia was outside in the veranda, but she joined them soon afterwards and made tea. Yorke noticed, that the tea-serice and appointments were all handsome and expensive.
Presently Kirke proposed that Olivia should sing: and she went to the piano — a large one, evidently new like everything else. Kirke, who did not know one note of music from another, sat in an easy-chair with his hands behind his head and went to sleep. Yorke felt that politeness demanded he should go up and stand by the performer, but he could not bring himself to do what would seem like an act of forgiveness and blotting out old memories; so he too kept his chair. Maxwell did the same: and, after Olivia had sung and played for a few minutes, she stopped and joined them again. The cessation of the music awoke her husband, who held out his left hand as she passed his chair, and gave hers a caress. Yorke remembered the occasion when her first husband had done just the same thing, on the day when he first saw them together on the outbreak of the mutiny. Truly an old performer in the part, he thought, bitterly; and somehow the act made her sink lower in his estimation, although he could not help admitting to himself that if he had been the second husband, he should not have thought the worse of her for permitting these little endearments.
Maxwell and Yorke walked home together, instead of riding, the evening air being now cool and pleasant. They were both silent for a little while, each apparently averse to discuss the matter which occupied his thoughts. At last Maxwell said, with some bitterness of tone, "The commandant does not grow wiser in money matters as he grows older. What a foolish beginning, to be sure! It would need twice his pay to live in that style. And he must be heavily in debt, to start with — at least he was before the mutiny."
"But I suppose Mrs. Kirke succeeds to all her father's property? He ought to have saved a good deal with his large salary."
"I doubt if he had saved a farthing. There is nothing easier than to muddle away your income, however large it may be. He told me just before he started for England that he should have nothing but his pension to live on, barely enough for a bachelor who never gave money a thought; and he was saying what a comfort it was to him that his daughter was so well provided for. No, I can fancy a heedless youngster starting off in extravagance like this on his marriage — it was just the sort of thing a foolish young civilian might have done in old days; but a man like Kirke ought to have more sense than to begin by buying a lot of things he can't pay for. If he does not pull up soon there will be a smash, take my word for it. Well, I am glad I shall not be here to see it. No," he continued, seeing that the other looked surprised, "the war is over, and my work is done; I am entitled to my full pension, and may as well take it at once."
"I know we could not have expected you to stay much longer with us; it must be close on your time for promotion; but surely it is a bad time to retire, just as you are coming into the good things of the service."
"Good things of the service, — what are they? To become a superintending surgeon, and spend your day in an office making out returns and reports, and never seeing a real case from one year's end to the other? No, I am too fond of my profession for that, and I have enough for my wants. Besides, I daresay I may practice a little at home, if needs be. And to tell you the truth, Yorke," continued the doctor, stopping short — for they had now got to the point in the road where their ways parted — "I don't care to stay here any longer. Falkland was a dear friend of mine, and so was her father," — pointing with his hand in the direction of the house they had just left, — "and I can't bear to see her toying with another man in that way, and so soon, too, after that noble fellows death. I am not a marrying man myself, and may be peculiar in my ideas, but there seems a sort of degradation the thing."
Yorke, too, as he walked away, felt that there had been degradation, and yet he knew in his heart that the offence would have vanished from his eyes if Olivia had reserved her fondling for himself. "And what would my old friend Maxwell think of me, I wonder, if he knew that the feeling uppermost in my heart is envy, and not contempt?"
A big dinner given by the officers of Kirke's Horse at their mess to the commandant and his bride, at which Yorke as second in command occupied the centre of the table, with Olivia on his right hand, was the first of a series of entertainments held in honour of the newly-married couple; and society at Mustaphabad was as lively during that cold season as it had ever been in pre-mutiny days, the Kirkes soon beginning to return freely the hospitalities they received. A handsome new carriage for Olivia had arrived from Calcutta, with a pair of fast-trotting Australian horses; Kirke's own chargers were the best that could be got in India; and the officers of the regiment, who during the war had been dressed in plain drab little better than that worn by the men, were now requested to procure an elaborate uniform covered with embroidery, of a pattern designed by the colonel, and with horse-appointments to match. It was plain to everybody that this style of living would not be met by the salary of a commandant of irregular cavalry; but, although there were rumours in the station, where gossip as usual was rife, of servants' wages and bazaar bills unpaid, the general presumption was that Mrs. Kirke had been left a fortune by her father. A man who had drawn a large salary for many years, and kept only a bachelor establishment, would naturally have saved a good deal, which must have come to his only daughter. So society was satisfied, although pronouncing the Kirkes to be foolish in the matter of expenditure, and criticising freely the costly style of entertainment in which they indulged. Rather, they might have said, in which Kirke indulged, for he was the sole manager of their domestic concerns. His wife had had no experience of house-keeping, and Kirke found it easier to do things himself than to show her how to do them. Thus he began by ordering the dinner during their honeymoon, and kept up the practice, Olivia being quite satisfied to leave the matter in his hands, as well as the management of the servants and dealings with tradesmen. Her own toilet once furnished, she had no need for money, for there were no ladies' shops in Mustaphabad, and if there had been, cash payments would not have been employed. Thus, beyond ordering the carriage when she wanted it, or sending for her ayah when that domestic failed to appear at the proper time, Olivia took no more part in the management of the household than if she had been a guest in it, even her notes of invitation being carried out by one of the colonel's orderlies; and of the state of his ways and means she was wholly ignorant, as she was equally of the gossip about his debts. She had always been surrounded by easy circumstances, and the sort of life they led seemed quite in the natural way. After all, her establishment was not on a larger scale than that of Mrs. Plunger, whose husband commanded the dragoon regiment now at Mustaphabad; but then Olivia did not know that Colonel Plunger was a man of fortune, whose presence in India was an accident due to the mutiny, and who was anxiously casting about for the means of exchanging out of it again.
Any misgivings Yorke might have allowed himself to entertain lest Kirke should ill-treat his wife proved to be unfounded. Kirke, though a hard man and cruel in his dealings with enemies and rebels, was gentle with her; although not manifesting much of the little endearments which might naturally have been given to a newly-married wife, he was thoroughly kind, and Yorke could never detect anything in his treatment of her to which in his heart he could take exception. Kirke was disposed to be harsh to his men, and somewhat overbearing towards his officers, now that the war had come to an end; and was often violent with his servants, abusing them at meals if anything went wrong, and striking them for trifling offences; and this used at first to distress Olivia, who had never seen anything of the kind before, for her father was a man slow to anger, and Falkland used to treat everybody about him, native and European, with gentle courtesy; but after a a time she appeared to get accustomed to these ebullitions, and Yorke could not help admitting that she was both fond and proud of her husband, and that any qualms she might have felt at discarding himself — and he was not sure that she had ever entertained such a feeling — had become lulled to rest by the familiarity of the new footing on which they now stood to each other.
Thus the time passed on under these new and strange conditions. Among other liberal tastes Kirke indulged in, was that of keeping open house for the officers of the regiment. Although fond of his wife's society, and frequenting the mess but little, for he neither smoked nor played billiards, he was not a man of much mental resource, and preferred always seeing his wife at the head of the table with more or less company sitting at it, to dining alone with her; Yorke especially was very frequently there, and even when her health no longer permitted her to dine out, or receive general company, he still received frequent invitations as an old friend to join their dinner, and was thus constantly at the house, as constantly making resolutions to break off the intimacy and to get transferred to another regiment, or at least to go on leave, but nevertheless still hanging on, accepting the invitations received almost daily, watching the condition of his hostess with feelings strangely compounded of interest, anger, and self-contempt.