Littell's Living Age/Volume 126/Issue 1629/The Dilemma - Part VII

by George Tomkyns Chesney

From Blackwood's Magazine.

THE DILEMMA.

CHAPTER XVI.

For poor Yorke, returning to Mustaphabad from his pilgrimage in camp, on learning that Olivia was actually married, the outward circumstances of the time were eminently calculated to foster the desire which possessed him to be miserable. He could not, indeed, but admit feeling a pleasurable sensation on finding a well-thatched roof over his head again, and doors to keep out the dust; but life at Mustaphabad was very dismal, and the prospect of living through the monotony of the long hot season seemed, in his temper of mind, utterly dreary. There was nothing to work for, nor work of any sort to be done. Drills were over, and everybody who could get away on any excuse had gone to the hills; some to remain there till October, others, including Spragge, on sixty days' leave — at the end of which time it might be hoped the first fall of rain would have restored parched nature and somewhat bated the heat. A few minutes passed in the sepoys' lines at daybreak sufficed to dispose of all regimental business, when such of the officers as were present with the regiment assembled to drink tea on the shady side of the mess bungalow, and discuss the extremely small points of interest offered by the local papers being chiefly tantalizing accounts of picnics and cricket-matches at the hill-stations, till the advancing sun came over the roof and drove them to the shelter of their respective houses. By this time it would be about seven o'clock. Then the doors are closed to keep out the rising, dust-laden wind, and the solitary occupant of his bungalow has to get through the long day as best he can, trying to read books in which he feels no interest, perhaps trying to kill the hours by sleep, till the western wall of the station racquet-court throws enough shade over it to allow of the players assembling there. This, and the plunge in the station bath, which lies handy to the court, and whither the players' servants repair at sunset with their masters' changes of raiment, is the only part of the day worth living for, the evening mess-dinner being an ordeal to be dreaded, for by this time the different members of the mess have completely thrashed out each other's ideas. "Is this life," thought Yorke, riding slowly to the mess through the dusk, one evening after his bath — "is this life to last forever? Each day so long to spend, so short to look back upon! And this is called a military career! Even study is impossible. I can read no longer for reading's sake — shall I never find any useful work to do?" Nor was his frame of mind made more contented by a letter received that day with the English mail, distributed to the station during the afternoon, which his servant had brought down to the bath-house, and which Yorke read as he dressed after his plunge. It was from his only sister, who lived with his mother in the small but favourite cathedral town of Wiltonbury, and, as usual, was full of the exciting news which such a residence was calculated to supply; the most important item being the arrival of a new incumbent to a proprietary chapel of the town, whom both mother and daughter had met at a tea-party on the previous evening. "He is such a beautiful preacher," said the fair writer, "and evidently a real Christian, which is more than can be said for all the clergyman of the Close, whose service, as Mr. Morgan says, is so much of the senses and so little from the heart. But he prays that his ministrations here may be blessed for good, in the whole place as well as in his parish. He expressed great interest about you, and hoped your profession would not dispose you to worldly-mindedness, but said that temptation was often a means of grace. Indeed, he told us a most interesting anecdote after tea about a young officer, belonging to the Indian army I think he said, who drank himself to death, leaving a wife and six children quite penniless, but whose deathbed was beautifully touching — so much repentance, and such perfect trust and thankfulness to fall asleep. And oh! my dearest Arthur, when I think of all the temptations you are exposed to in the dissipations of an Indian cantonment, with its gaiety and elegant mess-rooms and billiard-tables and smoking, I often tremble lest they should be too great a burden for you to bear. But, as Mr. Morgan says, we must put our trust above, and all will be for the best.

"We have had a sad example here, which brought you very forcibly to our minds. Young Johnny Mills, who had such a splendid opening in the county bank, has become dreadfully dissipated; they say he is to be seen standing about the Red Lion at all hours of the night, and then late in coming in to business in the morning, till the manager has threatened to dismiss him if he is late again. Poor Mrs. Mills and the girls are in dreadful trouble about him. As mamma truly says, it seems quite providential now he was not allowed to carry his attentions further. And now, my ever dearest brother, with heartfelt prayers for your happiness in this world and the next, ever your fondly attached sister,

"Rebecca Yorke,"

