# Littell's Living Age/Volume 126/Issue 1622/The Dilemma - Part I

From Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine.
THE DILEMMA.
CHAPTER I.
With the advent of the cold season Anglo-Indian society revives from its hot-weather torpor. Drills and field-days begin; regiments are on the move; civilians look up their camp-equipage and shooting-apparatus; officers rejoin from furlough; wives and children return from the hills; inspections, balls, and race-meetings come off. And never were the English in India more disposed to give themselves to the amusement of the passing hour than at the close of the year 1856, when no warning note had yet been given of the great catastrophe to come, and it seemed as if the end of Indian wars had been reached at last, and ​that the only possible excitement remaining was to be found in field-sports, or the small gaieties within the reach of dwellers in cantonments. At the beginning of the cold season, too, there takes place the annual importation of young ladies from England. At small stations, indeed, this last element of the cold-weather excitement must needs be of a more or less intermittent and occasional character, since there will not be found every year parents to receive a newly grown-up daughter; but in so large a place as Mustaphabad, some accessions of this kind must always be due, and on the present occasion Miss Cunningham's arrival was heralded by rumours of her accomplishments and beauty which, even with due allowance for pardonable exaggeration when describing a young lady as yet unseen, were sufficient to account for the flutter of excitement which pervaded the local society. Letters from officers returning from leave to residents at the station, made special reference to the charms of their fellow-passenger, — notably that written by young Miles of the native infantry, who was hanging about Calcutta after arrival in search of some employment which would prevent his returning to regimental duty, and who wrote to his correspondent that Miss Cunningham was "as nice as she looks, only Mrs. Shaperown (in whose charge she came out) would hardly let her speak to a fellow on board." Still more circumstantial evidence was afforded by Captain Sparrow, the assistant commissioner of Mustaphabad, another fellow-passenger on board the Burrampootra, who had rejoined his appointment straightway on landing, and looked in, a day or two afterwards, on his cousin, Ensign Spragge, of the 76th Native Infantry, while the officers of that corps were taking early tea in the mess-house verandah after morning parade. "Ah! Miss Cunningham?" said Sparrow, with an air of languid superiority, to the two or three sitting next him, as his wily cousin turned the conversation from that gentleman's experiences of London life and Continental travel to the subject of general interest — "ah! you see, Miss Cunningham is a sort of woman that don't often come out to this country. Not a mere chit of a girl just out of the schoolroom, to get her head turned by seeing a few young fellows in red coats, or being made love to by a P. and O. purser; she has been brought up abroad and seen something of the world; talks French and Italian, and that sort of thing, as well as English, and with really quite a good taste in music. Not that she is at all stuck up, you know. She was not on speaking terms with everybody on board, of course — Mrs. Shaperown was too particular for that; but I saw a good deal of their party, naturally — her father and I being in the same commission, you see, made it different — and I found her very agreeable and well-informed. But I am afraid it will be slow for her out here, for my worthy chief, though a very excellent fellow, ain't much accustomed to ladies' society, and she's not the sort of girl to care for what you fellows call gaiety — a ball where you make up a dozen dancing couples, including the grandmammas still on active service; or your picnics out at the nawab's gardens, where there's no grass and no water, and nothing to do but yawn, and eat hermetically-sealed lobsters. No, no, English life spoils you for that sort of thing. I declare since I have come back from furlough I hate India more than ever."
So saying, Captain Sparrow mounted his horse, and, nodding his adieu languidly but affably to his audience, cantered off to the residency, while the little group of officers dispersed to their respective bungalows to dress and breakfast. Nor were they the only persons discussing the subject. "The poor dear commissioner," said Mrs. Polwheedle, the brigadier's wife, to the occupant of the next carriage, as the two ladies sat listening to the strains of the regimental band playing on the Mall at sunset — "the poor dear commissioner, there's his daughter actually going to arrive in a day or two, and not a thing ready for her. I want him to let Miss Cunningham stay with us for a week or two at first, it will be so dull for her, poor girl, in that great barn of a residency all by herself, and not a lady within five miles. No, he has not exactly promised that she shall do so, but then you know the commissioner, it is so hard to get him to say a thing outright; he is always most friendly with us, I am sure, and the brigadier says he is very clever in his management of the natives, and very clever he must be, for he scarcely ever speaks a word. But as I said to him, my dear Mr. Cunningham, you really must let the dear girl stay and rest with us, at any rate on her way up, for she will be shaken to death with the palkee journey from Panipoor, and will never be able to get on to ​the residency the same morning. And so we expect her, and then I daresay when she once stops, she will be glad to stay with me for a day or two, and the commissioner can come down and dine whenever he likes, and I will ask some of the senior officers and their wives to meet them. This will be such a nice introduction for her — don't you think so? and much pleasanter than if she were set down all at once at the residency, with the commissioner away all day at cutchery, and she not able to speak a word of the language. It's bad enough when you can talk it, with these native servants ready to steal the very nose off your face. Oh, I do think they are such rogues, every man of them." And as the good lady's thoughts passed from her hospitable intentions to the wrongs inflicted by the children of the soil, her ample face assumed a rosier hue, and her voice a deeper tone.
