To his own sore discomfort of mind, Dick surprised the same inconsistency in himself. It was one of his favourite theories that women who aped men (the term was a comprehensive one, and covered a good many things, from studying art to riding a bicycle), lost by such a course of action any right to help or special courtesy from men. And yet he found himself watching jealously for any chance of moving Miss Keeling’s deck-chair for her, or fetching her a book from the library, without even waiting to be asked. It gave him a curious feeling of gratification to catch the look of pleased surprise on her face, and to receive words of thanks from her lips—to know, in short, that he had made her indebted to him, and that she liked it. Moreover, in spite of his former unhappy experience, he seized every opportunity of conversation with her, and engaged her in endless arguments on the Woman Question—a species of mental activity which Georgia hated at all times, and which was particularly distasteful to her in this case, since only the very surface of the subject could of necessity be touched.
“It is really too bad of Major North to go on teasing Miss Keeling in this way,” said Lady Haigh to Mr Stratford one evening; “and if he only knew it, it is so silly of him, too. Georgia has had plenty of practice in arguments of this kind, for every man she meets begins his acquaintance with her by trying to convert her. She has her most telling pieces of evidence all marshalled ready for use, while Major North has nothing but a few prejudices to support him. The other men all give it up, sooner or later, and decide to accept things as they are, and be thankful, and why doesn’t he?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Stratford. “Perhaps his obstinacy is stronger than theirs, or he thinks he has a right to carry matters further—as a family friend of Miss Keeling’s.”
“As if that would have any influence over her!” said Lady Haigh, scornfully. “Now, I ask you, is it likely that after going through her training as creditably as she has done, she would ever allow herself to be convinced that it had been impossible or improper for her to study medicine? And if she was convinced, do you think any woman worthy of the name would ever allow him to see it?”
“I should think it extremely improbable. But according to North himself, his intention is purely philanthropic. He told me yesterday that he considered it only charity to talk to Miss Keeling as often as he possibly could, in order to protect her from that terrible youngster.”
Lady Haigh went off into a fit of subdued laughter, which would have astonished and wounded Dick if he had known its cause, for he believed honestly in the explanation of his conduct which he had offered, quite unasked, to Stratford. If it did give him a thrill of pleasure when Miss Keeling’s dark eyes were raised to his face, in inquiry or in indignant protest, or even in mirthful contradiction, it was merely because his chivalry was receiving an incidental and wholly unlooked-for reward. He was only doing his duty in protecting a lady of his acquaintance against a youth who had shown himself disposed to take an undue advantage either of her kindness or her thoughtlessness. It did not strike him that Miss Keeling might be quite able to take care of herself under the circumstances, much less that she might prefer to do so; but Fitz Anstruther was made aware of the fact before the voyage concluded.
“At last!” he exclaimed, one evening, with a sigh of satisfaction, as he annexed the chair which Dick had just vacated. “I do believe that conceited beast North thinks you like to hear him everlastingly prosing away, Miss Keeling.”
“People are often blind to one’s real feelings in their presence,” said Georgia; but the double meaning went unperceived.
“Yes; but he might have had a little pity for me,” said Fitz, complacently, for he had an artless habit of exhibiting to the public gaze any sentiments, such as most people prefer to keep concealed in their own bosoms, that he considered did him credit. “Every one on board must know by this time that I am awfully gone on you.”
“Mr Anstruther!”
“Oh, I mean, of course, that I have admired you awfully ever since I first knew you. A fellow expects a little consideration to be shown him when he is in l—I mean—don’t you know?”
“How long have you known me, by the bye?” inquired Georgia.
“Oh, all this voyage. It’s been abominably long, don’t you think? But I don’t mean that, you know; it’s been jolly.”
“Yes; it is really a long time,” pursued Georgia, meditatively. “It is all but a fortnight, isn’t it?”
“A fortnight is as long as a year sometimes,” said Fitz. “I mean, as good,” he added, hurriedly.
“Yes; only a fortnight ago you were saying all this to Miss Hervey,” was the unexpected response.
“Oh, I say now, Miss Keeling, that’s a bit hard on a man,” cried Fitz, much wounded.
“Aman?” said Georgia, inquiringly; and the youth writhed.
“Of course I was awfully gone on Miss Hervey before we started,” he said, sulkily; “but it was only because she was so pretty, and she doesn’t care for me a scrap. She told me so lots of times.”
“Is that intended as an excuse for the way in which you have been behaving lately?” asked Georgia; “because I don’t quite see the connection. Allow me to tell you, Mr Anstruther, that you have been doing your best to make both yourself and me supremely ridiculous. I can’t interfere with you if your ambition is to make every one laugh at you, though I may regret it for you own sake; but I object very strongly to your trying to render me absurd.”
“Mayn’t a—a fellow change his mind?” Fitz wished to know, in an injured tone. “If I am in love I’m not ashamed of it.”
“I hoped that your own good feeling would have led you to see by this time how foolish you have been,” said Georgia, coldly. “I could have freed myself in a moment from the annoyance you have caused me by a word to Sir Dugald”—Fitz’s face fell suddenly—“but I was sorry to lower his opinion of you at the very beginning of your work with him. Your sister is a great friend of mine, and I hoped you might be sufficiently like her not to resent advice which was offered for your good.”
“I’m awfully obliged to you for not complaining to Sir Dugald about me,” returned the culprit, with some reluctance. “I didn’t mean to behave like a cad to you, Miss Keeling, nor to make you look ridiculous. I’ll try not to bother you any more, if you really don’t like it. Only mayn’t I speak to you sometimes? It will be rather dull if I am not to say a word all the way to Kubbet-ul-Haj.”
“I am quite serious,” said Georgia, rather sharply.
“So am I, Miss Keeling, I do assure you—tremendously serious. It is a serious thing when a fellow finds himself brought up in mid-career in this way. I only want to have my orders given me. I like to be definite. We may be friends still, I hope?”
“I see that I need not have taken so much trouble to spare your feelings,” said Georgia. “If I had ever imagined, Mr Anstruther, that your conduct sprang simply from a desire to make me a laughing-stock on board, I should not have felt inclined to waste any consideration on you.”
“Oh, Miss Keeling, you are making a mistake—on my word and honour you are!” cried the youth, earnestly. “What a beast you must think me! I know I am bad enough; but it’s not quite that. I do admire you tremendously, and so I did Miss Hervey. It’s a way I have. I don’t mean any harm; but I do delight in being rotted about it by other chaps. They are all so dreadfully afraid of being suspected to be the least bit in love, that it’s a great temptation to show them how well one can go through with it.”
“Then try to conquer the temptation,” said Georgia, promptly, although she found her fan useful to conceal a smile. “You are far too young to think of being in love yet. What you call love is merely a momentary enthusiasm. Why not wax enthusiastic over some cause, for a change, or even some man—Sir Dugald, for instance?”
“I did think a lot about him at first, but he snubbed me in such a horribly cold-blooded way,” was the reply.
“Take my advice, and think all the more of him for that. You will be thankful for it yet. And perhaps you may be thankful some day for what I have said to you to-night. My lecture was not received quite in the spirit I had anticipated, but I think you must see that the form which your enthusiasms took was not calculated to do any good to any one, and might have done harm. Happily Miss Hervey and I are both a good many years older than you are, but a young girl might have thought you were sincere, and have suffered terribly when she was undeceived.”
