# Littell's Living Age/Volume 126/Issue 1623/The Dilemma - Part II

Also see the fully published work The Dilemma (1876)
From Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine.
THE DILEMMA.
CHAPTER IV.
Yorke was not the only person fascinated by Miss Cunningham's grace and beauty. On all sides the new arrival was pronounced to be a charming addition to Mustaphabad society, the general chorus of approval being subject perhaps to reservation in the case of the parents of the Misses Glumme and Peart, who must have felt that those young ladies were now displaced from the position of reigning belles which they had occupied since their arrival at Mustaphabad the previous cold season. Entertainments were set on foot in all directions in honour of the occasion, heralded by a ball given by the hussars, when the new Calcutta mat laid down in their spacious mess-room, and which those gallant officers had ordered specially for the fête, was pronounced on all sides to be even better with the pavement underneath, for dancing upon, than a wooden floor. Not so elastic, perhaps, but so slippery and even. Previous to that occasion our ardent young subaltern had been vouchsafed merely a few glimpses of the lady who now filled all his thoughts. Once, when he passed her driving again on the course with her father; but, alas! there was no band that evening, and the carriage did not stop. Then, one morning while the 76th were out at drill, and the old major was blundering away worse than ever, till all the officers were visibly out of temper, the adjutant offering his advice, without any pretence of concealment, for releasing the regiment out of its clubbed state, and even the stolid sepoys were laughing, Yorke — looking from his vantage-ground at the head of the light company across the plain which extended along the front of the station, and which served as parade-ground for the different regiments in garrison — saw some figures on horseback emerging from the cloud of dust which marked the spot where the dragoons were exercising — figures which, as they came nearer, he made out to be the commissioner and his daughter, accompanied by Captain Sparrow and the brigadier on his grey pony. They had evidently been watching the cavalry, and were now coming to look at the infantry. A sense of shame at the ridiculous figure the regiment presented almost overcame the rising at his heart as the fair vision approached them. Still, a lady would hardly detect the little faults of manœuvring so obvious to the military eye; the men, at any rate, marched well, for the major had not been long enough in command to diminish their efficiency in this respect, and a finer-looking set was not to be seen in the army. Miss Cunningham had expressed a wish to see a sepoy regiment on parade; the party was evidently coming this way at her suggestion. But no! just as they reached the point where the road to the city intersects the plain at right angles to the parade-grounds, and were near enough for Yorke to mark that she was riding a handsome chestnut Arab, and that she looked, if possible, even more graceful in her riding-habit than in ordinary costume, the party stopped, and after exchanging salutations separated, the brigadier alone continuing his course in the direction of the regiment, while the others cantered off towards the city, a slight cloud of dusk tracking their steps.
At sight of the approaching brigadier, evidently bent on criticism, for battalion drill was a strong point with him, Major Dumble hastily dismissed the regiment; and while the other officers adjourned to the mess-house, Yorke returned to his bungalow to chew the cud of disappointment.
The next time he saw the fair vision of his waking dreams, she was again driving with her father on the course, who this time occupied the back-seat with Dr. Mackenzie Maxwell, the civil surgeon, — a stranger sitting beside the young lady, a middle-aged, soldierlike man, in plain clothes, wearing a helmet of felt with a white turban round it, and who Yorke thought must be a traveller, such a sun-protecting head-dress not being commonly worn of an evening. Yorke, who did not venture to approach the carriage on this occasion when it stopped near the band, asked Buxey, the station paymaster, sitting alone in his buggy, who the visitor might be. "Be?" replied Buxey; "why, Falkland, of course," as if the question was a superfluous one; and, indeed, as soon as Yorke heard the name, he knew who the stranger was; for Colonel Falkland was famous both in war and peace, distinguished for gallantry and skill in various campaigns, and holding high office in that part of India, being at present commissioner of the territory adjacent to Mustaphabad. "Is Miss Cunningham's godfather, you know," continued Buxey. "She was born in '36, at Benares; Cunningham was assistant magistrate there, ​and Falkland and I were stationed there with our regiments, ensigns both of us. Mackenzie Maxwell was there too; he had just joined the —th on first coming out, as assistant surgeon. Falkland and Cunningham were great friends even then; and when Mrs. Cunningham died — she was a famous beauty, poor thing, and died in the first year after her marriage — Falkland used to spend the best part of his time at Cunningham's house, looking after the baby, while its father was at cutchery: hundreds and hundreds of times I suppose he has dandled her on his knee. Then my regiment moved to Dinapore, and he got appointed to the staff in Afghanistan — his first piece of luck that was, for a lot of the fellows in his regiment were killed; and Cunningham sent the child home in charge of Mrs. Spangle, the collector's wife at Benares: Spangle was a very crack collector, and would have risen very high in the service if he hadn't died of liver. And now we are all met again after nearly twenty years, all except Spangle; I knew Falkland would not be long in coming over to see his god-daughter after she arrived. There he is, a brevet-colonel of three years' standing, and me still a captain, although nine and a half months senior to him in the service. See what it is to have luck. I don't grudge Falkland his brevets, you know; he has deserved them if ever a man did: but if our regiment had gone to Cabul, and his had gone down to Dinapore, things might have been very different."