The arrangement proposed by Mrs. Polwheedle for Miss Cunningham's reception was, however, never carried out. Two mornings after the above conversation took place, the brigadier returning from his early ride, brought the news to his wife that the commissioner had gone down the previous day in the nawab's camel-carriage to Panipoor, at which place the made road from Calcutta at that time terminated, to meet his daughter and her maid, and that the party had passed through cantonments on their way to the residency at daybreak that morning.
CHAPTER II.
Mustaphabad society allowed Miss Cunningham one day's rest to recover from the fatigue of her journey, and by way of preserving its own self-respect from the imputation of curiosity — the only exception being Captain Buxey, the paymaster, who as an old friend who had known her when she was a little girl, drove out to see her the first day; but on the second morning after her arrival quite a stream of visitors might have been seen making their way along the dusty road between the cantonments and the residency, with many of whom, to the desire of seeing the fair occupant, was added a curiosity to inspect the place by daylight; for the commissioner, although a hospitable man, who gave frequent solemn dinner-parties as became his position, was too much occupied with business to receive morning visitors while living alone.
First in the field was Mrs. Polwheedle, whose barouche drove into the residency-grounds even before the gong in the portico had struck eleven o'clock, the time when etiquette assumes that visitors should be only starting from their own houses, and early enough to find Mr. Cunningham still sitting with his daughter over a late breakfast-table. "I thought I would come early," said the lady, after greetings, "because I know your papa has to be in court all day; and as he wouldn't let you stop with us on the way, as I wanted him to, I thought it might be a comfort to you to have some one to introduce all the visitors when they arrive; for you will have quite a levee to-day — the whole station in fact. It's not quite the same thing, of course, as when we arrived, when the brigadier came to take up the command; then there was a salute fired, and all the officers came to call in uniform and swords; still, I can assure you, your arrival has made quite a sensation, as well it may," she added, taking a step backward, and surveying, with her head on one side, the beautiful young woman before her, who stood smiling and amused at the address of her voluble visitor. " My dear, you must let me give you a kiss," continued Mrs. Polwheedle, advancing as she spoke, and folding Miss Cunningham in her ample embrace; "I am sure that we shall be great friends. I have no daughter of my own — only one son; I will tell you all about him by-and-by," she added, with a knowing smile. "Then you will want some hints about the servants, for they will take you in nicely at first. Oh yes," she continued stopping Mr. Cunningham short as he was about to speak, "I know the dear good commissioner thinks they are quite perfect angels with black faces, — just like the brigadier, in fact — he believes in the natives too; and nicely he would be robbed if it wasn't for me; I don't believe his bearer would leave him a shirt to his back. And then you will be wanting some advice about furniture," she continued, as the two ladies moved towards the drawing-room — for the commissioner, unable to come into action under fire of the invader's guns, had effected a retreat into his own rooms — "and very difficult it is to get so far up country; but, bless me!" she exclaimed, as the altered aspect of the great room broke on her, its former empty condition having been remedied by the advent of a large assortment of tables, couches, easy-chairs, and ottomans, comfortable but ​incongruous, which the sly commissioner had managed to introduce without her agency or knowledge, the whole set off by a brand-new grand piano, arrived a day or two before its mistress — "bless me! why, this is indeed a transformation!" nor was the lady's astonishment diminished on finding that Miss Cunningham was till then unaware that all this splendour had been accumulated entirely on her account.
