Mrs. Desmond

“ Desmond commanded in the peremptory vernacular; and mounted the steps with his burden.
Honor stood awaiting him in the drawing-room, white as her dress, tears glistening on her cheeks and lashes, yet very composed withal.
At sight of his face she started; it was grey-white and set like a rock. Only the eyes were alive—and ruthless, as she had never yet seen them, and prayed that she never might see them again.
"They've got the man," he said between his teeth. "I wish to God I could shoot him with my own hand."
Then he went forward to the sofa, and laid his wife upon it. ”

“ Desmond saw all this, because at night the shade was discarded, though the rakish bandage still eclipsed his right eye. He lay lapped in a pleasant sense of the unreality of outward things, and his wife—dimly seen and motionless—had the air of a dream-figure in a dream.
Suddenly she leaned down, and caressed his damp hair with a familiar lightness of touch.
"I heard you move, darling," she whispered. "I've been sitting such a long, long while alone; and I badly wanted you to wake up."
"Such a brave Ladybird!" he said, imprisoning her fingers. "You seem to be on duty all the time. ”

“ It's not enough, Mrs Desmond—Evelyn——"
"Oh, hush—hush! You mustn't say that!" she murmured ineffectually; but he paid no heed.
"You find this sort of thing pleasant enough while Desmond's away; but will you keep it up when he comes back? Tell me that——" He leaned closer; but she turned her head away, avoiding his gaze.
"Oh, I don't know. How can I possibly tell?" she answered, half plaintively, half petulantly. "Why are men so tiresome? They never seem able to enjoy things peaceably without making tragedies and getting too much in earnest——"
"But how if I am in earnest—in desperate earnest?" ”

“ Of course, he pities me—everyone does; everyone is kind to me—but, apart from that, do you really, really think I am his favorite—in spite of my blindness?”
Mrs. Desmond rose, cross the room, put her hand upon the girl’s shoulder.
“I don’t think—I know,” she returned. “He thinks more of you than he thinks of anyone in the wide, wide world! That’s something to be proud of, Nora.” ”

“ If my Lord Desmond wanted his wife, he should not have mixed himself up with those wicked conspiracies against our good King. 'Tis his own doing if he never sees my face again; and if he prefers my dowry to me, he is most welcome to it, as far as I am concerned." But as I ran up-stairs to inspect the preparations for my journey to London, I found myself wondering whether the French ladies were very beautiful—fairer than that face I caught a glimpse of as I passed a mirror in the withdrawing-room—and whether, if Lord Desmond was to see me—— But here I stopped, with a laugh at my own vanity ”

“ A grief to her father, who loved her; a terrible perplexity to her well-meaning though prejudiced stepmother. Not at all a terrible-looking little person, although Mrs. Desmond, amongst her most intimate friends, did occasionally lament her stepdaughter's unfortunate plainness. It was an interesting little face, with delicate though sharp features, and large, questioning, restless, blue-gray eyes; sad enough sometimes, but gleaming with fun and mischief on the least provocation. Helen's rough dark hair and her rather angular figure were Mrs. Desmond's despair ”

“ Desmond. "Do you think you would make a good, patient nurse for my little girl, Mary?"
"I will do the best I can," little Golden replied, in her gentle, refined voice.
[Pg 50]
Mrs. Desmond looked at her friend.
"I am not in the habit of engaging help without recommendation. It is rather a risk to run," she remarked, "but to please you, my friend, and because I really need a maid for Ruby, I will give Mary Smith a trial. When can you come Mary?"
"She can stay now, if you like, Edith," said Mrs. Markham. ”

“ Blest with vivacity, courage, and an ardent zest for Frontier soldiering, Desmond had rarely found life other than very good; but he had only proven the full measure of its goodness since his marriage with Honor Meredith. And the mouths brought increasing reliance on her comradeship; increasing insight into the depths and delicacies of a passion that was almost genius. His need of her was deeper now than it had been two years ago, when he had believed himself at the summit of desire. For a great love is like a great mountain-range. Each height scaled reveals farther heights beyond. ”