As Yorke looked at Falkland's spare figure and erect carriage, and then at Captain Buxey's portly frame almost filling up the buggy, as he sat with pursed-up lips, small round eyes, and splay feet encased in easy shoes, he could not help thinking that perchance something of the differences in their careers might be due to the individual as well as to luck; but his sense of politeness restrained him from saying so.
Then came the hussar-ball. The invitations, of course, included one for Major Dumble and officers of the 76th N. I., and Yorke could not resist the temptation to take the advantage of it, although it was almost the first time since the regiment had been stationed at Mustaphabad that he had presented himself at an entertainment of the kind; for he fancied that the hussars and people generally were disposed to look down on the native infantry. The ball was one of exceptional brilliancy; for, besides that sundry travellers who were passing through the place had stopped to partake of the festivities, it happened that the camp of an exalted official was pitched there at the time, and the great person honoured the occasion by his presence, accompanied by a brilliant staff. Yorke, though impatient to be there, came late, and the room was quite full when he arrived. In truth, a brilliant spectacle — nearly forty ladies, and perhaps a hundred and fifty gentlemen, almost all officers in uniform; so large an assembly had never before been witnessed in Mustaphabad. But for our subaltern there was only one lady in the room, sitting, as he entered, on an ottoman at the far end. A dance was in progress, in which all the younger men who could get partners were engaged, and only two cavaliers were in immediate attendance on Miss Cunningham, — Captain Buxey on one side, whose stout figure, cased in a tight coatee, appeared in conspicuous profile as he stooped to talk to the lady; Colonel Tartar on the other. Yorke envied the paymaster his ease and self-possession, although, to be sure, he was old enough to be her father; but they were as nothing to the coolness of Colonel Tartar, who was lolling on the couch, resting on his left elbow, and nursing a leg with his right hand, so that Miss Cunningham had to turn half round and look quite down to speak to him. "Confound his impudence!" thought Yorke; "it is all very well to give himself airs with ordinary ladies, but has the man no sense of propriety to behave like this before such a goddess even in his own ball-room?"
Presently the colonel got up and walked away in a careless manner, and in a sudden fit of boldness Yorke approached the vacant spot.
Miss Cunningham gave him a gracious bow of recognition.
Yorke asked if he might venture to hope for the honour of dancing with her.
"I am really very sorry," she said, with a winning smile, "but I am afraid I am engaged for everything." She spoke as if she really were sorry for his disappointment, and held out her card for him to look at. "Again how different from most of our young ladies!" he thought. "Miss Peart, now, would have given a flippant toss to her silly little head, and laughed as if it were great fun to be able to refuse an invitation, and snub a fellow." Then he said aloud, looking at the card, "There are no names down ​twelfth dance; may I venture to hope ——"
"I am sorry she said again, in her low rich voice, "but we are not going to stay after that; papa is not very well tonight, and so we are going away early."
Just then Captain Buxey walked off to speak to one of the great official's staff, and Yorke was left standing alone by her.
"Won't you sit down?" said the lady, with a slight wave of her hand towards the place on her right left vacant by Colonel Tartar.
The young fellow did as he was bid, fancying that all eyes were turned towards him. Every nerve in his body seemed to be in action; it was as if he could hear his heart beat. His boot just touched the edge of her dress as it rested on the ground. It seemed like desecration, yet he dared not move.
Whether it was to relieve him from the embarrassment she noticed, or because she was wholly unconscious of it, she made a beginning of the conversation.
"What a very interesting sight this is, the variety of uniforms makes the scene so brilliant! I have never been to a military ball before, you know. In England one only knows military men by their titles; you scarcely ever see them in uniform."
"I thought you had lived mostly abroad?"
"Yes, so I have; but in France one does not meet with officers much in society. A great many of them, I believe, have risen from the ranks, and they seem rough in their manners. The Austrian officers we used to see in Italy appeared to be gentleman-like; but my aunt's friends were chiefly among the Italians, and they, you know, don't mix at all with the Austrians. I never was in any military society till now."
Yorke worked himself up into a state of frenzy to find something clever to say in reply, but no epigrammatic generalization which would cover the French and Austrian armies or Italian politics came uppermost, and Miss Cunningham went on. "I suppose all the officers dressed like Colonel Tartar belong to his regiment?"
"Yes," said Yorke, who had now found words, "and a very handsome uniform it is."
"And those other officers in blue with the embroidered jackets, are they hussars also?"
"No, those are the horse-artillery, and those in the plain blue coats are the foot-artillery. They are all one regiment, you know, but officers are picked out to serve with the troops of horse-artillery, which is quite the crack branch of the service," he added; for our subaltern, although sensitive about the inferiority of his own position, had no small feeling of jealousy prompting him to disparage the others.
"And those in scarlet with embroidered coats?" continued the young lady. "Oh! those are the headquarter swells — I mean," he stammered, "the headquarter staff. Lucky fellows, they get tremendous salaries, march about all the cold season, and go up to the hills in the hot."
"And who is that officer like a Circassian noble? Is that a fancy dress?"
"Oh no, that is Mr. Chupkin of the irregulars. Well, it is a fancy dress so far, that they wear pretty much what they fancy in the irregular cavalry; but that is their regular uniform, at least for a ball-room: they dress like the men on parade and without all that gold embroidery. Ah! that is the service," he continued with enthusiasm; "I would almost rather get into the irregular cavalry than even into the quartermaster-general's department. Excuse my talking shop in this way," he added, apologetically, observing that the fair listener looked puzzled; "but everybody here is so accustomed to the ins and outs of the service, that one forgets you would not take an interest in it."