"Why, I declare, my dear, one hardly knows the place again. Your papa used to give very elegant dinners, you know, as became his position; half the station would be here at a time, and everything in first-rate style. You can do the thing properly in these splendid rooms — Calcutta matting, too, I declare!" she ejaculated, by way of interlude, poking the floor with her parasol; "must have cost a rupee a yard if it cost a pice. Splendid rooms, are they not? and no rent to pay. I often tell the brigadier he ought to write in to government for an official residence. Our dining-room will only hold eighteen comfortably, though you can get twenty-two in by a squeeze. We must make the commissioner fix an early day to bring you to dinner, — a sort of introduction to Mustaphabad society; but, as I was saying, although the commissioner used to give such fine parties, when the ladies came into the drawing-room there was hardly a chair for them to sit down upon, leave alone an ottoman. And now I declare," she added, surveying the room with a comprehensive glance, "I don't suppose there is a house outside Chowringhee so handsomely furnished. And the whole effect is really quite chaste; the mixture of green and blue satin blends so nicely, doesn't it? But, dear me, I have never asked you about yourself all this time! Tell me, my dear, you must have had an awfully trying journey. For my part I never will go even to the hills unless the brigadier goes with me; I really cannot travel alone. For all that I look so strong, I am really very delicate, and the least fright upsets me. Tell me, my dear, weren't you very nervous at first starting on your journey at being surrounded by chattering natives, and you not able to speak a word to them?"
"Oh no," replied the young lady, smiling; "you see we came — that is, my companion and I — with friends of papa almost the whole way. So we had no trouble at all; and then papa sent his head man — his jemadar I think he calls him — to Calcutta to meet me, and he sat on the box night and day, and seemed never to go to sleep at all; so we got on capitally, and then papa met us at Panipoor, and brought us on in a camel-carriage, a wonderful conveyance, but really very comfortable."
Thus Mrs. Polwheedle was already established on a friendly footing when the other visitors arrived, a succession of them too numerous to mention, ladies with their husbands, and bachelors, singly or in pairs — Colonal Tartar of the hussars, to wit, driving his mail-phaeton; Rowell and Scurry of the same regiment driving out together in the latter's tandem; Messrs. Cubitt and Stride of the artillery, in a buggy hired from Nubbee Bux, general dealer in the bazaar, the horse attached to which being newly employed in such a capacity made sundry diversions by the way off the road, happily unattended with serious consequences, as the embankment was not much raised above the surrounding country. Others, more economically disposed, made the journey on horseback, among them Lieutenant Yorke and Ensign Spragge of the 76th Native Infantry, who cantered down to the residency on their respective ponies.
The commissioner's house — destined to be the scene of a famous episode in events to come — which had been built in the days before the annexation of Mustaphabad, and when British authority and interest had been represented by a resident or diplomatic agent stationed at the court of the nawab, and therefore still bore the designation of "the residency" — had been designed with a view to symbolize the importance of the paramount authority — the reigning nawab under treaty engagements paying the cost — and the architect had apparently intended to produce some undefined resemblance to the British Museum or a Grecian temple, without feeling quite sure which of the two should be copied. The two visitors, riding through a gateless opening in the wall which enclosed the spacious grounds, alighted under a gigantic portico of no particular order, the columns of which dwarfed their ponies to the size of sheep, and where a sepoy of their regiment was standing as sentry; and then, proceeding up a flight of broad steps, on which were lounging half-a-dozen messengers clad in scarlet tunics, with gold waistbands and white turbans, were ushered into the house. The public rooms were large and lofty; but the drawing- ​room, which occupied the centre of the building, deriving all its light from narrow clerestory windows shaded by blinds, and through the doors opening into the surrounding rooms, was somewhat gloomy in the daytime. Not, however, that young Yorke noticed these particulars, although the time was to come when he would be familiar with every corner of the building; for, entering straightway from the glare of Indian sunlight into comparative darkness, he was painfully conscious of making an entry deficient in dignity, as he stumbled against an ottoman, and then knocked his shins against a chair, before he became gradually able to make out the presence of the occupants of the drawing-room. Miss Cunningham, Mrs. Polwheedle, and two officers of hussars; and as the new-comers established themselves on chairs at the far side of a great gulf or open space, bounded on one side by a table, and on the other by a large ottoman, our subaltern became more than ever impressed with a sense of his unworthiness, while feeling, too, that his tight red shell-jacket contrasted disadvantageously with the easy grace of the long braided frock-coats of the other visitors. Moreover, although the latter had driven over, they were adorned with long glistening steel spurs, whereas the two infantry subalterns wore little insignificant appendages screwed into the heels of their boots, as befitted men of their branch of the service when on horseback, wholly without lustre or rattle, and good only for use. The road too had been dusty, and the wind high, and even a December sun is hot at midday, and poor Yorke was conscious that his face was flushed and dirty, contrasting unfavourably with the cool and orderly appearance of the two drivers, one of whom sat calmly sucking the top of his cane, while the other, with a pleased simper on his face, and playing with his laced cap, was talking easy nothings to the lady of the house. Nor did the conversation begin auspiciously. It was opened by Mrs. Polwheedle.