“It is so hard to be always thinking of what might be the consequences of everything!” lamented Fitz.
“It would be harder to have to take the consequences after refusing to think of them. You will marry some day, I hope, and would you feel you were acting fairly towards your wife if you had frittered away beforehand all the affection and devotion which were her right? Keep yourself for her.”
“Thanks awfully, Miss Keeling, for saying that. No one ever spoke to me in this way before. You will let me be friends with you, won’t you? I should like you to advise me always.”
“I can promise you more advice than you will ever think is needed. In a few years,” said Georgia, with some bitterness, “you will hate the very sight of me, because of what I have said to you to-night.”
“If I was ever such a beastly cad, I hope I should be punished as I deserved!” said Fitz, fervently.
“It is only the way of the world—of men, at any rate,” returned Georgia, as lightly as she could; but when she was alone a little later, her mind recurred to the subject, and found no mirth in it.
“It is Major North’s way too,” she said to herself. “How he would have sneered if he had heard me to-night! I might be that boy’s grandmother, from the way he accepts my scoldings.”
“I beg your pardon for disturbing you, but I think you must belong to the British Mission to Ethiopia?”
The speaker was a hot and dusty lady, mounted on a sorry pony, who had halted in front of the hotel at Bab-us-Sahel, the port of Khemistan, in which Sir Dugald Haigh’s party were quartered. Dick North, who had been reclining in a cane chair on the verandah, with a cigar and a wonderfully printed local paper, jumped up when he heard the voice.
“I am a member of the Mission,” he answered. “Can I do anything for you? I am sorry that Sir Dugald Haigh is out, but perhaps you would prefer to wait for him? Won’t you come in out of the sun?”
“Thanks,” said the lady, dismounting nimbly before he could reach her, and giving the bridle to a youthful native groom who had accompanied her, “but I need not trouble Sir Dugald Haigh. Please tell me whether it is true that there is a lady doctor in your party?”
“Yes. Miss Keeling is her name.”
The lady uttered an exclamation of delight.
“Oh, that is just splendid! I must see her at once, please. My name is Guest; she will remember me if you tell her that Nurse Laura is here. I was a probationer at the Women’s Hospital when she was house-surgeon there, and we knew each other well. Please ask her to see me at once: it is a matter of life and death.”
Drawing forward a chair for the lady, Dick departed on his errand, and returned presently with Georgia, who had been resting in her room after a long ride in the morning. Miss Guest jumped up to meet her.
“Oh, Miss Keeling, it is such a relief to find you here! I want you to come with me at once, to see a poor woman who is most dangerously ill. I will tell you about it while you get your things together. There is not a moment to lose.”
The two ladies vanished round the corner of the verandah, and returned in a few minutes, Georgia wearing her riding-habit and carrying a professional-looking black bag.
“Would you be so kind as to tell them to put my saddle on a fresh horse for me, Major North?” she said, briskly. “I am afraid we are losing time.”
“What is it you are proposing to do?” asked Dick, after calling one of the native servants and giving him the order.
“Miss Keeling is going to ride out with me to our summer station,” explained Miss Guest, volubly. “Missionaries are not permitted to reside in Khemistan except in Bab-us-Sahel itself, you know, but the Government allows us to rent a small house in a village five miles off for the hot weather. This poor young woman is the wife of one of our native converts there, the son of the principal landowner.”
“But do you mean that Miss Keeling is to ride five miles in this heat, when she is tired already?” demanded Dick. “It is preposterous!”
“I should not think of asking her to do it if it was not so important,” said Miss Guest. “You see, I have ridden all the way in, and I am going out again with her.”
“You will be down with sunstroke to-morrow,” said Dick to Georgia. “Wait until it is a little cooler, and I will hunt up some sort of cart and drive you out.”
“We can’t afford the time,” said Georgia.
“No, indeed,” said Miss Guest; “I scarcely dared to come away myself. Happily, I was able to leave dear Miss Jenkins with the poor woman. She has such wonderful nerve! I believe she would have attempted the operation herself if only we had had the proper appliances.”
“It is a very good thing you had not,” murmured Georgia, grimly.
Dick glanced at her, hoping that she was giving way.
“Headlam will be back in another half-hour,” he said. “He has had plenty of experience, and he will be delighted to go out and see the woman.”
“Oh, but you don’t know Khemistan,” said Miss Guest, quickly. “Surely you must have forgotten that a gentleman would never be admitted into the women’s apartments.”
“I thought you said the people were Christians?” said Dick, taken aback.
“The husband is, but the wife has not been baptised, and is still in her father-in-law’s house. They are most bigoted people, and regard this as a kind of test case. Every one has been dinning into the poor young man’s ears that his wife’s illness is a judgment upon him for becoming a Christian, and his faith is beginning to waver. ‘What can these Christians and their Christ do for you?’ they ask him. He is terribly tried, and though Miss Jenkins and I have done everything we could think of for the poor girl, it was no good. Then we heard of the arrival of the Mission, and it suddenly flashed into my mind that I had seen something in a paper from home about a lady doctor who was to accompany it, and I rode over here at once, and found Miss Keeling, of all people. It was a real answer to prayer,” and Miss Guest’s voice faltered, and the tears rose in her eyes.
“Oh, when are they going to bring that horse?” said Georgia, impatiently.
“I hear it coming now,” said Dick. “But let me drive you over, Miss Keeling; it won’t be so fatiguing for you, and I am sure I can borrow a cart from some one very soon.”
“I can’t lose another minute,” said Georgia. “No, thank you, Major North, we must not wait.”
“But just tell me when you are likely to be ready, that we may send a carriage to fetch you.”
“I can’t tell. These cases vary so much. I shall probably be obliged to remain at the village all night.”
“But this is absurd! You are throwing away your health. What does this woman signify to you?”
“It is my professional duty to attend any one who summons me,” said Georgia, giving him an indignant glance; “even if there were no special reasons connected with this case.”
“It is my professional duty to attend any one who summons me,” said Georgia, giving him an indignant glance.
“It is my professional duty to attend any one who summons me,” said Georgia, giving him an indignant glance.
“Well, if you will do these ridiculous things, I can’t help it!” said Dick, angrily. “I suppose you will have your own way.”
“I think it extremely probable that I shall,” retorted Georgia. “No, thank you, I won’t trouble you—I can mount alone.”
With an intensity that would have seemed laughable to himself under any other circumstances, Dick longed that she might find the feat impracticable; but she beckoned to the groom to bring the horse to the verandah steps, and, mounting with great agility, rode away with Miss Guest, who had been staring with round eyes at the “horrid sneering officer,” as, after this day’s experience, she persisted in denominating Dick.
As for Dick himself, he shrugged his shoulders as he looked after the two ladies, and went away to Stratford’s room to relieve his mind. Stratford, who was lying on his bed reading, looked up in surprise as he entered.
“I thought I had left you comfortably established on the verandah?” he remarked.
“I was driven away by an invasion of the Amazons,” said Dick, gloomily, taking a seat on the table, where he smoked in silence for a few minutes. “If there is one kind of creature I bar and detest above all others”—he burst out suddenly—“it’s the New Woman!”