"But I do take an interest in it," replied the young lady, looking at him with a frank smile." I want to learn all about these things. But you speak of leaving your own branch of the service. Surely you are proud of commanding those fine-looking sepoys, they look so soldierlike and manly mounting sentry at our house; and papa tells me that yours is a very fine regiment; I suppose that is a reason why your dress is different from that of the other infantry officers."
Yorke blushed as the fair speaker glanced at the wings which he wore instead of epaulets. Could she be wishing to please and flatter? and yet her manner was as if she were ten years older than himself.
He muttered something about his being attached to a flank company, although he was commanding another, and about the 76th being considered a crack corps, yet the next moment was angry with ​himself for the indiscretion. What a vain simple creature she must think him! With her penetration she must have found out by this time in what small account a native-infantry officer was held, and must be laughing at his simple talk about a crack corps.
"There seems such a reality about the soldier's life here," continued the young lady; "one feels quite as if living in a camp. All the officers seem to have medals," — then noticing that there was no decoration on her companion's breast, she added quickly, "at least those who have not are sure, I suppose, to have opportunities for distinction sooner or later? "
"Oh no, there is no chance of any such luck," replied the youngster, bitterly; "there are no enemies left to fight now. No, Miss Cunningham, I am afraid we subs have joined too late for any honour and glory. The only thing left for a fellow nowadays, if he cannot get into the irregular cavalry or the quartermaster-general's department, is civil employ, or even the public works; anything is better than regimental duty."
"Leave the army? " asked Miss Cunningham, turning round and looking at him full in the face; when something in his earnest glance made her turn her eyes away again. Then she added in a lower voice, and looking straight before her, "The army is such a noble profession!"
Yorke felt ready to register a vow that he would stick to the regiment come what might, but he bethought him to rejoin —
"Look at Colonel Falkland, he is in civil employ, and yet there is not a finer soldier in the army."
"What is that about Colonel Falkland?" said a musical voice, while at the same time a hand was laid on his shoulder, and looking up he saw that the speaker was Colonel Falkland himself.
"I was reproaching Mr. Yorke for want of military spirit, because he talked of leaving the army," said Miss Cunningham, archly, "and he cited you as a precedent; but you have not left the army, surely?"
"Our young friend's aspirations are very natural," said the colonel, smiling kindly; "we military civilians get all the loaves and fishes in peace-time, and then when campaigning is going on we fall back into our old places, and are very much in the way of our brother officers, I am afraid, who have been doing all the dull work in peace-time."
"No, I didn't mean that, sir," broke in the youngster; "but Miss Cunningham misunderstood me: I wouldn't leave the army for the world; but I was just going to explain how you were in civil employ and yet had served in all the campaigns too, and had got your brevet for the Sutlej, and another step and a C.B. for —"
"Just what I was saying," replied the colonel, laughing; "only you put it in a more generous way. We lucky fellows come in for all the good things on both sides; but your turn will come too, I don't doubt. Every man gets his chance in India if he is only ready for it. But here is another lucky person, Olivia, for he is coming to claim you for a dance." Then, as an officer of the staff led Miss Cunningham away to a quadrille. Colonel Falkland fell to questioning our subaltern about himself — asked him if he had passed in the language, and whether there was the full number of absentee officers in his regiment, or if there were still room for one of those now with it to obtain an appointment.
Yorke explained that there was already the full number of seven absentees, besides those on furlough; and, led away by the colonel's sympathetic interest in his affairs, he went on to say that he had passed in Hindustani, and was hard at work studying military science, so as to be ready for anything that might turn up. "But then you see, sir," he added, "there isn't much chance of an opening, for Braddon is sure to have the first vacancy. They can't keep a man like him on regimental duty forever; it's over two years since he was sent back to the regiment."
"Braddon?" said the colonel. "So he belongs to your regiment? Of course, I ought to have remembered that he did. Is he here to-night? I don't recognize his face."
"Oh no, he never shows in public unless he's obliged. You can't expect a man to go about much under such circumstances."
"Tell me," asked the colonel, after a pause — "I don't want to force confidence, but I should be very glad to know if he is going on steadily."
"No fear about him, sir," replied Yorke, stoutly. "And he will come to the front again one of these days, you will see. There is not a finer officer of ​his standing in the army, unless it be Captain Kirke, and I should feel it a regular shame if I got an appointment before him; although, of course, I am on the look-out too — it's only natural, you know, sir."
Colonel Falkland admitted that it was quite natural, and added, heartily, that he hoped his energy would find some fit scope; and as he moved off, Yorke understood the cause of the colonel's popularity, and the respect and admiration felt by all who served with him. He had come under the influence of the charm of his clear, kindly eye, his sweet voice, his courteous yet sincere manner, the sympathy which turned the conversation to the concerns of his companion, the modesty and unselfishness which diverted it from himself. Falkland walked with a slight limp, the effect of a wound received at Sobraon, and wore plain clothes, not well-fitting — the only person, besides the commissioner and the station-chaplain, so dressed. And he could scarcely be called handsome; yet Yorke thought him the most distinguished-looking man in the room, not excepting the very distinguished personage who was present.