"You young gentlemen rode over on your tats, I suppose? The subaltern's tat, my dear Miss Cunningham — that is the name, you know, they give to a pony in this country — is the most useful animal you can imagine. It goes out any number of times a day, and does any quantity of work, but never gets tired. Every subaltern, you know, in this country keeps his pony, although how an ensign can afford to do it on his pay is a perfect wonder, with grain at sixteen pounds the rupee."
Poor Yorke felt himself getting redder than ever; but while casting about for a repartee which did not readily present itself, one of the hussar officers took up the cudgels.
"Subalterns don't always keep ponies, if you please, Mrs. Polwheedle; I have never had one since I entered the service: I prefer horses; so does Mr. Scurry here."
"Oh yes, of course," replied Mrs. Polwheedle with a smile, as if half-disposed to wrath, half-disposed to condescension; "I was not referring to cavalry officers; you gentlemen have your chargers, I know, and very pretty they look, but —"
"By the way," interrupted the aggressive Rowell, "that's not a bad-looking tat the brigadier has been riding lately — where did he get him from?"
"You mean his grey horse?" replied the lady, bridling up.
"Well, it isn't exactly a horse," continued the persistent Rowell; "it certainly ain't fourteen; I doubt if it's much over thirteen."
"Well, sir, and if it is not, pray what has the age of the horse to do with the matter?"
"Not thirteen years, Mrs. Polwheedle; I wasn't speaking about the pony's age, but about his height. However," he continued, seeing that the lady appeared to have had enough in the encounter, "it looks a good, useful, weight-carrying nag, and handy for getting off and on again — not far to travel either way."
This last remark might be said to complete the victory, for riding was not among Brigadier Polwheedle's strong points; but the lady was not prepared to surrender all at once the position she had assumed, so, turning again towards young Spragge, she said —
"So you have got a new commanding officer now — Major Dumble. He called on us yesterday, and seems a quiet, gentlemanly person. How do you like the change from Colonel Marshall?"
"Well, of course we are sorry to lose our dear old colonel; he had never been away from the regiment before."
"And why did he leave it to go to another regiment, then?"
"He had to make way for Major Dumble. The major, of course, had to come back to the regiment on promotion, because he couldn't hold his appointment ​as a field-officer; and as he must come back to his own regiment, the colonel had to be shifted to another."
"Oh yes; the brigadier was telling me something about it. Major Dumble comes from the commissariat, does he not?"
"No, from the pay-department; he has been fifteen years away from the regiment."
"Well, I hope he is a good drill, and will take care to get the regiment into good order for inspection, for the brigadier is very particular. You must know, Miss Cunningham, that all the annual inspections are coming on. The brigadier has to inspect all the regiments in the station, and make a report on them to the commander-in-chief; this is a first-class brigade, you know, and so the brigadier reports direct to headquarters. You will enjoy these inspections, I am sure, and must not fail to come to them, especially the cavalry review, it is such a pretty sight. Isn't it, Mr. Rowell?" she added, turning towards that gentleman, and as it were holding out the olive-branch to him.
"Oh yes," replied Rowell; "the colonel generally knocks the regiment about a bit on these occasions — pursuing practice, and that sort of thing; it amuses the brigadier and the ladies."
Just then Miss Cunningham, opposite to whom Yorke was sitting, but a long way off, crossed over towards him. If she seemed beautiful before, the grace of her movements as she passed over the open space possessed the young fellow as with a sense of enchantment; while the rustling of her dress when she took the seat next to his raised a corresponding flutter in his heart, as he sat motionless, fascinated by her proximity, hardly venturing to look up, gazing at the folds of rich trimmings that fluttered beside him.
Yet there was nothing very formidable in her opening address. "These soldiers," she asked, "who mount guard by turns at our door, do they belong to your regiment?"
As Miss Cunningham said this in a low rich voice, which had in it an expression of unconscious pathos, and turning her long graceful neck, looked towards the listener, her manner was as if the question was full of interest for her, and her face, although it wore an open smile, seemed as one that might be readily attuned to sympathy with sorrow.
Yorke's acquaintance with young ladies was not large, and he had never met with anything like this before. Miss Glumme, one of the two young ladies imported into Mustaphabad in the previous season, never looked you in the face at all, but answered questions monosyllabically, and with downcast eyes, as if conversation was a thing unbecoming a woman; Miss Peart, on the other hand, a little brunette nowise afflicted with mauvais honte, jerked out her sentences with a sort of little laugh at the end of each, as if the mere act of saying anything in itself partook of the funny. But here was a young lady who appeared even when in society to take an interest in something. A queen, too, could not have been more gracious; and surely no queen ever looked more regal in her crown than did this beautiful young woman with a coronet of rich brown hair braided over her lofty head.
