The Dilemma/Chapter XII
CHAPTER XII.
Yorke felt as if in a trance as he drove away from the race-course, sitting opposite to Miss Cunningham in the carriage he had been accustomed to view reverentially from a distance as if the chariot of a goddess; and when the young lady, declaring that he would catch cold in his thin silk jacket, insisted on wrapping her spare shawl over his shoulders, even the presence of the commissioner and the mounted orderlies behind could hardly restrain him from seizing one of the slender hands which performed the office and carrying it to his lips. Withal he could not help feeling a sense of the incongruity of his position. Had he broken a couple of legs there might have been some excuse; but when, in fact, there was nothing the matter with him, was he not an impostor to allow himself to be petted in this way? Still it was inexpressibly delightful.
It seemed as if hardly a few seconds had passed when the swift-trotting horses turned off the road, through the hole in the mud wall which did duty for a gateway, and were pulled up before the veranda of Yorke's bungalow. Must then this vision of paradise end so quickly? Then a sudden fit of boldness seized the young man. It was getting late, and they had still a long way to go; would not Mr. and Miss Cunningham stop and breakfast? The commissioner said something about having to be early in court, and that Colonel Falkland, who was to ride back, would be waiting breakfast for them. Well, then, pleaded Yorke, they must at least have a cup of tea before going on; and he made his request so earnestly, standing at the steps of the carriage, jockey-cap in hand. Miss Cunningham's shawl still over his shoulders, while she looked at her father as if seconding the request, that the good-natured commissioner agreed to stop for a few minutes, and the little party entered the bungalow.
A qualm of doubt shot across Yorke's mind as to the state in which the bungalow might be, and lest the table-attendant might appear clothed in the dirty calico drawers and scull-cap which formed his ordinary costume while preparing breakfast for the establishment; but that worthy having espied the carriage and outriders from the little shed on the borders of the garden which did duty for kitchen, donned his tunic, waist-belt, and turban of white with a quick appreciation of the position, and came running up to make his salaam; fortunately, too, the joint valet of the establishment had already dusted and arranged the sitting-room. It was a simple apartment enough, and might have been taken for the type of many similar ones to be found scattered over India. A room about twenty feet square, with whitewashed walls, and a whitewashed ceiling-cloth concealing the thatched roof, entered from the little verandah by a door in the middle of one side. This verandah, supported on wooden posts, was equipped with a pair of cane-backed lolling-chairs with projections for resting the legs upon. A door on the opposite side opened into a similar verandah, where three earthen jars suspended one above the other in a bamboo frame did duty as a water-filter; sundry empty boxes of beer and soda-water were piled against the wall; while a bull-terrier, the property of Mr. Spragge, was nursing in a basket a family of puppies. A talking mina in a cage, and a rat-trap, completed the adornments of this veranda. In the centre of the sitting-room was a camp-table, whereon was set out the breakfast-equipage on a passably white cloth. In one corner stood Spragge's writing-table, also susceptible of being folded up and carried on a camel, and therefore not furnished with drawers; failing which, Mr. Spragge's correspondence and business papers were distributed on the top, for the most part muster-rolls, company-returns, and tradesmen's bills, mixed up with a loose cheroot or two and some discarded quill-pen slumps. Another camp-table sacred to Yorke's affairs presented a more orderly arrangement. For ornament the walls were decorated with a couple of boar-spears placed crosswise, a couple of fowling-pieces with cleaning rods and appurtenances, and a modest assortment of hunting-whips and walking-canes. There were also a couple of coloured engravings, each representing a female figure with low dress held on by no particular fastening, and kept up in apparent defiance of the laws of gravity, spotless bare feet, and simpering face, entitled respectively Spring and Summer: works of art purchased by Mr. Spragge at an auction, and accepted by him as representing the most refined type of female beauty, but now somewhat spotted and discoloured by the damp of successive rainy seasons. There was also the punkah, which had remained hanging during the cold season, and now drooped more at one end than the other by reason of partial decay of the suspending ropes. A hanging book-shelf completed the inventory. The open doors right and left, communicating with the owners' respective bedrooms, showed that the rest of the bungalow was furnished in the same simple fashion. Each room contained a camp-bed, a chair, a chest of drawers, the top of which garnished with spurs did duty for a dressing-table, and a couple of bullock trunks, with a row of boots and shoes arrayed against the wall. Add an absence of curtains, save some of rushes before the glass doors to keep out the flies and sparrows, and a bright Indian sun reflected within, and the abode, if unadorned and simple, was light and cheerful.