But not even Colonel Falkland could distract his attention long from the one object which had brought him to the ball. Miss Cunningham was now dancing with Colonel Tartar, who danced well, but was not quite so tall as his partner. "Most women," thought Yorke as he watched her, "would look awkward in such case; but she can't help looking like a princess. She doesn't dance as if it were a tremendous joke, or as if she were performing a condescension, but as if it were a duty, and yet a pleasant one, to please her partner; and how well she keeps him on his good behaviour, and yet without absolutely snubbing him. Miss Glumme now, or Miss Peart, would be so pleased at being asked to dance by Tartar, that they would allow him to be as impudent as he pleased. Miss Glumme wouldn't understand it, and Miss Peart would enjoy it. But what am I, a poor subaltern of native infantry — with these confounded wings too, which make a fellow look ridiculous — to think of ever winning such a peerless creature as that! I daresay she looks on me as a mere boy, and yet I must be a good five years older, for according to Buxey she is only twenty-one. After all, I may get my company in a few years, and then with a war and a brevet-majority perhaps, her father would not object. But how can I expect her to remain unwon all the time, and have I made even a single step in advance? What a simpleton I must have seemed this evening, with my jargon about the quartermaster-general's department, and holding two companies! Why couldn't I talk like a man of the world, such as she must have been accustomed to meet with at home?"
Thus mused the young man, moodily gazing towards her, as she danced with one partner after another, watching her movements from a corner so fixedly that if the rest of the company had not been engaged in their own concerns, his pre-occupation would have been noticed. Once indeed her eyes met his, as she stopped with her partner in the course of a waltz just opposite to where he was standing, and she gave him a glance of acknowledgment which set the young man's heart bounding. Again Yorke established himself nearly opposite the rout-seat on which she was resting between the dances, in the archway which divided the long room; and this time, when she looked up towards him, her face flushed and took a sudden expression of surprise and anxiety, which caused him to drop his eyes and move away, reproaching himself for his too pointed attention, and yet inwardly rejoicing at what he had observed. Surely, he thought, she has learnt my secret; and if I have been too bold and too quick, still she has not treated it with scorn, as she might have done. Something at least has been gained already in my suit. Had Yorke, however, turned round and looked behind him, he would have understood that something other than his ardent glances caused the distress which the lady exhibited.
Shortly after this, Miss Cunningham was led into the supper-tent by Major Winge of the hussars, — a married man with a large family, thought Yorke with a sigh of relief; and then, just as he was summoning up strength of mind to follow the more distinguished guests there, the young lady emerged again there from with her father and Colonel Falkland, and stepping into their carriage, the party drove off.
Yorke passed into the tent, where, among other persons, was Mrs. Polwheedle under escort of the eminent personage, who stood by the supper-table while she partook liberally of trifle and champagne; but not even her evident gratification at this distinguished position could ​conceal a certain sense of uneasiness. "Yes, your Excellency," she observed between the mouthfuls, "a very sweet girl indeed; but I never saw such a thing done before. The brigadier always gives the pas to the commissioner, of course, for he is a civilian of twenty-eight years' standing, and so takes rank over a colonel of '51; although I really think that by rights a brigadier commanding a first-class district, and reporting direct to headquarters, ought to be considered as good as a major-general. I hope your Excellency will forgive my boldness in saying so; but if the commissioner were as old as Methuselah it would not make his daughter take rank before any married lady whatever, let alone a brigadier's lady. And your Excellency knows, — who better indeed? — that it is a rule for parties not to break up till the senior lady present takes her departure. It is really taking a great deal upon herself for a young girl like that to go off in that way from the very tent-door, in front of everybody, almost, as you may say, before supper is half over."
His Excellency observed gravely that it certainly was a sad breach of decorum, but that the young lady was probably ignorant of the rules in such cases, and that her father was understood to be unwell, and indeed looked hardly fit for late hours.
"Oh, of course, your Excellency," replied the lady, "it was not done on purpose; she has not been much in society, I daresay, poor dear girl — has lived chiefly abroad, where you meet very queer people, I believe; still the commissioner might have told her to say a word before going, just to explain matters, you know. And as for being too ill to stay, I am sure when we were stationed at Dinapore, and the brigadier was only commanding his regiment, the civilians at Patna used to give most elegant entertainments, and many's the time I have stayed till I was ready to drop, waiting till the general's lady should go first, for I always respected other people's position; and although people say I look so strong, I can assure your Excellency I am often exceedingly delicate, especially being so subject to a rush of blood to the head. If others can put up with illness, so might some people, I think. I have never seen such a thing before since the brigadier has commanded the station, never."
"But it was papa who was unwell, not the young lady," observed her partner, with a solemn countenance; "however, no doubt, as you rightly observe, it was a shocking solecism; but perhaps a hint from you on the subject would prevent its happening again. Your advice in matters of etiquette and good taste would be quite invaluable to young persons entering on life here. I suppose it would be no good asking you to take anything more? Shall we make way for the hungry folks behind us?" and so saying, his Excellency, offering his arm, escorted the lady now radiant with smiles back to the dancing-room.
"Seen his Excellency doing the polite to Mrs. Polwheedle?" said Jerry Spragge to a brother sub, as he helped himself to a glass of champagne.