It was a simple question, but Yorke felt himself growing redder than ever, as he replied in the affirmative.
"I quite expected," continued Miss Cunningham, "to find the sepoys insignificant-looking creatures, with large soft eyes and big earrings. It was quite a surprise to see them so different. You must feel very proud of commanding such fine fellows."
"I don't command them, you know," replied Yorke; "I only command my own company — at least I hold two companies just now, as we are short of officers" — here the young fellow stopped with some confusion, for it suddenly seemed to him how vain he must appear to be, bragging about his duty in this way. Besides, what could a splendid creature like this care about the small organic details of a native infantry regiment, a thing regarded by society generally, and young ladies in particular for the first three or four years of spinsterhood — if it lasted so long — as altogether beneath serious interest?
Miss Cunningham, however, persisted in her inquiries. She had come to India, and wanted to know all about the country and the people, she said. The lascars on board the steamer were insignificant-looking people; but her papa's jemadar, who met her at Calcutta, had a most dignified appearance, and was so attentive and well-bred: although she could not understand a word he said, he seemed to know exactly what to do; and then he sat on the coach-box the whole way from Calcutta; she was really quite ashamed that he should be exposed to ​such hardships, while she was travelling at her ease.
The conversation ran on in this wise for a few minutes. Miss Cunningham, who had taken pity on the forlorn condition of the young fellow sitting on the outside of the circle, and snubbed by Mrs. Polwheedle, was trying to set him at his ease; and while that lady was discoursing at some length to the other guests on a point of domestic economy, Yorke, becoming emboldened by her sympathetic manner, was gradually acquiring a little self-possession, and had got to the point of explaining the difference between a subahdar and a havildar, when fresh visitors were announced, and the other gentlemen rose to take their departure. Yorke perforce followed the example of the rest; and as Miss Cunningham at parting held out her hand with a frank gracious smile, he felt that the void in his existence, of which he had been for some time conscious, was now at once more than filled up.
"Gave the old lady as good as she brought," said Rowell to Yorke, under the great portico, as he stepped into the tandem-cart after his companion; "that's the way to deal with her. You stick up to her, my good fellow, whenever she tries the patronizing dodge, and you will soon put a stop to it."
CHAPTER III.
Yorke and Spragge had engaged themselves to luncheon with the latter's cousin, Captain Sparrow, the assistant commissioner, who occupied a small house within the residency-grounds formerly belonging to the assistant-resident; and to this the two young officers repaired after their morning call. In the verandah was a lesser band of red-coated myrmidons, who ushered the visitors into a sitting-room, and proceeded to the adjacent court-house to summon Captain Sparrow. That gentleman suspended the progress of the suit which he was engaged in hearing, and presently joined them with languidly affable greetings.
"You gentlemen look quite warm in your red jackets," observed their host, as they sat down to luncheon; "but pray unbutton them if you like, and make yourselves comfortable. Liberty hall this, you see — a mere bachelor's den." Captain Sparrow, however, was dressed himself with a degree of care unusual in an Indian official at his daily work; and as he said this, he threw a glance round the room, by way of drawing attention to its appointments.
"Bachelor's den indeed!" cried his cousin; "none of your humbug, Ted. You know that you always set up for being a swell. See what it is to be in civil employ, Yorke! But you're a bigger swell than ever since you've been home. I suppose you brought all these nobby pictures back with you," he added, looking up at the walls, which were adorned with various specimens of the graver's art; "and all this new plate. Never saw a bachelor's house like it before, leave alone a den."
"Ah, you wouldn't think much of this if you saw the well-appointed establishments some men have in England; the thing is not to be done with native servants, and especially by a busy man like myself, who have no time to look after my household; still I like to have things neat about my little place."
"Little place indeed!" replied Spragge. "Why, you might put the whole of our bungalow into this room, roof and all — couldn't he, Arty? Well, at any rate, you don't want much preparation before changing your state. Only one more thing wanted to complete the arrangement, eh? And now here is the lady arrived already and at hand. I envy you your opportunities, my dear fellow. See what it is to be a swell civilian instead of a poor N.I. sub. I declare I must take to studying the language or mugging up history, like Yorke here. However it's too late to cut you out this time, I suppose."