"You see here another phase of Indian life," said Yorke, while the order for tea — given not without a qualm lest the establishment should prove unable to produce a third tea-cup — was in course of execution; "all is not splendour and luxury, you see."
"A soldier's habits ought to be simple," said Miss Cunningham, looking round the room; "and in these days of luxury and self-indulgence, don't you think it is simplicity which is to be admired rather than furniture and knickknacks?" And as she asked the question with her earnest voice, Yorke felt that henceforth the life of a faqueer should be his highest ideal. "But I see you have the best of furniture," she continued, pointing with her parasol to the little book-case; and then going nearer to it, added, "all for use too — Napier, Jomini, Cæsar, Arrian Homer (I am glad you find a little room for poets among all these learned people), 'Military Surveying,' 'Mathematics for Practical Men.' Ah! if some one would only write a book of mathematics for unpractical women! Colonel Falkland said you were very studious; but it must be hard to read all these dry books in this climate. Already I feel it almost impossible sometimes to do anything useful, and they say this heat is nothing to what is coming by-and-by."
"These books belong most of them to Captain Braddon of my regiment. He was on the staff for many years, you know, and has a regular library. If the days are hot sometimes they are long enough for anything. The real difficulty ought to be, not reading books, but procuring them; but the best of us are sadly idle fellows, I am afraid."
"And here is the Blue-book, too, on the Crimean war," observed the commissioner, taking it up, and immediately becoming absorbed in its contents.
Then Yorke had the young lady to himself for a few sweet minutes, while he showed her Spragge's puppies and the talking mina, till the tea was brought, and the party sat down to partake of it, Yorke bringing a third chair from his bedroom, and still in his jockey-dress, which he would fain have changed, for the wearing of it seemed to invite continued attention to his feats and his fall, but that he recollected that the bedroom door could not be got to close; moreover, he grudged the time, and indeed the moments flew away only too quickly — for, the tea consumed, the commissioner was urgent to be going. Miss Cunningham too pleading as an excuse for hurrying away that Colonel Falkland would be waiting breakfast: and it seemed hardly five minutes before they were again in their carriage. And then he held Miss Cunningham's hand for a moment in his own, while she, looking into his face with her dark eyes, for the last time expressed in earnest tones her hope that he would not suffer from the effects of his accident; and then the carriage with the two orderlies behind was soon whirled away out of sight, leaving the young man standing on the steps of the veranda, his regret at their departure more than counterbalanced for the moment by the elation which their visit had caused. What if this visit should be the forerunner of happiness to come? Miss Cunningham sitting under his roof, and without the commissioner, and sharing not only his tea, but everything else.
How pointedly she had declared for simplicity! Well, his future house should be better than this, and yet be still simple and modest in comparison with what she was accustomed to.
Yorke's rise in public estimation in consequence of his performances was sufficiently indicated by his receiving in the forenoon an invitation to dine with Colonel Tartar the following evening at the hussar mess, where he sat next his host, with Major Winge on the other side, Gowett and Scurry, who were loud enough elsewhere, talking in subdued tones at the end of the table; and afterwards took a hand at sixpenny whist with the colonel, the doctor of the regiment, and the major; for Colonel Tartar, although not averse to an occasional bet in public, discouraged high play in his own mess-room.