"I should rather think so," replied the other, following the example; "best thing out by a long way."
"Did you see Kirke here just now?" said one officer of a native infantry regiment to another, later in the evening, as they stood together in the doorway, watching the dancers.
"Yes," said the other. " I thought it had been settled he was to go back to his regiment; but I suppose that must have been a mistake, or he would not have been here in the uniform of his irregulars."
"Oh no; he has been sent back to regimental duty beyond a doubt, and has had a close shave of a court-martial — the order will be in the next Gazette. I had it from one of the headquarter people."
"Well, it was a cool thing to come here at all under the circumstances, still more to come in the uniform of a corps he has been dismissed from, and with his Excellency in the room, too. I shouldn't be surprised if Tartar and the hussars were to take the thing up."
"He was only here for a minute or two. I saw the commissioner talking to him, apparently in remonstrance, and he went away immediately afterwards. He is a cousin of the commissioner, you know."
"Well, I am sorry for him," said the last speaker; "although I believe there is little doubt any other man might have been turned out of the service for what he did. It is a pity so fine a soldier can't keep his hands clean."
"A pity indeed. Do you remember the day he pulled our regiment out of that mess?"
"Do I not? By Jove! if he hadn't charged into that mass of Sikhs at the ​critical moment, and given us time to form up again, we should have come to grief, and no mistake."
"You may say so, indeed. Our fellows were uncommon shaky just at that moment — all abroad, in fact. I shall never forget Kirke's look as he rode past us, waving that long sword of his, and his eye flashing fire; he looked the very model of a cavalry leader. He had only one squadron with him, and the Sikhs he went at must have been five or six hundred if there was a man. If Victoria Crosses had been going in those days, Kirke ought to have had one for that charge."
"There was another man in the room just now who ought to have had a Victoria Cross, if these things went by merit."
"You mean Falkland?"
"Yes. You were not at Ferozeshah? Ah, my boy, there were wigs on the green that day, and no mistake, and pale faces too! It was just touch and go at one time, I can tell you. Falkland was worth a dozen men to the chief and Lord Hardinge on that day."
"It is strange that these men who promise so well cannot keep straight. There is Braddon, now, as fine a soldier in his line as Kirke, and he, too, must needs get into trouble, although in a different way."
"Yes, and his case will be more difficult to set right. When a man takes to shaking his elbow, there is seldom much chance of a cure. 'Tis a sad pity."
Kirke's appearance at the ball, which the two officers had been discussing, happened in this wise. While Yorke was standing in the archway, as above described, looking at the one object which engaged his attention, an officer had just entered the room behind him — a handsome, well-built, dark-complexioned man, somewhat above middle height, with a hard, resolute, but good-natured face, smooth-shaven save for a large black moustache, with clear cold grey eyes, dressed in a blue tunic with heavy gold embroidery, a scarlet shawl round his waist, and a long straight sword suspended from a shoulder-belt. He, too, was looking towards Miss Cunningham, and it was at sight of him that she betrayed the confusion which Yorke too credulously ascribed to his own love-stricken gaze. Had he looked round, he would have seen Mr. Cunningham step forward from the side of the room where he was in conversation with the military secretary, and address the new-comer apparently in terms of remonstrance, the young lady the while looking down in confusion, studying the point of her little foot as it peeped out from below her dress, as if not daring to watch, yet absorbed in what passed; and that eventually her father fell back into his former place, while Kirke, after occupying his ground some little time, disappeared from the room.
As for Yorke, he went home, soon after the commissioner's party left, in a state of rapture qualified by occasional misgivings, treasuring up each word that had been spoken, each look that had been exchanged.
And at this ball there have been marshalled together for the first time before our gentle Olivia the three men whose destinies are inextricably bound up with her own.
CHAPTER V.
The visit of the distinguished personage to Mustaphabad was of course made the occasion for holding a grand review of all the troops at the station, which took place at seven o'clock the next morning but one after the ball. According to usual practice at such exhibitions, the brigade was organized for the purpose as a complete division of all arms. Colonel Tartar assumed command of the cavalry and horse-artillery, his own regiment being taken charge of for the day by Major Winge; similarly Brevet-Major Gurney of the horse-artillery, in the absence of any regimental field-officer, took charge of the whole arm, so that his troop fell to be commanded by Lieutenant Cubitt, who rode past proudly at the head of it. The four battalions of infantry were divided into two brigades under the senior field-officers, giving temporary steps of promotion of the same sort; while the number of acting appointments made, of brigade-majors, aides-de-camp, and orderly officers, covered the ground with a motley staff in every variety of uniform, and mounted on every description of steed, from high-caste Arab to Deccanee pony, and left hardly any officers for regimental duty. None of these good things, however, fell to the lot of our subaltern, who was fain to be content with his place at the head of the light company.
The force was drawn up in the first instance in line of battalions in column, with the horse-artillery and cavalry on the right, and the field-battery on the left; and as the 76th move down from ​their regimental parade to take up their appointed place, Yorke scans the miscellaneous company of equestrians and occupants of carriages assembled by the saluting-flag, looking in vain for the one object which makes the review, and life generally, interesting to him. "Here she comes at last," he said to himself, with a flutter at his heart, as he descried three riders cantering across the plain from the direction of the city. Even at this distance he can distinguish them — the commissioner and Colonel Falkland, each riding a big horse, and Miss Cunningham on her little high-bred chestnut Arab between them. But now the 76th wheel into their place; and our subaltern in the hindmost company finds his view for the present limited by the backs of the rear-rank of number eight.