"Oh, as to that," said his cousin, with a pleased simper, "you mustn't suppose that there is anything serious in that quarter. You harum-scarum soldiers fancy that if a man doesn't like living in a barn he must be bent on matrimony. For my part, I think marrying is a mistake, at any rate till you get on in life. It ties a man down too much; and children may be all very well in England, with a proper staff of nurses to look after them, but they are dreadfully in the way out here. When a man goes home with a certain position and no encumbrances, you see, the pleasures of society are open to him, and he is free to travel, and so on. A very agreeable life I can assure you; but it comes to an end too soon. The only thing left now is to look forward to one's next furlough." And as the speaker concluded he cast his eyes over the table-cloth, as if surveying there the refined pleasures offered by a ​view of Europe to the cultivated man without encumbrances.
His cousin winked at Yorke by way of hint that he was going to draw the captain out.
"No, no, Ted, that won't do. You don't mean to tell me that you're not going to make the running in that line. Wouldn't I, just, if I had your chances! Why, I suppose you are in and out of the residency like a tame dog?"
Captain Sparrow was evidently nettled at his cousin's want of reverence, displayed, too, before a third party; but he condoned it in consideration of the opening afforded to talk about himself, so replied, drawing up both himself and his shirt-collar —
"If you mean that I have the entrée of Cunningham's house, just as he has of mine, of course. But we don't carry the Jack-and-Tom school of manners which appears still to pervade native infantry messes into civilized life, my dear fellow. Of course I could invite myself there at any time; but now Cunningham is so much occupied with his daughter that he leaves all culchery business to his deputy — and in fact you must excuse my running away presently, but I have scarcely a minute to call my own; and, to tell you the truth, I don't much care about making one of the party when they are simply en famille, — one must draw the line somewhere." And Captain Sparrow looked mysterious, and stopped, as evidently inviting further inquiry.
Tills was at once made, Yorke feeling more interested than ever in the conversation.
Captain Sparrow explained that Miss Cunningham had brought out a French servant with her, a lady's-maid, at any rate she came out as a second-class passenger on board the steamer; but now, forsooth, her mistress had established her as a sort of companion, and she took her meals at the same table with Mr. Cunningham and his daughter, when they were alone.
"I shouldn't mind that a bit," said Spragge, "if she's nice-looking, and don't eat with her knife."
"That's hardly a criterion, my good fellow," replied the captain, with an air of superiority; "if you had travelled on the Continent, you would have seen quite elegant women at the tables d'hôte hipping up their food with their knives. That's merely an insular prejudice of yours. Oh no; the girl is well enough in her way, but still there is an etiquette in these things."
"I shouldn't care a bit about etiquette, for my part," said Spragge. "If she's a pretty girl, I'd rather take her in to dinner any day than Mrs. Polwheedle. But I shouldn't be able to talk her lingo, which would be a drawback."
"You need not be alarmed on that score. Justine understands English perfectly, and talks it well enough, and without the vulgarisms some people employ; but still there is a propriety in these things you know — est modus in rebus."
One crumb of comfort Yorke carried away, as he mounted his pony to ride home. Sparrow was not a favoured suitor, as appeared at first sight to be his natural position. Unless a thorough dissembler, which was evidently not his character, he could not be at present even a suitor at all. This conclusion reconciled Yorke to having partaken of luncheon under his roof, which at one time during the visit had seemed to the young fellow as opposed to honourable dealing. This at any rate was some consolation, as he cantered on his pony by the side of his companion, depressed, and yet not hopeless.
"Something like a young lady, by Jove!" cried Spragge, breaking the silence at last, as, on nearing the cantonments, they reduced their pace to a walk. "You don't often see such beauty as that in these parts. And no end of money, too, I expect. Old Cunningham must have saved handsomely; for beyond giving dinners and keeping elephants, he can't have had anything to spend his pay on. All those fellows in red tunics are kept up for him by government, and, I daresay, half his private servants too, if the truth were known. It's only we poor beggars of subalterns who have to pay for our bearers."
"How much does the commissioner get?"
"Four thousand one hundred and sixty-six rupees a month, the pay of twenty ensigns; think of that, my boy: the mind almost refuses to grasp such a sum. My cousin Teddy gets a thousand a month, which is pretty well, and spends it, too, on his pictures, and side-dishes, and fiddle-faddle. However, he's not half a bad fellow, Ted isn't, after all; he stood security for me once, when I was harder up even than I am now. See what it is to get a civil appointment. I wish I could make up my mind to pass; but ​those black classics are the very deuce, and that's a fact. However, a scholar like you is sure to get something or other one of these days, and become a swell like Teddy; and then when some Miss Cunningham of the future comes out, it will be your turn to go in and win."
Too late then, thought Yorke, bitterly, as the other's random talk shot home. It must be now or never. And what chance is there that the prize will keep so long, till I am ready to claim it? Yet that night the young fellow sat up at work till late after mess; and all next day, while his chum was at a cricket-match, he stayed in the little bungalow over his books, only leaving them towards sundown, when he mounted his pony and took the way of the course.