“Have you met one?” inquired Stratford, with deep interest. “I always thought it was a case of ‘much oftener prated of than seen?’”
“There’s no need to go about looking for specimens,” returned Dick. “We’ve got one with us, worse luck!”
“You have been getting the worst of it in an argument again, haven’t you?” asked Stratford, genially.
“What in the world has that to do with it? I don’t want any of your chaff. It ought to be made penal for any woman to enter any trade or profession practised by men.”
“Good gracious! would you add the attraction of forbidden fruit? Still, I don’t say that your plan isn’t worth considering. The penalty would be death, I suppose, and it might redress the inequality of the sexes a little.”
“Oh, hang it all, Stratford!” cried Dick, flinging away his cigar, “I’m serious. It makes me perfectly sick to see these women parading their independence of men, and glorying in what they know, and ought never to have learnt. It’s bad enough when they are strangers, and you don’t care a scrap about them, but when it comes to a girl you’ve known——”
“Better not go on, old man,” said Stratford. “You may say more than you mean, and be sorry for it when you are cooler.”
“I can’t help it. I know I’m safe with you. Now I put it to you: can a man be cool when he sees a girl he knew years ago—his sister’s friend—turning into one of these unsexed women, of whom the less that is said the better? One would rather see her in her grave!”
“You are a little out of sorts,” said Stratford, with imperturbable calmness, “and you are making mountains out of molehills. I won’t pretend not to know what you are driving at, but I do say that I think you are using most unwarrantable language—— Hullo! who’s there? Come in.”
This was in answer to a knock at the door, which opened immediately, and admitted Fitz Anstruther. The young fellow’s hands were clenched and his face flushed, and it was apparent to the two men that he was hard put to it to restrain an outburst of furious passion.
“I wasn’t listening,” he said, hastily, “but I couldn’t help hearing what you were saying. These beastly rooms——” He broke off suddenly, and his hearers, perceiving that the side walls only reached within some six feet of the roof, realised that their conversation must have been audible to any of their neighbours on either side who chanced to be in their rooms. “But that’s neither here nor there,” he went on. “I heard you blackguarding Miss Keeling’s name in the most shameful way, and I am not going to listen to it.”
“I was not aware that we had mentioned the name of any lady,” said Stratford. Fitz was taken aback for a moment, but recovered himself speedily.
“It wasn’t you, it was Major North,” he said, glaring at Dick. “He mentioned no names, but if he can assure me he wasn’t speaking of Miss Keeling, I’ll apologise at once. You see? I knew he could not do it. Now look here, Major North—you are my superior, and I know you can ruin me if you like, but I won’t hear Miss Keeling spoken of in that way.”
“Your hearing what you did was quite your own affair,” said Dick, coolly. He had an enormous advantage over Fitz, for the sudden attack had restored him to his usual calmness, but the boy did not flinch.
“I know, but I can’t help that. You may be sure I wouldn’t have listened to it of my own accord, but when you talked as you did, it naturally forced itself on my hearing, and a nice hearing it was! Miss Keeling has no one here to look after her, and if you are cad enough to take advantage of that, I’ll do what I can. If you dare to say that she isn’t every bit as good and as gentle as your own sister, I tell you to your face you’re a liar.”
“Anstruther!” cried Stratford, sitting up suddenly, “do you know what you are saying? For your own sake and the lady’s be quiet.”
“I can’t help it,” repeated Fitz. “Miss Keeling has been awfully kind to me, and I’m not going to hear her insulted. You can do what you like, Major North. If you want to fight, I’m ready.”
“Young idiot! who wants to fight you?” growled Dick, lounging to the door with his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t know you were going to hold a levée, Stratford. I think I’ll leave you to train the young idea for a little.”
“You haven’t answered me,” said Fitz, doggedly, barring his passage; but Stratford interposed again.
“Have the goodness to sit down on that chair, young Anstruther. I want a straight talk with you.” The boy obeyed sullenly, and Stratford went on. “As you are in my department, I suppose it falls to me to ask you, now that North is gone, whether you think you have done a very fine thing?”
“I don’t think about it at all,” was the uncompromising response, “but I know I should have been a cad not to have done it.”
“Let us just consider what it is you have done,” said Stratford. “You hear North and myself engaged in private conversation, and you thrust yourself into it uninvited.”
“If it had been private I shouldn’t have heard it,” retorted Fitz.
“Well, it was intended to be private, at any rate. Couldn’t you have gone away, or have let us know that you were listening?”
“That’s what I would have done, certainly, if it hadn’t been for what North said. I couldn’t stand that.”
“No? and you felt bound to come in and tell us so. Now, Anstruther, I am going to speak to you as a friend. When you are a little older, you will know that men of the world—gentlemen—are not in the habit of bringing the names of ladies into a discussion. If they differ in opinion on some subject of this kind, they contrive to quarrel ostensibly about something else.”
“And you would have me let Major North say the vile things he was doing about Miss Keeling for all the hotel to hear, and yet pretend to take no notice?”
“Allow me to remind you that North mentioned no names. Any listener could only at best have made a guess at the identity of the lady in question, until you came in and published her name.”
Fitz’s face was turning a dull red, and he said nothing. Stratford saw his advantage, and followed it up.
“You ought to be very thankful that there are so few people about just at this time. If the place had been full, you might have done terrible harm. It would have been quite possible to remonstrate with North on general grounds, if you felt called upon to do it, without mentioning any names or calling anybody a liar, but to march in and identify a particular lady as the one of whom these things had been said, was unpardonable. So was the way in which you did it. Of course, I don’t know what your ideas as to duty and discipline may be, but it does not seem to me your business to reprove North at all.”
“I wouldn’t have done it, except in this case,” said Fitz, eagerly. “I know he has led a rough life, and I can put up with a good deal from him, but when it comes to behaving like a cad to a lady, I had to speak.”
“And who gave you the right to make excuses for your superiors, or to bring accusations against them?” demanded Stratford, in a tone which made the youthful censor shake in his shoes. “I think you have forgotten the position North holds, and the way in which he gained it. Any man in Khemistan would laugh at you if you told him that Dick North had been rude to a lady. He is one of the most chivalrous fellows that ever breathed. You may not know that when Fort Rahmat-Ullah was relieved, and the non-combatants conducted back into safety, North gave up his horse to a Eurasian clerk’s wife who had a sick child, and walked all the way himself.”
“I can’t make it out,” said Fitz, hopelessly.
“You see that it doesn’t do to judge a man merely on the strength of a momentary impression, then? Well, I will tell you in confidence what really happened this afternoon. It was this very chivalry of North’s which got him into trouble. You know that the lady of whom mention has unfortunately been made is very independent, and I gather that she persisted in refusing all North’s offers of help in some business or other. That hurt his feelings, and he came to my room to have his growl in peace, with the result you know. I don’t say he was right, but I do say you were wrong.”
“I’m awfully sorry,” said Fitz. “I will apologise, Mr Stratford, if you say I ought.”
“I don’t think it is advisable to make more of the matter. I will undertake to convey your sentiments to North, if you like.”
“Thank you; and perhaps I had better apologise to Miss Keeling too?”