Presently there is a stir, and the line is called to attention, the word of command being repeated by acting brigadiers, and again by commanders of battalions. It is evident that the eminent personage and his staff are coming on the ground; but Yorke can see nothing. Then the word is given to present arms, while the bands strike up, very improperly, the national anthem. Then there is a tedious pause for all in the rear: the eminent personage, accompanied by the brigadier and staff, is riding down the line from right to left. There is perfect silence through the ranks, broken only by the occasional move of a battery-horse shaking its harness. Peeping to his left, Yorke gets a momentary glimpse of the different cavaliers as they pass along the field of view of the little lane between his regiment, which is on the left of the infantry, and the adjacent field-battery. First, various staff-officers, singly or in couples; then the eminent personage on a big English horse, the brigadier on his Cabulee cob ambling by his side, and looking up in conversation; then a motley group of other staff-officers, including the happy holders of acting appointments for the day. Among these are three or four ladies, one of whom Yorke recognizes in his momentary view as plainly as if he had been looking for an hour. Miss Cunningham riding between two men in plain clothes, one in a round hat, the other strong and erect, wearing a sun-helmet. And now the cavalcade having reached the end of the line, turns round the flank of the field-battery, and begins to return by the rear, the eminent personage as he rides along at a foot-pace regarding intently the backs of the men as if the spectacle afforded him the deepest interest. Our subaltern of course can see nothing, for he must needs look straight to his front; but soon the sound of voices and subdued laughter announces that the tail of the equestrian party is passing behind him, and he feels the hardness of the fate which keeps him a mere dust-crusher, while so many other fellows are enjoying themselves on horseback; still more at not knowing whether Miss Cunningham even so much as saw him. Just at this moment two artillery-horses, tired of standing at attention, took to fighting and kicking, and the challenge being taken up by several others, a sensible commotion was caused in the cavalcade; and, hearing a little feminine scream, Yorke could not resist looking round. The cry had proceeded from Miss Peart, whose country-bred pony, with the combative habits of its race, had replied to the challenge by kicking out at the beast next to it, which happily being that of Mr. Lunge, the riding-master of the hussars, a gaunt and lofty animal, had kept its rider's legs beyond range of the pony's heels; but the commotion had set Miss Cunningham's lively chestnut Arab a-prancing, and Yorke had just time to notice the grace with which it's rider kept her seat.
And now begins the serious business of the day. First, the horse-artillery and cavalry canter to the front, and the former open a hot fire on an imaginary enemy; soon the latter is found to be in force, the guns are retired, and the infantry advance into action, the first brigade leading with skirmishers in advance, the second brigade in column in reserve. The said skirmishers advance in approved form, running forward a little way at the rate of about three miles an hour, then lying down and firing; and the parade being as flat as a billiard-table, without any cover or irregularity of surface as large as a walnut, this proceeding is by general consent pronounced to be a most vivid representation of the realities of war. Then of a sudden the enemy is supposed to disappear from the front, and appear simultaneously on the right flank, a transformation which naturally involves a change of front on the part of our side — a favourite manœuvre of the brigadier in fact, executed in his best style. And now the force, its unprotected left flank pointing in the direction towards which it had just been fighting, goes to work again in the same approved style — skirmishers lying down, the ​supports standing just far enough off to get all the shots meant for the other, the whole advancing at about half-a-mile an hour. But now the first brigade has had enough of it, and falls back on the second, advancing thereon in line to support it. This is surely the crisis of the day, the time of all others to be watching the infantry — to see especially the 76th marching in line like a living wall. But alas! Yorke throwing a hurried glance across the field of view, sees that the equestrian spectators are following in the wake of the dust of the cavalry, executing some mysterious manœuvre in the far distance, and is more than ever oppressed with a sense of his own insignificance. The grand advance of the second brigade is practically thrown away, and all interest now centres in the charge made across their front by the returning hussars, with the irregular cavalry close behind them.
There still remains the march past; and as the troops move along to take up their places preparatory to it, our subaltern passing with his battalion just by the saluting-flag, observes the eminent personage gallantly bowing to the commissioner and party, as if inviting them to take up a good position close to himself. Mrs. Polwheedle's carriage draws up at the same time, and its occupant feels this to be one of the proud moments of her life. It was only a few months ago that an illustrated paper had a wood-cut of her Majesty reviewing the troops in Windsor Park, the royal carriage drawn up by the royal standard, and the prince consort on horseback just in front. Why, this seemed almost a reproduction of the picture. Here, too, was an eminent personage immediately in front of a barouche which, if it had not the royal arms on it, was still an elegant vehicle. But unalloyed happiness is seldom the lot of mortals; the company, it must be confessed, showed a total want of the respect due to high official rank, in pressing so closely round the carriage. Mrs. Polwheedle had sounded the brigadier over-night as to the propriety of railing off a space round the flagstaff, to be kept sacred for her carriage, and perhaps the commissioner and his daughter, but that gallant officer said he was afraid such a thing was not usual; and the crowd of equestrians gradually closed up, till the charmed circle of her fancy was utterly blotted out, the Roman nose of Mr. Lunge's horse actually projecting into the carriage. "A pushing man," Mrs. Polwheedle was heard to say; "but these rankers never know manners." Mrs. Polwheedle felt with a pang that in this respect the real fell painfully short of the ideal glory suggested by the illustrated paper.