The mall or course of Mustaphabad was about two miles long, bordered by trees, and bounded on each side by the mud-banks which enclosed the rectangular spaces allotted for officers' houses — spaces some of them converted into neat gardens, some laid out in grass, some left in a state of nature, a small desert of baked mud or sand, as the case might be. The road was a wide one, macadamized for carriages in the middle, a sandy track on either side left soft for riders, and watered to keep down the dust.
The prospect was not lively, nor was there a soul yet to be seen, for he had come out too soon; he had not spoken to any one all day; life seemed flat, stale, and unprofitable; and as he rode at foot-pace along the mall, his heart sank within him. What if a military career was to be always like this?
Presently a moving object appeared in the far perspective, which in the fulness of time developed into a buggy and horse with two occupants, Tirtell of the 8oth N. I. driving his young wife. So, after all, matrimony was possible even for a subaltern on regimental duty. And for a moment a vision passed across his mind, as of himself driving a buggy with some one by his side, her dress touching him, and even the idea sent a thrill through his frame. Could it be possible the time should ever come when some loved object should be driving by his side, looking frankly into his face, and smiling, and he talking to her at his ease, as Tirtell did to his wife? Everybody said Mrs. Tirtell was very clever, which certainly Tirtell was not, yet he was talking quite without embarrassment, and his wife was laughing at what he said. No; this would be too much happiness for a human being. Besides, he could not associate such a noble presence as Miss Cunningham's with a buggy — nothing less than a barouche would befit so peerless a creature. But why build up these foolish castles in the air? Miss Cunningham the bride of a penniless subaltern of native infantry! And yet why despair? Surely his patient efforts to qualify for preferment would be rewarded before long. Everybody said that India was the country where any man could win success without interest or favour, merely by deserving it. And if Mr. Cunningham should be averse to his daughter's marrying an officer of irregular cavalry or the quartermaster-general's department (for to one or other of these goals did his ambition now point), why, surely her father's interest could easily obtain for him an assistant commissionership; and once in the civil line, the road to wealth and preferment was easy.
A current of ideas somewhat in this fashion passed through the young fellow's mind, as his pony with loose rein bore him slowly along the mall, now beginning to show a sprinkling of visitors. A couple of hussar officers in their braided frock-coats and trousers with gold-lace stripes, mounted on their Arab chargers; a couple of horse-artillery officers, distinguishable from the cavalry only by red instead of gold stripes; Chupkin of the irregulars, in a uniform designed by his commanding officer after a Continental tour, which had borrowed a trifle in lace and embroidery from every cavalry costume in Europe, his wife riding his second charger; the brigadier, a stout red-faced man, mounted on the Cabulee cob which had been the subject of discussion the day before; foot-artillery and infantry officers, blue and red jacketed, and more or less well-mounted; married captains driving their wives in buggies; married field-officers, with their wives and children in barouches and pair; Despenser, the superintending surgeon, who had a family at home as well as in India, and was supposed to be heavily in the banks, in a barouche and one; some forty or fifty people distributed over the two miles or so of road, with the substitution of coloured uniforms for white linen jackets and trousers, gave the place quite a lively appearance by contrast with the monotony of the hot season, just ended. Mrs. Polwheedle, of course, was there, seated in an extra large barouche, as became a brigadier's lady, and being short-sighted, merely raised a double eyeglass and ​stared at our subaltern as she passed him, thereby checking him short in his half-made bow; and see, can it be? — yes, it is — that must be the commissioner's carriage with the two mounted orderlies riding behind it, — Mr. Cunningham himself, who had never been known to take a drive on the mall before, with his daughter beside him. She will never recognize me, thought the youngster bitterly; how can she be expected to remember one face in particular among so many new ones as she must have seen during the last two days? But no, he was mistaken, for as the carriage passed quickly by, Miss Cunningham, turning towards him, gave a gracious bow and smile, and Yorke felt himself turning scarlet as he lifted his cap in reply. How different, thought he, while recovering his composure after the salute — how different from the sort of bow one generally gets from our young ladies! Miss Glumme, for instance, gives a solemn bend without moving a muscle of her face, as if performing a mournful duty; while with Miss Peart a jerky little nod of the head would suffice. A queen could not have been more gracious, and surely she looks even more beautiful in a bonnet than without one. Who says that the present fashion in bonnets is unbecoming? I suppose the little brunette in the back seat was the French maid Sparrow was so indignant at having to sit down to table with. The blockhead! her waiting-woman will be quite as good as most of our station-belles, I'll be bound. No woman could be long in her presence without gaining something of grace and refinement from the contact.