“ Not a thing made in the verandah; but a good style of frock from Mussoorie or Lahore, whichever you please; and you can ask Mrs Desmond to help you choose it. Her dresses are always first class, and she is interested in such things."
[12] Thorough.
CHAPTER VI. GENIUS OF CHARACTER.
"For still the Lord is Lord of Might,
In deeds, in deeds, He takes delight."
—R. L. S.
Evelyn Desmond's picnic was an accomplished fact. ”

“ His smile had a hint of scorn.
"Goodness knows! There is nothing to prevent you——"
"Yes—there is!" she spoke hurriedly, with downcast eyes. "Honor would never take me. She thinks it's dreadful that I should go. I never saw her so angry before. She—she said—terrible things——"
"Good God! What do—you—mean?"
Desmond spoke slowly. Anger and amazement sounded in his deep voice; and his wife saw what she had done.
"Theo!—Theo!" she cried, clasping her hands, and wringing them in distraction at her own foolishness, "I never meant to say that. ”

“ Linda Kresney's face had fallen very blank; but she pulled herself together, and called up a cold little smile.
"Of course not, Mrs Desmond. How could I think it is your fault, when you have always been so veree kind to us? We often say it is a pity every one is not so kind as you are. I am sorry Miss Meredith is not well." An acid note invaded her voice. She had her own suspicions of Honor, as being too obviously Captain Desmond's friend. "My brother will be terribly disappointed. No doubt we can come some day veree soon instead."
But Evelyn was too self-absorbed to detect the obvious hint. ”

“ And that we comprehend each other without collision? I love him, as a mature woman may love,—once, Ben, only once; the fire-tipped arrows rarely pierce soul and sense, blood and brain."
He made a gesture, expressive of contempt.
"Men are different; he is different."
"You have already spoken for me, and, I suppose, you will for him."
"I venture to. Desmond is a violent, tyrannical, sensual man; his perceptions are his pulses. That he is handsome, clever, resolute, and sings well, I can admit; but no more."
"We will not bandy his merits or his demerits between us. Let us observe him. ”

“ One cannot be very powerful with just two hundred a year, and a doubtful position as the widow of a boy whose relations are prepared to dispute one's marriage. Mrs. Desmond spent three years in thought, and in caring severely for the wants of her child. ”

“ Desmond studied the man who was giving him this unsolicited information, and he concluded that the nice-looking man was sharp number two; he was up to this sort of business and perceived the whole game.
"Yes, he appears like a good, honest fellow," said Desmond.
"Honest? why, you could trust him with all you had in the world."
"Yes, he looks that."
"He is one of the kindest-hearted fellows in the world. I tell you if you get into trouble he is the man to aid you. He is the best pistol shot and rifle shot in the land. Why, that fellow has fought off a whole tribe of Indians. ”

“ Desmond's first marriage had brought him no such revelation of the hidden mysteries of union; no companionship worthy of the name; and the happiness that comes late, on the heels of conflict and pain, takes a more conscious grip on the heart, is more firmly held to, more jealously guarded, than that which meets us on the threshold, and is accepted as part of the natural order of things. ”

“ There was a significant pause.
“And I do so hate painting my face!” remarked Desmond irrelevantly.
The Chief laughed. “I knew I could count on you, Okewood. Very little disguise will be necessary if you will consent to sacrifice your moustache. All I ask you to do is to dine at the Hexagon at eight o’clock to-morrow evening in the guise of Mr. Murchison of Munich. You can leave the rest to me. And if, in the course of the evening, you should recognize that brother of yours—well, don’t! Now as to this question of your make-up . . .” ”

“ All these years have been wasted, but they shall be made up for you before long. You shall be as happy a wife as a man can make you.'
'Douglas!'
She had her elbows on the table, and her face upon her hands.
'What nonsense is this?' demanded Lady Desmond. 'Haven't I said that I brought you here to tell you that I would have no more of it?'
'My dear Lady Desmond, I think you will admit that Edith and I have arrived at years of discretion?'
'You'll never do that if you live to be a hundred. You've ruined my life, and you've ruined hers. You've made her prematurely old. Look at her! ”