"This may be a scene of trial, if not exactly of temptation," thought the young man, with a bitter smile, as he looked round the mess-table after the cloth was removed, and surveyed the company — Major Dumble the commandant in the centre, with his hookah, last relic of a bygone age, and his tumbler of cold brandy-and-water, the rest with cigars, and the black bottles before them containing such portions of beer as remained over from dinner; Brevet-Major Passey, who was living en garçon at the mess, his wife and daughter having gone to the hills; Grumbull, the doctor, doing likewise in the absence of his family in England, with a guest seated by him, a young medical friend, who was passing through Mustaphabad on his way to join his regiment; Captain Braddon puffing his cigar, grim and silent; Braywell, the only other lieutenant present; Ensign Dobson, and little Johnny Raugh, the junior of his grade, who had just been appointed to the regiment, and was greatly impressed with a sense of the fastness of military life as typified by the 76th N. I. The servants had left the room, dimly lighted by oil-wicks in glasses attached to the bare whitewashed walls, and the punkah, pulled by a sleepy man in the veranda, flapped languidly to and fro.

"Well, boys," said Major Dumble, a large, stout man, looking round the table with an amiably stupid expression on his face, "what's the news to-day?"

"Can't expect any news, major," replied Dobson, "in this awful dull place. Dullest station ever was in, I think," added the young man yawning — "wish the hot weather were over."

"Well, I rather like the hot weather," observed the major, blandly; "there's no drill, for one thing." Here a languid smile possessed the company, all except the visitor, who did not take the joke; and the major recovering himself added, "At least drill in moderation is very well, but I must say I enjoy the long days; plenty of time to one's self, and no interruptions. I like to have time to turn round in."

As Major Dumble was known not to possess a book in his house, save the Bengal Army List and the Military Pay Code, and was not burdened with correspondence of any sort, his day in his bungalow must unquestionably have afforded him ample time wherein to perform that operation. But it was generally understood that the worthy commandant of the 76th distributed his time pretty equally between refreshing naps, discussing bazaar gossip with his servants, and feeding his poultry, the major being a connoisseur in fowls, and supplying his surplus stock in a friendly way to the mess at cost price.

"Oh, it's all very well for you, major," continued Dobson, "who have all the business of the regiment to look after, but I'm blessed if I can get half-an-hour's work a day out of my company. These hot-weather days are disgustingly long; I almost wish sometimes there was a little drill going on, to kill time and give a fellow a little exercise."

"You should play racquets," observed Braddon; "you are sure to go to the bad if you eat three heavy meals a day and don't take exercise."

"Oh, I can't be bothered with racquets," replied the ensign; "it's too much trouble, and makes one so hot."

"Ah yes, these military gentlemen find all play and no work a little tedious," said Grumbull to his friend; "but we medical officers have to work away just the same all the year round; hot weather or cold, no holiday for us."

"How many men have you got in hospital now, doctor?" asked Braddon.

"It isn't the number of patients that make the work," replied Grumbull; "it's the system. One must visit the hospital morning and evening, and all the routine has to be gone through just the same whether the hospital is full or empty; returns to be filled in, and stores to be counted, and all the rest of it. They turn us medical officers into regular clerks," he continued to his friend, "as you will find when you come to have medical charge of a regiment."

"Yes, it is quite like cutting grindstones with razors," said Braddon; "you ought to have a secretary, at the least, to keep the medical accounts of the regiment, so that you might give your undivided attention to your five sick patients. That is the number in to-day's return, I think."

"You are very satirical, as usual," replied Grumbull; "but I think when a man has had a scientific education and taken a university degree, he might be trusted to issue an ounce of quinine, or a scrap of lint, without filling up a return in duplicate."

"Ah, I can't go with you there, doctor," broke in the major; "where you have stores, there you must in course have returns, — else how are you to audit? As old Counter, the late auditor-general, a precious long-headed fellow he was too, used always to say, 'Show me a voucher, and then I shall know where I am.' Why, bless me!" continued Dumble, with enthusiasm, as reminiscences of his former occupation crowded upon his memory, "when I was in the pay department, I have had as many as five hundred vouchers passing through my office in a week; and never an arrear of any sort, either, everything audited up to within fifteen months of date."

"So you are a university man," said the young guest of the evening to his host; "Edinburgh, I suppose?"

"No, Aberdeen."

"Ah, well, no doubt, a university degree is a very nice thing — it gives a stamp to a man, so to speak; but I think nowadays the rising men in the profession go more to the London hospitals, and come out as M.R.C.S. That is what I did myself. There are so many openings, you see, for a fellow who makes a name for himself in the hospitals — dresserships and clinical lectureships, and what not. Both Fiston and Thelusson wanted me to stop on in London," added the young man, modestly, "but I was anxious to see something of the world, and to investigate some forms of tropical diseases, so I look an assistant-surgeonship. I am very anxious myself to get some experience of cholera, for example. Where is one likely to meet with it, do you think?"