“No!” Stratford almost shouted. “How old do you consider yourself, Anstruther? Twenty? I shouldn’t have thought it. Your ideas are what one might expect of a boy fresh from a dame’s school. You must learn never under any circumstances to trouble a lady about any affair of the kind. I really did not expect to have to undertake infant tuition when I started on this journey. If you have made a fool of yourself, don’t go and make things worse by worrying Miss Keeling.”
“I’m awfully sorry,” murmured Fitz again. “Thank you for what you have been telling me, Mr Stratford. I wish I hadn’t said what I did to Major North, and yet I know I should do it again if I heard him talking like that, and I feel I ought to do it too.”
“Your ideas are mixed,” said Stratford. “You had better go away and think things out a little by yourself,” and Fitz departed obediently.
Georgia did not return to the hotel again that evening. Dick, appealed to by Lady Haigh as the member of the party who had last seen her, said that he believed she had gone out into the country with some lady missionary or other, and might not be back until the next day. The news drew from Sir Dugald a mild lamentation to the effect that he really thought they had done with missionaries when they left Baghdad, a remark for which he received a reproof from Lady Haigh afterwards in private.
“I wish you would not say that kind of thing before these new young men, Dugald. They don’t know how kind you were to the missionaries at Baghdad, and they may think you mean it,” a charge to which Sir Dugald offered no defence. It was by means of rebukes of this kind that Lady Haigh kept up the fiction dear to her soul that she ruled her husband with a rod of iron, and guided him gently into the paths it was well for him to take; whereas those who watched the pair were of opinion that Sir Dugald’s was emphatically the ruling spirit, and that his mastery in his own household was so complete that he could afford to allow his wife to think otherwise without making any protest.
In spite of Dick’s careless and positive words to Lady Haigh, it might have been observed that he lingered on the hotel verandah later than any one else that night, and that he appeared there again at a most unearthly hour in the morning, wearing the haggard and strained aspect characteristic of a man who has slept only by fits and starts, owing to the fear of oversleeping himself. One who did not know the circumstances of the case might have said he was there watching for some one, but that would have been manifestly absurd. Whatever might be the cause of his unusual wakefulness, he was occupying his place of the day before when the creaking and groaning of wheels, gradually coming nearer, announced an arrival. A few minutes later, as Georgia, tired and exhausted, descended from the missionaries’ bullock-cart, which was wont to convey Miss Jenkins and Miss Guest, in company with a miniature harmonium, a stock of vernacular gospels, and occasionally a native Bible-woman, on their itinerating tours among the villages around, she discovered him waiting to receive her. She was so tired that she had dozed unconsciously in the bullock-cart, in spite of the rough music of the wheels and of the appalling jolts; and now, awakened suddenly by the cessation of both sound and motion, she stood shivering and blinking in the grey twilight, a sadly unimpressive figure. Dick mercifully forbore to look at her as he took the bag from her hand and helped her up the steps, then settled her in his chair and shouted to the servants to hurry with the doctor lady’s coffee. Georgia tried to protest feebly, but he was adamant.
“You must have something to eat before you go to bed, or we shall have you down with fever this evening. You will allow me to know something of the climate of Khemistan, I hope, though I am not a ‘professional’ man.”
There was an unconscious emphasis on the adjective, which showed Georgia that coals of fire were being heaped upon her head in return for her words of the day before. But she did not respond to the challenge, for she was too much exhausted for a war of words; and, moreover, the coffee was very acceptable, even though it was Major North to whom she owed it. When the sleepy and unwilling servants had made and brought the coffee, however, she paused before tasting it.
“I can’t argue with you now, Major North, but I just want to say this. It was worth while going through all the training, and some of it was bad enough at the time, simply for the sake of this night’s work. If I never attended another case, I should be glad I was a doctor, if only to remember the happiness of those poor Christians in that village.”
“I wasn’t aware that I had attempted to argue,” said Dick, who was busily cutting what he imagined was thin bread and butter. “There, eat that, Miss Keeling. The woman didn’t die, then?”
“No, I hope she will do well. The people, heathen and Christians alike, took it as a miracle. If it helps Miss Guest and Miss Jenkins in their work, I shall be so thankful.”
“Time enough to consider that afterwards,” said Dick, as Georgia put down her cup and sat gazing into the twilight. “If it helps you to an attack of fever, you won’t be thankful, nor shall I. By the bye, what happened to your horse? I hope you didn’t meet with an accident?”
“Oh no, but I was so dreadfully sleepy that I was afraid to ride, and the ladies lent me their bullock-cart. They are to send the horse back later in the day. You mustn’t think that I am generally so much overcome by sleep after spending a night out of bed as I am now. When I was in hospital I thought nothing of sitting up. It is simply that I am out of practice.”
“Of course,” said Dick, politely, suppressing the retort he would infallibly have made had things been in their normal condition. It was so pleasant to be caring for Georgia in this way, without feeling the slightest desire to quarrel with her, that he began to wish she would be called out every night by her professional duties. What did his own broken slumbers signify? At any rate, he had stolen a march on that young fool Anstruther now.Hehad not thought of seeing that Miss Keeling had something to eat when she came in. And Dick caught himself afterwards recalling with something like tenderness, a feeling which was obviously out of the question, the pressure of Miss Keeling’s hand as she shook hands with him before going indoors, and the tones of her voice as she said—
“Thank you so much, Major North. It was most kind of you to take all this trouble for me. I hope you won’t be very tired after getting up so early.”
“Oh, I just happened to be out here. I didn’t sleep very well,” he explained, airily, and went off well satisfied with his own readiness of resource, not dreaming that Georgia, in her own room, was saying bitterly to herself as she took down her hair—
“He need not have told me so particularly that he didn’t get up because of me. I knew he did not, of course, but it wasn’t necessary for him to say it. Well, I shall not presume upon his kindness, although he is afraid I may.”
The natural consequence of this deceitful excess of candour on Dick’s part was, that when he met her next, he found that he had lost any ground which his ready services might have gained for him in Miss Keeling’s estimation. For him the events of the early morning had cast a glamour over the rest of the day, and when he saw Georgia again towards evening, he was prepared to meet her with the friendliness natural between two people who had found the barrier of prejudice which separated them partially broken down. But she received him with the easy graciousness she would have shown to the merest acquaintance, expressing her gratitude for his kindness, indeed, but ignoring entirely the approach to something like intimacy which he thought had been established between them. Dick was not accustomed to be repulsed in this way, and when he overheard Georgia telling Sir Dugald how fortunate it had been for her that she found Major North up when she returned, and how kind he had been in getting her some coffee, his wrath, if not loud, was deep. She was betraying what he liked to think of as a secret known only to their two selves, and making an ass of him before the other fellows. This led him to remember that, after all, circumstances were unchanged. Georgia was still a doctor, and displayed no symptoms of being convinced, whether against her will or otherwise, by his arguments against the existence of medical women, or of discontinuing the practice of her profession. Nay more, Dick was beginning to see that it was unlikely she would ever be so convinced, and that if there was to be peace between them it must be on the basis of acquiescence in facts as they were. Hence, as he was still determined under no circumstances to extend even the barest toleration to lady doctors, it is not surprising that Dick felt himself a much injured man, and that his soul revolted a dozen times a-day against the conclusions at which he had been forced to arrive.