“ You're too rich, Marjorie, for me to ask you the question which, almost from the moment I first saw you in the smoke-room of the Naomi, I have wanted to put to you. I make enough out of this trade of mine to keep a wife. But as long as I'm in the Secret Service I'd ask no woman to marry me. It wouldn't be playing the game by her—nor by the Service, either!...”
She listened to me in silence. Then she said quite simply:
“Desmond, if you'll ask me, I'll be your wife. I've never met a man I'd marry before; but I'd marry you. Why should you let money stand between us? ”

“ I felt the full force of every word he advanced in favor of cultivating the society of the amiable—the beautiful. My feelings, naturally ardent, were wrought to the highest pitch of excitement, and I fervently hoped my unfortunate temperament would not forever exclude me from the charms he so eloquently eulogised. Mr. Desmond, unlike the generality of my acquaintances, did not ridicule me. ”

“ Sympathy, he supposed, about Desmond.
Well, he was grateful; and for the first time his heart reached out for pity—almost humbled itself—accepted the human lot. If Desmond were killed, he would never choose to go on living. Did she know that? Was it because she guessed at the feelings he had always done his best to hide that she had been so good to him that evening?
What as to that love-story of hers—her family?—her brother in Mesopotamia? He began to feel a hundred curiosities about her, and a strong wish to make life easy for her, as she had been making it easy for him. ”

“ He'll be down at the Lines all the afternoon. It's our day for tent-pegging. You might ride down with Mrs Desmond, and bring me news of what my men are doing. I'm mad at not being able to be there myself."
She deserted her breakfast, and knelt down beside him.
"Dear man! Of course I'll go and find out all about it from Captain Desmond. I needn't stay long to do that."
"No. You can say you want to get back to me. Desmond will understand."
"He's rather a fine fellow, isn't he?"
"One of the best I know. The last man who ought to be hampered by a woman." ”

“ This is not such a nice place for a girl as for a young man, and the Desmonds thought it exceedingly odd that mamma should wish me to come here. As Mrs. Desmond said, it is because she is so very unconventional. But you know Paris is so very amusing, and if only Harold remains good-natured about it, I shall be content to wait for the caravan (that’s what he calls mamma and the children) . The person who keeps the establishment, or whatever they call it, is rather odd, and exceedingly foreign ”

“ Fools men are to care! But Desmond is what you call finely organised; and you can't handle a violin as you would a big drum. Frankly, now, his eyesight's in danger; and that wound in his cheek is an ugly one in any case. He wants careful nursing, and I refuse to put him into Mrs Desmond's hands. ”

“ The idea stirred up all the dregs of the man's soul. A sudden bitterness overwhelmed him—a sense of the futility of attempting to strike at a man so obviously favoured by the gods; a man who held his head so resolutely above the minor trivialities of life.
But the will to strike would soon or late evolve a way. There were other means of achieving intimacy with a woman as inexperienced as little Mrs Desmond, and he would get Linda to help him. Linda was a good girl, if a trifle stupid. ”

“ It was about this time that Lady Desmond gave birth to the unfortunate child whose dismal fate it was to know himself the last and weakest of his race, and to die young without ever having known youth. ”

“ There is a bitter smile on Flora Desmond’s face, for she knows what ruin would mean.
“Are you looking Corrie Glen over, Lady Flora?” inquires a voice at her elbow. She has no need to turn round to discover the speaker, for she knows the voice full well. It is that of Hector D’Estrange.
He has heard the conversation between Sir Reginald Desmond and his wife, and as the former elbows his way through the crowd, he has pushed forward and sidled into his place by her side.
“Yes, Mr. D’Estrange, I am,” she answers just a shade wearily. “Like every one else, I am looking at the crack. ”

“ Also he was aware that the girl had been present, though in a filmy dress that somehow transformed her from his companion of the lagoon into an ethereal being, infinitely remote. His host was Mr. Desmond's only doubt. His main impressions of the lethargic gentleman at the head of the table were his penetrating eyes and an uncanny ability to draw others without saying anything himself. However, Mr. Desmond retraced his steps down the croton avenue with the air of one who has left a good impression in a desirable quarter. ”