For our subaltern, too, there was a disappointment in store. The time for the infantry was now coming. It was all very well for the cavalry and horse-artillery to go scampering about during a review, kicking up a dust and showing off; but everybody knows that in a march past the infantry is the sight worth seeing. The steadiest cavalry in the world is not to be compared in steadiness with well-drilled infantry; and if there was a regiment in the Bengal army which could march steadily, it was the 76th. We come last, thought Yorke, but we shall look best; and indeed, as the battalion came up, over a thousand bayonets, in ten strong companies, no regiment could look better, for Major Dumble had not had time yet to spoil it. But alas for human aspirations! It was the major's duty, after passing the saluting-flag, to recover his sword, and then, wheeling sharp round, to canter gracefully up to the eminent personage and remain in attendance on him till the battalion had marched past. And that worthy officer did his best to accomplish the manœuvre, albeit unaccustomed to equestrian exercise. Grasping his horse's mane firmly with the left hand, at the appointed moment, he boldly struck his right spur into the animal, and pulled the right rein smartly. Too smartly, indeed; for the charger, unaccustomed to such decided treatment from his master, gave an unwieldy plunge which nearly unseated its rider, and turning sharp round in face of the advancing grenadier company, commenced backing steadily, with its stern down and its nose up in the air. In vain Major Dumble, his left hand still holding by the friendly mane, tried by tugging at the right rein to complete the circle, and so front once more the proper way — the advancing line was on him before he could escape. The grenadiers before him began marking time; the flanks of the company continued to move on; the noble line became a curve, and the confusion thus created in the leading company spread in a few seconds from front to rear. The brigadier, flushing with rage, trotted into the fray to give some angry orders; the staff laughed, the eminent personage smiled; but at this critical point a rescue came in the person of the major's native groom, who, ​hovering with the rest of his fraternity in rear of the spectators, was descried by Dr. Grumbull, the surgeon of the 76th, who happened to be among the lookers-on, and was told by him to go to his master's help. This worthy, hurrying to the front, barefooted, and horse-flapper in hand, by dint of gentle coaxing, patting the horse on the neck, and calling it his son and other terms of endearment in the vernacular, succeeded in leading it to the rear, but not until the whole battalion had been covered with confusion. And as poor Yorke passed by at the head of the light company unobserved, for all eyes were now turned away, he had just time to notice that even Miss Cunningham was smiling and looking up towards Colonel Falkland, as if asking for information, while he, leaning towards her, was evidently explaining what had happened.
CHAPTER VI.
The eminent personage while in camp at Mustaphabad gave, as in duty bound, a succession of dinner-parties, so arranged that during his brief halt every member of the local society was invited in turn; and to Yorke the supreme good fortune happened of being invited for the same evening as the commissioner and his daughter. On any other occasion he would have been duly impressed with the magnificence of the reception-tent, so spacious that thirty or forty guests seemed quite lost in it, and the easy bearing of the staff-officers who were present, and who, marching with his Excellency's camp, treated the entertainment quite as a matter of course. And at another time he would have felt nervous when led up by the aide-de-camp on duty to be introduced to the eminent personage. But on this occasion all these distractions had no effect on him, for standing by the eminent personage, and in conversation with him, was the object of his thoughts and day-dreams. And when, after his Excellency had shaken hands affably, Miss Cunningham, as he passed on, greeted him with her usual kindness, and held out her hand, the young fellow hardly knew what he was about; and as he found his way to a corner of the room, the sudden joy which had possessed him gave way to a revulsion of feeling bordering on despair as he thought how clumsily he had responded to the sweet condescension. That little hand, he thought, which he would have liked reverentially to raise to his lips, he had shaken — awkward blockhead that he was — no more gracefully than if it belonged to any other lady — the brigadier's wife, for example.
That lady's name had hardly occurred to him when he heard her voice proceeding from an ottoman behind him.
"Oh yes, a very sweet girl indeed, but quite unsophisticated, and does such very funny things. You know it is always etiquette after being introduced to his Excellency to pass on and not stand near him. You see even I, who am the senior lady here, have come and sat down here just as a subaltern's wife might do. Of course it's different in my case, because, as his Excellency will have to take me in to dinner, I shall be able to talk to him all the time; but still there is a natural delicacy of feeling which ought to teach people how to behave on these occasions — don't you think so?"
But as she said this, a dreadful doubt crept over the worthy lady's mind that perhaps, after all, his Excellency might be contemplating a coup d'état, and would carry off Miss Cunningham as a partner for dinner, leaving her, the brigadier's lady, neglected on the sofa to follow. Or could it be intended that Mrs. Geeowe, the military secretary's lady, then sitting beside her, should be the favoured person? True, a colonel ranked after a brigadier; but still the military secretary was a very great person, and such mistakes had sometimes been made. In the agony of mind caused by these doubts, the good lady became conscious of Yorke's presence standing in front of her, and called him to her aid.