As for Georgia, she continued to take pains to show him that she quite understood his view of the case, which she did not, and devoted herself largely to itinerating in the country round with Miss Jenkins and Miss Guest. She was welcomed on account of her medical skill in many places where they had not been able to gain a footing, and had the pleasure of knowing that she left these houses open to her friends for the future. The work proved to be so interesting that she was very sorry to leave it, and on the eve of departure she confided to Lady Haigh the resolution she had definitely formed to come back to Bab-us-Sahel when the Mission returned from Kubbet-ul-Haj, and to settle down with Miss Guest and Miss Jenkins.
“Nonsense, Georgie! you mustn’t throw away your talents like that,” cried Lady Haigh, aghast.
“But I should only stay here until they would allow me to settle on the frontier, of course,” said Georgia.
“I wish General Keeling were alive,” said Lady Haigh, irritably. “He would very soon put a stop to these absurd schemes. Or I wish you were married. That would do as well.”
“But if that is one reason for my not marrying?” asked Georgia.
“When we come to the crest of this rise we shall be able to see Fort Rahmat-Ullah in the distance,” said Stratford to Georgia. He had quitted his place in the long cavalcade formed by the members of the Mission and their baggage-animals, as it made its way across the broken ground, alternately sandy and rocky, which characterises the districts lying near the frontier of Khemistan, and had joined the two doctors, who were riding somewhat in advance of the caravan in order to escape the dust. Dr Headlam turned back to the side of Lady Haigh, with whom Stratford had been riding, and Georgia looked round at her new cavalier with eyes of eager interest.
“It was Fort Rahmat-Ullah that Major North relieved, wasn’t it?” she asked, although she knew perfectly well what the answer would be.
“Yes, during our last little war but two or three. It is our farthest outpost on this frontier, and, when the tribes were up, they naturally set their hearts on getting hold of it. Of course the garrison has been strengthened since then, and thepax Britannicais quite effective in the neighbourhood. We are to spend a few days at the fort, you know, before we bid farewell to civilisation, and make our dash into the desert, so that it is a comfort to feel that we need not expect to find ourselves besieged there. The only drawback is that North will be away.”
“Away?” asked Georgia in astonishment.
“Yes, didn’t you hear that he had got leave from the chief to go and see a friend away at Alibad, to the west of us? They used to work together in the old days, but North had the chance of distinction and got his V.C. and his promotion, and the other man didn’t. I rather like to see North going off in this way to look him up—shows he doesn’t forget old friends, and that sort of thing—and perhaps he is just as glad not to be lionised at the fort. It’s a little hard on us, though.”
“Yes, it is a little suggestive of ‘Hamlet’ with Hamlet left out,” observed Georgia, meditatively, determined that Mr Stratford should not perceive the unreasoning disappointment with which the news had infected her.
“And yet I don’t quite see what he could do for us if he was there, beyond giving us the gratification of beholding him on his native heath, so to speak,” pursued Stratford.
“Oh, well,” said Georgia, carelessly, “I was reckoning on his being able to ride out with us along the way he went, and show us just where his different adventures happened. It would make it seem so much more real, you know.” She was speaking easily and naturally, bent on accounting to herself as well as to Mr Stratford for that absurd sense of disappointment, which was so keen that she feared it must before this have betrayed itself in face or voice. But were Dick’s adventures not real to her? Had she not scanned the papers day by day at the time of the siege as eagerly as Mabel herself? And when at last the full account reached England of the relief of the fort, and of the heroism of the man through whose enterprise it had been accomplished, had she not bowed her head upon the page of the ‘Thunderer’ and cried heartily, out of pure joy in the remembrance that this man had once loved her? Decidedly there was no need that the events attending the relief of Fort Rahmat-Ullah should be rendered more vivid for Georgia; but Stratford seemed struck by the justice of her remark.
“That is quite true, Miss Keeling. North is treating us all very shabbily. I hope you will put it to him at lunch. He leaves us after the mid-day halt, you know.”
But Miss Keeling did not choose to do anything of the kind, and when Sir Dugald appealed to her to join in condemning North’s desertion, she smiled pleasantly as she answered, that no doubt Major North feared lest the attraction of his presence at Fort Rahmat-Ullah should distract the attention of the visitors from the less interesting duties which ought to engross them. The remark was intended to make Dick uncomfortable; and when Georgia saw that he was raging inwardly over the construction she had put upon his motives, absurd though it was, she felt happier, as having in some degree repaid him for the disappointment he had inflicted upon her, although, when he had ridden away, still fuming, she was filled with compunction, and spent some time in solitude and self-reproach, which meant bemoaning her own touchiness and calling herself names.
Her sorrow was not allowed to sleep, for at Fort Rahmat-Ullah everything around seemed calculated to recall Dick to her memory. The scenes connected with his great exploit were held in universal reverence, and from the officers of the detachment quartered in the fort nothing was heard but lamentations over his absence. On the very first evening the new-comers were swept away by the general wave of enthusiasm, and allowed themselves to be personally conducted round the walls, in order to have the different localities rendered memorable by the siege pointed out to them. But this was merely an informal inspection, for the next morning an old European sergeant, who had taken part in the Relief of Lucknow, and was now employed as some kind of clerk in the fort, made his appearance, and expressed a readiness to act as cicerone during a second tour of the place.
“Evidently,” said Stratford, “the thing to do here is to make the circuit of the walls once a-day, each time with a different guide.”
“We shall get together a good collection of the different legends which are beginning to crystallise round North’s exploit,” said Dr Headlam, who was a student of folk-lore. “I suppose we must go, or we shall hurt this old chap’s feelings. He regards North as something like a demigod.”
“I think once round the walls is enough for me,” said Sir Dugald, “so I must hope that the tutelary deity of the place will not be very furious at my neglect when we meet him again. What do the ladies intend to do?”
“Oh, we are going, of course,” said Lady Haigh, promptly, unfurling a huge white umbrella. “I always make a point of seeing and hearing everything I can about everybody.”
Sir Dugald sighed almost imperceptibly, and buried himself once more in his Ethiopian grammar, while the rest started out under the guidance of the old soldier. Constant practice on every new-comer who came in his way had made the sergeant perfect in the tale he had to tell. He knew exactly the points at which his hearers would be thrilled with horror or touched with sympathy, and he enjoyed keeping them on the rack of suspense when he reached a crisis in his story. He had been in the fort himself at the time of the siege, and Georgia held her breath as he described the wearing terror of the night-attacks, and the uneasiness of the long days, troubled by fears of the enemy without and of famine within the walls. Then she saw, as clearly as if she had been present, the little group of officers gathered in a shadowy corner of the ramparts one morning before night had given place to day. Dick was among them, disguised as one of the fair-skinned hillmen often met with along the Khemistan frontier, and he was going out alone, taking his life in his hand, in the forlorn hope of getting through the enemy and bringing help to the fort. So slight was the prospect of success that none but those who happened to be on the ramparts when he started knew of his expedition; and the women in the place, who were not told about it for fear of raising baseless hopes only to be dashed again, thought that he had been killed in a night sortie and his body not recovered. One by one his fellows gripped his hand and bade God keep him in his enterprise; then he was let down swiftly to the ground outside by means of a rope suspended in the shadow of the turret, and before the rope could be drawn up his form had melted into the shadows around.
