CHAPTER XIX

“YES--OR NO?”

Two days after the ball, Captain Falkland called at No. 30 and left my fan with a nice little note, and I must admit that I was sincerely sorry to have missed him.

We were now beginning to make a certain amount of preparation for a move; the regiment had been three years in Secunderabad and was due to go to England by the season’s reliefs. Many people were sending round their auction lists, their _dirzees_ were contriving warm clothes suitable for an English winter, horses and traps had been bespoke, and most of the polo ponies were already sold.

“There is no use,” said the colonel (who always gripped time by the forelock), “in leaving everything to the last moment, and we shall probably find ourselves on the high seas some time in February.”

I confess that I could not endure this prospect, although I prudently kept my own counsel. Already I had learnt that it is unpardonable to announce that you are not delighted to go back to England, but would much prefer to remain in India. With respect to this guilty secret Mrs. Lakin and I were of one mind. I should mention that after all I had only enjoyed the best of India, and I loved the country; I had never experienced a hot season, and had only seen the bright side of life--beautiful Silliram, imposing Hyderabad, the dignified noblemen of the Nizam’s Court, and the warm-hearted Anglo-Indian community.

At this time--which was shortly before Christmas--Ronnie was unusually busy. He rarely had a spare hour to ride with me of a morning, or to drive me down to the tennis courts. The colonel was “so beastly fussy,” he said, and there was such a lot to do when a regiment was under orders for home. Ronnie was often late for dinner, as he would gallop down to the club for a game of rackets or billiards--“something to work off orderly room and red tape”--and there he often forgot both time--and me!

One evening I was sitting in the drawing-room, patiently awaiting his return, when I heard someone ride up, and called out: “Oh, Ronnie, I’m afraid your dinner is a cinder!”

As there was no reply I looked over my shoulder and, to my amazement, beheld Captain Falkland standing in the doorway. It was after eight o’clock. What could have brought him? Perhaps he had come to break the news of an accident to my brother--who rode and drove at headlong speed.

“Has anything happened?” I asked, springing to my feet.

“Nothing to anyone that concerns you,” he answered; “only to _me_.”

“I hope it is not serious?” I said, feeling not a little bewildered by this late visit. “Won’t you sit down?”

“I had a cable from home,” he began, and I knew from his voice that he was nervous. “My father has had a paralytic seizure, and I’m off to England to-night. The general has been most awfully kind about it,” he paused for a moment, and then went on: “I need scarcely say that I could not leave the country without saying good-bye to _you_.”

I felt my face glowing, and murmured a civility that was I am afraid unintelligible.

“You remember,” he continued, “that morning at Moul Ali when I declared I would say something to you that I could never tell to another soul. Well, now I am here to say it. I have come to ask if you will be my wife.”

For a moment I felt almost stunned by this unexpected question, and then filled with a sense of exquisite tremulous joy.

“I have always been in love with you, as you may have guessed, and I’ve rushed up here in this abrupt unceremonious fashion to put my fate to the touch before I go home. What is my answer to be--Yes or No?”

“They say you will be a lord some day,” I remarked irrelevantly. “I--I would never do for a countess.”

“I entirely disagree with that; but don’t meet troubles half-way. My cousin is hale and hearty and only sixty-five; I may die before him. I’m afraid I’m rushing you, but I should like to know before I leave that you belonged to me; and yet probably I am a presumptuous idiot, and you may not care a straw about me. I know I’m not the only fellow that is in love with you, and I’ve heard you called the prettiest girl in India.”

I could not restrain a wild hysterical laugh as I exclaimed:

“You are nearly as bad as Mrs. Soames--she compared me to a fairy princess.”

“I’m sure you are a good fairy, who will make allowances and forgive this precipitate descent on you; and now without any more figures of speech--can you give me your answer?”

I looked up at him and met his anxious dark eyes. The “yes” was trembling on my lips when Michael our big butler flung back the curtain or _purdah_ between the drawing-room and dining-room and said:

“The captain sending salaam, dining at club.” Glancing interrogatively at my companion he added: “This gentleman dining with missy?”

“No, no,” protested my late caller, “I have only a few minutes to spare. Shall we go into the veranda?” was his bold suggestion.