Thus musing, the young fellow turned his pony's head, and cantered back after the carriage towards the other end of the course, where most of the company were now assembled by the band-stand; for this was the evening of the week when the band of the hussars played out.
The commissioner's carriage was drawn up with the others round the stand, a ring being left between the performers and the horses, in which the various children, alighted from their parents' carriages, were at play. On one side of it was that of Mrs. Polwheedle, leaving no room for a horseman to interpose. The other side, that on which Miss Cunningham sat, was open; but just as Yorke with the courage of despair was about to ride up to it, the vacant place was taken by Colonel Tartar of the hussars. Yorke could not but admire the little colonels's self-possession, as he sat lounging in the saddle, flapping the flies away from the neck of his handsome Arab pony with the brush at the end of his riding-cane, and talking to Miss Cunningham with as much ease as if he were laying down the law in the ante-room of his own mess. Ah! what a position was that! a bare twenty years' service and the command of a regiment of dragoons, for the senior lieutenant-colonel was brigadier on the staff at another station. Who might not feel at ease under such circumstances, even when speaking to Miss Cunningham? More wonderful than the colonel's self-possession was that he should presently move away from his vantage-ground, and steer his horse round to the other side of Mrs. Polwheedle's carriage. A sudden fit of boldness seized Yorke, and he rode up to the vacant place. Miss Cunningham did not notice him at first, her head being turned in the other direction, and for a few seconds Yorke sat listening like the rest to the conversation between Mrs. Polwheedle and the colonel.
"Really, Colonel Tartar, you must come some day to dine with us and taste our home-fed pork, it is quite delicious. A little pork is such a nice change, you know, after the hot weather; and my appetite is always so delicate, I need a change after the constant poultry and mutton. The brigadier always sees the pigs fed every morning, or else I go myself; we are most particular about looking after them, I can assure you."
Just then Miss Cunningham turned her head, so that Yorke had no longer any ears for the conversation. Her smile on recognizing him was as frank and winning as before, as she said —
"Oh, Mr. Yorke, I am afraid you must have thought us very inhospitable in not asking you and your friend to stay and lunch yesterday — but I had no idea you had ridden so far; it was dark when we passed through cantonments on the morning of our arrival, so it was not till our drive here this evening that I discovered what a distance it is from our house."
Yorke stammered out something in reply about its not being of the slightest consequence, and the delight it would have been to him to accept the invitation; and then gaining composure added that they had not had to ride back unrefreshed, for they lunched with her neighbour, Captain Sparrow.
"Oh! Captain Sparrow?" said Miss ​Cunningham, again smiling, and this time, as it seemed, with a gleam of humour in her eye; "yes, he is a very near neighbour of ours — almost our only one; we took early tea with him this morning. How nice and neat his house is; I had no idea that you Indian bachelors were so luxurious."
The feeling of jealousy with which Yorke listened to anything like commendation about even the appointments of Captain Sparrow's establishment was mingled with a sort of momentary gratification that Miss Cunningham should be favourably impressed with an Indian bachelor's household, albeit through such instrumentality; but an immediate reaction passed through his mind against permitting a deception on the point, and he hastened to reply —
"You mustn't judge of bachelors' bungalows by Captain Sparrow's. He is always regarded as the model swell of the place, and besides, he is in civil employ. A bachelor's bungalow is a very humble affair generally."
"But it seems a very luxurious arrangement to have a house all to yourself. The bachelors I have known have generally been satisfied with two rooms, or even one."
"But we don't generally have a whole bungalow to ourselves. Mr. Spragge and I live together, for instance; and after all, there are only three rooms in the bungalow altogether, so that we don't exceed your allowance." But at this point the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of two more cavaliers, and became general, partaking for the most part of inquiries as to how Miss Cunningham had enjoyed her voyage, and what sort of a journey she had had up the country, and what she thought of India, Justine the maid looking straight to her front the while, as if not supposed to listen. "A parcel of boobies Miss Cunningham must think us," said Yorke bitterly to himself all the while, to talk such twaddle. At last the interview came to an end; the young lady, laying her hand gently on her father's arm — he was a man not given to general conversation, and had been leaning back in the carriage without talking — said that it must be time to drive homewards, as they were expecting friends to dinner. As the carriage turned round she gave them each a gracious bow, and Yorke riding off slowly to the mess-house to dinner, employed himself in trying to recall each word spoken by her, and to conjure up the tremulous sounds of a voice that still thrilled through him; for Miss Cunningham could not ask a simple question without throwing a certain amount of unconscious pathos into its low tones.