Almost immediately on setting out he was met by perhaps the gravest of the perils he was to encounter. Descending a rugged hill into a dry watercourse, which he hoped would afford him a measure of cover, the loose stones rolling under his feet betrayed him to the drowsy watchman of a party of the enemy, who were sleeping, wrapped in their mantles, round a smouldering fire. They were between him and the fort, and there was no hope of retreat; but as the sentry’s bullet came skipping over the rocks past him, and the sleepers, on the alert at once, sat up and grasped their weapons, Dick’s resolution was taken. With a cry of joy he rushed towards the fire and inquired eagerly and incoherently in Khemistani whether the fort had fallen and he was too late to take his part in the plundering. The party upon whom he had chanced were all good Moslems, and their rage was extreme on discovering by his dress that the intruder was a hillman, and that they had been awakened because a wretch of an idolater was trying to get a share of their booty. He was driven from their camp with blows and curses, and ordered to tell his people that any further attempt to participate in the expected spoils would be met with force of arms. The same ruse helped him again and again during the day. On sighting a part of the enemy, he had only to approach them humbly and detail what had happened to him, asking for redress, when the same fate would befall him immediately on his mentioning what his crime had been. Every chase took him farther from the fort and nearer to civilisation, and at last he fell in with a small party of hillmen, fleeing from the hated Moslems into territory which was still British, who allowed him to join himself to them.
But this meeting landed him in another danger, for although he could speak the hill dialect well enough to pass muster with the lowlanders, he could not deceive those whose native tongue it was. For some time he parried questions by declaring that he belonged to a different tribe; but the hillmen grew more and more suspicious, thinking that he must be a spy from the camp of their hereditary foes. They kept a close watch on him, and he gathered that they intended to deliver him up to the first British patrol they came across. This would have suited his purpose excellently but for the extremely slow rate at which his new friends travelled, and he seized the first opportunity that offered itself of eluding their vigilance and striking off across country to the nearest fort. His late entertainers pursued him; but he reached the fort first and delivered his message, so that when the hillmen arrived they were electrified to behold him in uniform assisting in the preparations for the relief expedition. Thence his course had been, as Fitz Anstruther remarked irreverently, “a triumphal procession,” an observation which the old soldier who was acting as guide took in very good part.
“Ay,” he said, “and we are all proud of him here. We don’t have many ladies come to the fort, especially since the rising; but to hear some of them talk that have been here this last year, you’d think the whole place wasn’t nothing but a memorial of him, though there! we’re just about as bad ourselves. When a new subaltern joins—though it ain’t often we get them raw enough—the officers take him round and show him everything. When they get to the north face they tell him, ‘This here was named after Major North. He started on his journey down the slope.’ There wasn’t more than one of them took it right in; but the rest are always puzzled, and don’t like to contradict. By the time they’ve got it worked out in their minds they’re as proud of the Major as any of us, and had rather follow North of the Khemistan Horse than the Commander-in-Chief. Ah! he’s a brave chap and a cool one, and we were downright mad when we knew we were not to have him back here; but he’ll want all his bravery and all his level-headedness where you’re going.”
“Come, sergeant, you mustn’t frighten the ladies,” said Stratford.
“Frighten the ladies!” repeated the old man, scornfully. “I could a deal sooner frighten any of you gentlemen, and no offence to you, sir, neither. I’ve seen a good many frontier ladies in my time, and I can tell that these two is just as full of spirit as an egg is full of meat. Looking out for adventures, ma’am, ain’t you?” to Georgia. “I thought so; and her ladyship there, she’s been through so much that she ain’t afraid of nothing.”
“This is reassuring,” said Lady Haigh. “I hope you young men are now convinced what desirable travelling companions we are?”
“I don’t so much know about that,” said the old sergeant, reflectively. “I suppose as you’ll bundle yourselves up in veils, like the women of the country, when you get to Ethiopia, my lady?”
“Yes, I hear that we must,” returned Lady Haigh.
“That’s all right, then, and I’ll make bold to give the young lady a bit of advice. Don’t you go playing no tricks with your veil, ma’am; you keep it down when there’s any Ethiopians about. I could tell you of times when a whole caravan has been cut up for the sake of one woman, and she made a slave of.”
“Miss Keeling, you must swallow the warning for the sake of the compliment contained in it,” said Dr Headlam, while Fitz glared speechlessly at the sergeant, who went on in a meditative voice—
“No, it don’t so much signify what the woman is like, so long as she’s different to theirs. Not but what I dare be bound as they’d find they’d caught a Tartar in this young lady. She would be queen instead of slave before they’d done with her.”
“This is really too flattering!” said Georgia, her face flushing. “Have you anything more to show us, sergeant?”
“I’m afraid as that’s all, ma’am. But don’t you go for to be offended at my plain speaking. I could tell you was a lady of spirit by your going to Kubbet-ul-Haj at all. And, bless you, you can do near everything with these fellows if you talk big a little, and don’t let ’em see as you are shaking in your shoes all the time.”
The old man’s face as he enunciated this doctrine was so comical that Georgia accepted the implied apology, and the affair ended in a laugh.
“It never struck me that we were to wear veils as a protection,” said Georgia to Lady Haigh as they returned to their quarters. “I thought it was only for fear of outraging the people’s feelings.”
“If it had been only that,” returned Lady Haigh, “I should certainly have refused on principle to wear a veil. You know that I have knocked about a good deal, my dear. When Sir Dugald asked me to marry him, he said he felt quite guilty in trying to allure me away from all my friends and my work, and I seized the opportunity of stipulating for the very thing I wanted. I said I shouldn’t mind leaving everything in the slightest if he would only promise to take me with him wherever he went. He did promise, and I have gone everywhere with him—to some very strange places indeed. I have often been where no English lady had ever been seen before; but I have always refused to cover my face. They used to tell me that the people were not accustomed to see a woman unveiled. ‘Well, then, they must become accustomed to it,’ I always said. Then they suggested that it might outrage their religious sentiments; but, as I pointed out, people must learn not to let their feelings be hurt so easily. But this time it was different. When it came to be a case of endangering the safety of the whole Mission, Sir Dugald told me that the choice lay between his breaking his promise and leaving me behind and my wearing a veil. I did not see it at all, because the Kubbet-ul-Haj people ought to accustom themselves to seeing new things, and I really yielded solely on account of you. Dugald”—they had reached their own verandah by this time—“didn’t I tell you that I only consented to wear a veil for Miss Keeling’s sake?”
“I believe you have mentioned the fact more than once, now that I come to think of it,” returned Sir Dugald, looking up from his book.
“But really, Lady Haigh, I am not afraid,” said Georgia. “If you think that the old man was only talking nonsense, I will join you in organising a protest against Ethiopian customs with the greatest pleasure, for I should much prefer not wearing a veil.”
“Oh, but it really is necessary for you, my dear. It is different in my case; I am old, and I never was anything much to look at, and I am indubitably married. But suppose the King should see you, and take it into his head to want to make you his fifteenth wife——”
“As a Mohammedan he is not allowed more than four,” interposed Sir Dugald, mildly.