"Oh, Mr. Yorke, is that you? How do you do? You are lucky, indeed, to be invited here so soon, with all the bigwigs. Just tell the A.D.C. I want to speak to him — will you? Captain Sammys I mean — that's him standing there;" and suiting the action to the word, Mrs. Polwheedle began making a series of telegraphic signals with her fan, until, succeeding in catching the captain's eye, that gentleman crossed the tent at once, holding a paper in his hand, in which he was jotting down the names of the guests, preparatory to marshalling them in pairs.
"Oh, Captain Sammys, I just want to say that if you require any assistance about the names and order of the ladies, pray command my services. It must be so puzzling to meet such a number of strangers at every station, and especially ​at a large station like this, a first-class brigade, you know."
"Oh — ah — well, it is," said the captain; we do make mistakes sometimes; nice little bones of contention thrown among the natives for them to squabble over after we have gone; gives them something to talk about at any rate."
"Oh, but we don't want any bones of contention here," replied the lady, hardly knowing whether or not to be offended at the metaphor; "it's so easy to prevent it if you only ask the proper people for information. I wanted the brigadier to have a list of all the ladies in the station made out in order of seniority, and kept at the brigade-office. Now the commissioner's wife would have been senior to me, you know, only he's not married; and of course Miss Cunningham, she doesn't count in these matters. Then Colonel M$^c$Luckie is senior to Colonel Glumme — that's Mrs. M$^c$Luckie, the little pale thing talking to the commissioner — you wouldn't think it, for Colonel Glumme is ever so much older, and M$^c$Luckie is only a regimental major, and they are both brevets of '54, but M$^c$Luckie was senior as lieutenant-colonel."
"Thank you very much. I'm sure you have made it all as clear as daylight; but it's too late now, I'm afraid, to alter my list, for I should get into a hopeless muddle. You'll go in to dinner with his Excellency, and I must pair off the others the best way I can."
"I am sure you will manage very well," said the lady, a beaming smile succeeding the look of anxiety which had overspread her ample face; "you gentlemen of the staff are so clever."
Yorke, of course, went in to dinner, which was served in an adjoining tent, with the crowd of gentlemen to whose share no ladies fell, as became a subaltern; but it was his good fortune to sit nearly opposite to Miss Cunningham, who was handed in by a colonel on the staff, — and having nobody in particular to talk to, he occupied himself pleasantly enough in watching her furtively. The white ball-dress seemed perfect; but surely this rich dinner-dress was even more becoming. Was there ever seen so radiant and gracious a queen of beauty before? Why does not everybody in the room fall down and do homage? The colonel, happily, was a married man, so there was no cause for jealousy; but an uneasy doubt crossed his mind — what if his Excellency were to fall in love with her, and make her an offer? He was bachelor, and not much over sixty. Would she be able to withstand the temptation of the position in favour of a humble subaltern? But just then, Miss Cunningham looking round suddenly, their eyes met, and she gave him an arch look, as if recognizing a friend among strangers, which drove doubts and fears out of his head for the time. And after dinner, when the company returned to the drawing-room tent, he ventured to find his way to where she was sitting, and exchanged a few words, which sent him home with bounding heart and excited brain.
And yet there was not much in the conversation itself to turn a young fellow's head.
"I felt so sorry for your regiment at the review yesterday," she said, "just as it was coming in front, and looking so well. It was your colonel's fault, wasn't it? He got in the way, or did something ridiculous, did he not?"
"Major Dumble commands our regiment; of course it's the same thing as if he were a colonel." Angry though he was with the stupid old man, he could not be so disloyal to his commanding officer as to run him down in public, even in speaking to Miss Cunningham.
The young lady understood the implied rebuke, and at once continued, "I am very sorry for making such a blunder, and quite deserve to be scolded for it; but you see, I am so ignorant of military etiquette."
"Deserved!" cried the young fellow; "to think that I should have the presumption to say that anything you said or did was not perfect."
"Yes," she said, laughing, "but it was very far from being perfect; but there is so much tittle-tattle in the world, that it is hard not to fall into the way of talking it now and then; don't you think so?"
At this moment Colonel Falkland came up to know if she was ready to go, and Miss Cunningham rose at once.
"I didn't quite mean that, Olivia; your father is anxious to be off as soon as he can, and sent me to ask you to be ready; but you must wait till Mrs. Polwheedle sets the example of rising, or you would give mortal offence."
"There, you see," said she, turning towards Yorke laughingly — "another breach of etiquette!"
"Good heavens!" thought the youngster, "what bliss to have a private understanding set up already! and this is ​hardly more than the third time I have spoken to her."
Mrs. Polwheedle, however, was in no hurry to leave, for she was again in conversation with the eminent personage.
"I hear that your Excellency is going to march to Banglepore. I am so pleased to think that my son will have an opportunity of coming under your Excellency's notice."
"Your son, Mrs. Polwheedle?" said his Excellency; "why, I understood the brigadier here to tell me that he had no ——"
"Oh no, not his son," said the lady, tapping the brigadier on the arm with her fan; "my son by the late Captain Jones of the 10th Fusiliers — my first husband, you know — Lieutenant Jones, of the Banglepore Rangers, — as promising a young officer as there is in the army, I can assure your Excellency. He has passed in the language; and I am sure your Excellency will find him deserving of any favour you may be pleased to show him."