I rose without a word and led the way.

“I am taking silence for consent,” he said, and there, in the scented darkness, he drew me into his arms and kissed me.

Sitting hand in hand in the dim light we talked, and how the time flew! A few minutes became half an hour. I was surprisingly silent for me, thrilled with the dawn of first love and the vibrant attraction of my companion’s voice.

“I may return before long,” he said. “All depends on my father; under any circumstances you will be home in February, and then we will be married. Meanwhile, I will leave you in charge of Kipper.”

“Yes, if you like to put it in that way,” I answered gaily. “And about our engagement?”

“It is ‘done finish,’ as they say out here.”

“I would rather it was not given out yet. Time enough when you return or I go home.”

“I see,” he answered; “you think if you were ticketed ‘Engaged,’ you would lose half your fun!”

“No indeed,” I protested indignantly, “but I should hate all the talk; it is not as if you were to be here--that would be different.”

“Yes, very different indeed,” and he gave an audible sigh.

“People might say that it was not true--and--and----”

“You have a humble opinion of the lovely Miss Lingard,” he interrupted with a laugh, “but if you insist I could put up a notice in the club, signed and witnessed; and the general might allow it to be mentioned in orders. I say, Eva, you _are_ a little goose.”

“I wonder what your people will think? I’m sure Aunt Mina won’t give me a good ‘chit,’ and you know I’ve no money.”

“Don’t talk of money,” he protested impatiently, “when every second now is worth gold to me. I shall have you, you will have me, and I feel sure we shall be awfully happy together. We must tell one or two friends here about our engagement; for instance, Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Soames.”

“Yes, I should like to tell Mrs. Soames--I know she will be so pleased--and, of course, Ronnie.”

“I’m not sure that _he_ will be so pleased--somehow your brother and I have never hit it off. I know he is immensely popular and a capital sportsman. I believe he thinks me a prig--which I’m not. I’m a bit older and steadier, that’s all. By the way, darling, do you know that I am fourteen years your senior?”

“As if it mattered!” I retorted with scorn.

“Not now, no doubt, but later--much later--you must promise not to throw my bald head and grey hairs in my face.”

I burst out laughing.

“Captain Falkland--no, I mean Brian--how can you talk such nonsense!”

“I suppose because I’m so happy; if the poor pater were all right I’d not have a wish left! By the way, about Ronnie, you must influence him, my little girl. I hear of high play, racing bets and wild-cat speculations. Try to get hold of the purse strings, and do your level best to cut him loose from that repulsive ruffian Balthasar.”

“I’ll try, but lately Ronnie is so changed; not the least like himself.”

“Then be a good fairy, and turn him into a reformed prince of brothers. I’m giving you one commission--another and more important one is, to take great care of your precious self, my little sweetheart; be happy, write to me by every mail, and think of me every hour.”

“You may be sure I shall do that.”

“I often wondered if you ever cast me a thought after I came to India. Certainly you never answered my letter.”

“I cast you many thoughts,” I admitted, “and often wished that we might meet. As for your letter, this is the first I have heard of it.”

“It won’t be the last! Your aunt shall hear of it, too. It was properly addressed to Miss Eva Lingard, Torrington Park. Well, now, time is up.”

“Must you go?” I pleaded impulsively, laying a detaining hand on his arm. “Oh, we have had such a few minutes’----” I could not control my voice.

“Happiness,” he supplemented. “I must have another inspection before I am off,” and he took my arm and led me back into the full light of our kerosene wall lamps. “I know my mother will love you, Eva, and I want to carry away your picture in my mind, and describe you faithfully. Well, it has to come--our good-bye!”

Brian’s eyes and voice expressed something I had never known before--the deep emotion of a reserved man; and his parting kiss told me all that his lips found it impossible to utter.

Then he summoned his syce and horse, and, without another word or glance, cantered out of the compound. I listened to the ring of hoofs till they grew fainter and fainter, then died away completely in the distance. Rejecting the butler’s sonorous invitation: “Dinner ready on the table!” I retired into my own room in a strange, anomalous condition; rapturously happy yet desperately miserable. Presently I sat down on the side of my bed and enjoyed a thoroughly exhaustive cry.