“Oh, I am sure he doesn’t count the ones he has killed or divorced!” said Lady Haigh. “Well, in any case, Georgie, it would be very awkward. You might refuse to marry him, but he wouldn’t take a refusal. He would simply request Sir Dugald to settle the matter. If he was told that it was the custom in England to allow ladies their choice, he would say that at Kubbet-ul-Haj you must do as the Kubbet-ul-Hajis did. Then, if you still refused, he might do as the old man suggested, and murder us all to get hold of you. So you see that it is really necessary for you to cover your face, and I do it to keep you company.”
“But with the veil, you will, of course, adopt the other dictates of Eastern etiquette,” said Sir Dugald, “which forbid a lady to speak to any man not of her immediate family?”
“That would be dreadfully dull for me,” said Lady Haigh. “What should I do when you were busy?”
“Far worse for me,” cried Georgia. “I protest against such treatment, Sir Dugald! Do you mean to condemn me to perpetual silence? I have no relations of any kind here.”
“Ah, Eastern society makes no provision for the New Woman,” observed Sir Dugald.
Georgia groaned.
“I am so dreadfully tired of that name,” she said. “But I believe, Sir Dugald, that Eastern etiquette would oblige Lady Haigh and me to ride humbly behind with the servants while you gentlemen were cantering gaily in front—wouldn’t it? Is that to be the order of our going?”
“No, I think we must make up our minds to disregard Ethiopian opinion in that respect,” said Sir Dugald. “Don’t be afraid, Miss Keeling, you shall lay aside your veils in the tents and when we get to our own quarters at Kubbet-ul-Haj. It is only in the streets and on the march that you need wear them.”
“And really they are not so very bad,” said Lady Haigh, shaking out a heap of white drapery. “When I knew we must make up our minds to such garments I determined that they should be as little trouble as possible, so I got theseburkasmade. I remembered seeing the women wearing them in the Panjab long ago. You see, theburkais simply put on over everything, and covers you from head to foot without an opening—merely that embroidered lattice-work for the eyes. It gives you no trouble; whereas theisar, which the Baghdadi women wear, and which poor Cecil Egerton was obliged to adopt when she was governess at the Palace, is nothing but a sheet pure and simple. You have to hold it together in front with one hand and over your face with the other. No matter how bad the weather may be, you can never spare a hand to hold up your dress or your sheet drops; you must just trail through the mud. I could not stand that.”
Georgia acknowledged thankfully the wisdom of Lady Haigh’s remarks, and when the day arrived on which the actual journey to Kubbet-ul-Haj was to begin, she put on theburkawithout a murmur. The start was an imposing sight, for most of the officers in the fort accompanied the Mission as far as the Ethiopian frontier, and the rest of the garrison lined the walls and sped the parting guests with a rousing cheer. The servants and baggage had started earlier in the day, and when they had been caught up a halt was made for lunch, after which the travellers delivered themselves into the hands of the body of Ethiopian troops who had been sent to meet them on the frontier and escort them to the capital, and the British officers returned to Fort Rahmat-Ullah. Dick North came riding up just in time to fall into his place in the cavalcade, and the long array of riders and baggage-animals took their way across the frontier.
The cavalry escort, of which one portion headed the procession, while the remainder brought up the rear, was not calculated, so far as its outward aspect was concerned, to allay any apprehensions that might have been fluttering the breasts of the timid. Its members were wild, reckless-looking fellows, evidently ready to go anywhere and do anything, but apparently quite as well qualified to rob their convoy as to protect it. Uniformity of dress or accoutrements among them there was none; but they resembled one another in that they were all fierce of face, all unbridled of speech, all extremely dirty, and all armed to the teeth with a wonderfully miscellaneous collection of weapons. It seemed almost madness to take ladies into the heart of a country which, until very lately, had been actively hostile, under the guardianship of such men as these, and the younger members of the Mission felt their hearts sink suddenly with an unwonted feeling of apprehension as they took their last look at the fort—that isolated outpost of Britain and civilisation on the borders of barbarism. But Sir Dugald’s impassive face betrayed no emotion whatever as he halted beside the track to allow the caravan to file past him, and the younger men took comfort as they remembered that their leader was one who, although he had not hitherto had the opportunity of distinguishing himself in a wide field, was reputed never to have made a mistake in the many minor but still important duties with which he had been intrusted.
Nor had Sir Dugald himself started for Kubbet-ul-Haj with a heart so light as to induce him to neglect any precaution that lay in his power. When it had once been ascertained that the passage of an escort of British, or even of Indian, troops through Ethiopian territory was out of the question, Sir Dugald agreed at once to intrust the safety of the Mission to the King’s own soldiers. But he bestowed special care on the selection of the servants who were to accompany the expedition, down to the very camel-men, choosing, so far as was possible, old soldiers, and these from the frontier, where there was always a hearty feeling of dislike simmering against the Ethiopians. These men might be relied upon to hold together in the strange country, and to show a bold front in case of necessity; and they also despised the Ethiopians far too much to associate with them, which lessened the likelihood both of quarrels and plots. With the exception of the wives of a few of these men, there were only two women among the servants—Lady Haigh’s elderly Syrian attendant Marta, and Georgia’s maid. This was a Khemistani girl named Rahah, a waif from the frontier who had found her way in some mysterious manner to Bab-us-Sahel, and after being handed over to the missionary ladies to be taken care of, had been trained by Miss Guest—who suffered much in the process—as a lady’s-maid. Her name was supposed by the learned to mean “rest,” but her character was not in accordance with it, for there was no rest for any human being that had anything to do with Rahah. Her chief recommendations for the post she now held were her undeniable cleverness with her fingers and some knowledge of the Ethiopian language, which might prove useful to her mistress in communicating with female patients, while she had already learnt, during the past few weeks, to render considerable assistance to Georgia as anæsthetist and dresser.
The caravan which was composed of such incongruous elements found its journey more peaceful than might have been anticipated. The members of the escort, although somewhat addicted to the snapping up of unconsidered trifles, were capable of frightening away any other robbers, and on the march were content to keep at a respectful distance from their charges. In this foreign country there could be none of those digressions from the track which had proved so pleasant in Khemistan, but the members of the Mission were not altogether without subjects of interest to occupy them. Georgia and Dr Headlam were making a collection of all the birds, plants, and insects they met with, for in this respect Ethiopia was new ground. Sir Dugald was ruthless in his refusal to allow more than one collection to be carried with the expedition, and the rival collectors were thus deprived of the stimulus of competition. The only thing to be done was to allow the first finder of a new species to monopolise the glory of its possession until a finer specimen was discovered, and in this finding Dr Headlam complained that Georgia had an unfair advantage, since Fitz was always at her service and eager to help her. But in spite of little squabbles of this kind everything went pleasantly, chiefly owing, Fitz said, to the fact that North was generally so busily occupied with his duties of noting the configuration of the country and the windings of the track, with a view to map-making, that he had no time to ride with the others and enter into conversation. Since his return to the rest of the party he had scarcely spoken to Georgia, and she told herself that it was better so.
This was the state of affairs when the march came to an end; and the Mission, amid the thunder of very rickety cannon, the shouting of the populace, and the shrill welcoming cries of the women, entered the city of Kubbet-ul-Haj.
“The King of all Kings, the Upholder of the Universe, places this hovel at the disposal of his high eminence the Queen of England’s Envoy, and entreats that he will deign to use it as his own,” said the sleek official who had been deputed to meet the travellers and bring them into the town, as he paused opposite the doorway of a large house and indicated with extended hand that the end of the journey had been reached.
“In other words, this imposing building is to be our residence for the present,” said Sir Dugald, riding into the courtyard and turning round. “Allow me to welcome you to Kubbet-ul-Haj, ladies.”
“It is not as good as Baghdad,” said Lady Haigh, looking round disparagingly on the whitewashed walls; “but I daresay we shall be very comfortable. After all, it won’t be for long.”
“Express my thanks to the King,” said Sir Dugald pointedly to the messenger, “and tell him that the pleasantness of our quarters will make us anxious to prolong our stay in his city.”
The official, well-pleased, stayed only to point out the entrance to the second courtyard of which the house boasted, and to intimate that if the accommodation provided should prove to be too limited, another house could easily be secured, and then took his departure; while the new arrivals passed under an archway into the inner court, to find facing them the chief rooms of the establishment. These were evidently intended as Sir Dugald’s quarters, and Lady Haigh surveyed them with high approval.
“Come!” she said. “We shall not be so badly off after all. I was beginning to be afraid we should be as much crowded as you were at Agra in the Mutiny, Dugald. I think the rooms on that side will do nicely for you, Georgie.”
“I don’t know whether you will all be able to find quarters in the first block of buildings, gentlemen,” said Sir Dugald to his staff when he had helped his wife and Georgia to dismount, and they had gone indoors to explore. “I must have Mr Kustendjian there, for he may be wanted at any moment, and I doubt whether that will leave you rooms enough.”
“If any one has to seek quarters outside, I hope I may be the favoured man,” said Dr Headlam. “Judging by the sights I saw as we came through the streets, and the cries for medicine which were addressed to me, there is an enormous amount of disease here, and I shall have my hands pretty full if I begin to try any outside practice. I think I am justified in believing that you would approve of such a course, Sir Dugald? It could only make the Mission more popular.”
“By all means, if you wish it; but don’t wear yourself out with doctoring all Kubbet-ul-Haj, and forget that you came here as surgeon to the Mission. You think you will do better if you are lodged outside?”
“Well, I didn’t quite like the idea of bringing all the filth and rascality of Kubbet-ul-Haj into the Mission headquarters, but that would remove the objection. I think it would be both safer and more agreeable for all of us if you would allow me to camp in some other house.”
“Then perhaps you could take that collection of yours over to your new quarters as well as your other belongings? It is not altogether the most delightful of objects.”
“Either as to sight or smell,” put in Dick North. “Those beasts you have preserved in spirits are enough to give a man the horrors, doctor.”
“Oh, our much-maligned masterpieces shall share my quarters, by all means,” said the doctor. “If Miss Keeling breaks her heart over parting with the collection, don’t blame me.”
“Miss Keeling will probably bear the loss with equanimity,” said Sir Dugald. “Natural history collections are not exactly ladies’ toys. At any rate, if she is uneasy about the state of her pet specimens you can bring her bulletins respecting them at meal-times. We shall see you as usual at tiffin and at dinner, I suppose, doctor? And you know that Lady Haigh is always glad to welcome you at tea.”
“I shall certainly not decline such an invitation in favour of solitary meals hastily partaken of amongst the specimens,” said Dr Headlam.
“Then we may consider that settled,” said Sir Dugald. “I think we may regard ourselves as fairly fortunate in our quarters here. What is your opinion, Stratford?”
“I think the place is very well adapted for our business, certainly,” returned Stratford. “The general public will only be admitted to the outer court, I suppose?”
“Yes; the large room on the ground-floor of your quarters will serve as our durbar-hall,” said Sir Dugald, “and the attendants of the Ethiopian officials can remain on the verandah. This inner court must be sacred to the ladies, so that they may go about unveiled. No Ethiopian can be allowed to cross the threshold without an invitation, and only those must be invited who know something of English usages and will not be shocked by what they see. The raised verandah before the house will no doubt serve as a drawing-room. What do you think of the place, North?”
“Good position for defence,” said Dick, meditatively. “You hold the outer court as long as you can, and then fall back upon the first block of buildings. When that becomes untenable, you blow it up and retire upon the second block.”
“Until you have to blow that up too, and yourself with it, I suppose?” said Sir Dugald. “For the ladies’ sake, I must say I hope we shall not have to put the defensive capabilities of the house to such a severe test. Well, gentlemen, we shall meet at dinner. No doubt you will like to get your things settled a little. Your own servants will be able to find quarters in your block, but the rest must occupy the buildings round the outer court.”
When Sir Dugald had thus declared his will the party separated, the staff proceeding to their quarters in Bachelors’ Buildings, as the first block was unanimously named, and allotting the rooms among themselves on the principle of seniority; while the doctor went house-hunting with the aid of a minor official who had been left in the outer court to give any help or information that might be needed. Under his auspices a much smaller house, only separated from the headquarters of the Mission by a narrow street, was secured, and hither Dr Headlam removed with his servants and the famous collection. When the members of the Mission met at dinner they had shaken down fairly well in their several abodes, and after a little inevitable grumbling over accustomed luxuries which were here unattainable, they displayed a disposition to regard the situation with contentment and the rest of mankind with charity. Sir Dugald noted down certain points on which it would be necessary to appeal for assistance to the urbane gentleman who had instituted the party into their habitation, while Lady Haigh promised help in matters which could be set right by feminine intuition and a needle and thread, and peace reigned at headquarters.
It was not until dinner was over and the members of the Mission were partaking of coffee on the terrace, with the lights of the dining-room behind mingling incongruously with the moonlight around them and outshining the twinkling lamps visible here and there in the loftier habitations outside the walls of the house, that an interruption occurred, and the quiet was broken by the entrance of Chanda Lal, Sir Dugald’s bearer, with a visiting-card, which he handed to his master on a tray.
“What’s this, bearer?” asked Sir Dugald, impatiently.
“Highness, the sahib bade me bring it to you.”
“The sahib? Here? In Kubbet-ul-Haj? Who is he? What is he doing here?” Sir Dugald’s brow was darkening ominously.
“Highness, I know not. I said that theburra sahibreceived no visitors this evening, and the sahib said, ‘Take this to yourburra sahib, and tell him that my name is Heekis, and that I wish to see him.’”
“‘Elkanah B. Hicks. “Empire City Crier,”’” read Sir Dugald from the card in his hand in a tone of stupefaction. “In the name of all that is abominable!” he cried, with lively disgust, “it’s a newspaper correspondent, and an American at that, and here before us!”
“I know the name,” said Stratford. “Hicks was the ‘Crier’ correspondent who made himself so prominent over the Thracian business. He was arrested and conducted to the frontier while the second revolution was going on.”
“The very worst kind of busybody!” said Sir Dugald, wrathfully. “I only wish that Drakovics had shot him when he had him safe. What does he mean by poking himself in here?”
“He is in search of marketable ‘copy,’ without a doubt,” said Stratford, “and he is taking the most direct way to get it. He has a fancy for talking and behaving like a sort of semi-civilised Artemus Ward, which takes in a good many people; but he is considered about the smartest man on the ‘Crier’ staff, and that is saying a good deal.”
“Whatever his fancies may be,” growled Sir Dugald, “I don’t see that they are any excuse for the man’s thrusting himself upon me out of business hours without the ghost of an introduction.”