"You need be under no anxiety on that score, sir," said Braddon; "you will find it very accommodating and ready to wait upon you wherever you are."

"By the way," said the young medical man, turning to his host, "have you read O'Hara on cholera? Just out, you know, published by Churchill & Co."

"No, I haven't," replied Grumbull; "and, what is more, I don't mean to. I don't want O'Hara or anybody else to tell me what cholera is, — me a man who has been twenty years in the country."

"I suppose, then, you go in for the germ theory?"

"No, I don't believe in germs (Dr. Grumbull pronounced this word as if it were spelt jurrums), or any new-fangled stuff of the sort. Look here, my good sir," he continued, bringing down his hand with a thump on the mess-table, "you have cholera on the plains of Bengal, and you have cholera on the highlands of Thibet, fifteen thousand feet above the sea, haven't you? Well, then, I say, isn't the thing as plain as a pike-staff? It's the variations of temperature that cause cholera, of course, and I don't care what anybody else says."

"The cholera is an awful thing when it breaks out in a European regiment," observed the major after a pause.

"Have you ever served with a European regiment, sir?" asked the stranger, turning towards him.

"No, sir; and never wish to. The European soldier is a queer customer sometimes, I can tell you. I heard once of a man in the old Diehards; the captain of his company was finding fault with him because his knapsack wasn't straight, and he turned round and bawled out, 'I haven't got eyes in the back of my head, have I?' Now no sepoy would have answered his officer like that."

"Ah, and do you remember that story of Poynings and the European gunner at the siege of Bhurtpore?" said Major Passey, a small, weatherbeaten old fellow, with a red face and white hair, who had remained silent up to this point.

"Ah, what a fine man Poynings was!" continued the commandant. "He exchanged out of the 19th Lancers when they went home in 1832, into the 23d Dragoons."

"No, the 22d Dragoons," said Passey, in correction; "the 23d went home in '33."

"Ay, so it was. Poynings was commanding the 22d at Cawnpore, when we were there in 1834. He would sit at mess over the bottle till gunfire the next morning, and then his charger would be brought to the door, and he would ride off to parade as steady and fresh as if he had been in bed all night. He was a man of very good family, too, was Poynings; he had a cousin an Irish peer. Ah, those were fine times! wheat was down then to forty seers, and you might keep a horse for five rupees a month. The 22d lost a hundred men from cholera that very year."

"Ah, what a splendid corps the 22d was!" observed Passey, after a pause, by way of keeping up the conversation.

"It was indeed," said the major. "Cawnpore was a fine station in those days for a young fellow to learn his duty at; brigade-parades and grand guard-mounting regularly once a month, all through the cold weather. Old General Mudge was commanding the division. He died in 1836. It was thought he would have got into council if he had lived."

"Wasn't it Mudge who had the row with Poynings, because he inspected the 22d in his carriage?" asked Passey.

"Yes, to be sure, so it was. Mudge couldn't ride, you know; he had been in the stud department for a great many years; but he spoke the language like a native. Only fancy, he was a regimental field-officer when Lord Lake was commander-in-chief."

"There's a fine picture of Lord Lake at Government House in Calcutta," observed Passey.

"Ay, and of Warren Hastings too," continued the major. "When I entered the service, the colonel of my battalion (we were the second battalion of the 38th then) had known Warren Hastings. He remembers seeing him arrive at Calcutta from up country, and get out of his palanquin, with silk stockings on, and buckles on his shoes. Only think, silk stockings and buckles in a palanquin! Dear me! what changes one sees in dress, to be sure!" continued Dumble, philosophically. "How do you like the new tunic, Passey?"

"Have there been many changes in the uniform of the army since you entered the service, major?" asked young Raugh, to whom the subject of dress was one at present of leading interest, and to whom it had been a blow and disappointment, on joining the regiment a few weeks before, to find that the officers had already taken to white jackets, and that there would be no opportunity of airing his brand-new scarlet coatee till the next cold season.

"Changes! I believe you," replied his commanding officer. "Why, when I went to wait on the Marquess of Hastings on first arrival, with a letter of introduction — it was from Hambrowe & Co., the great wine-merchants — they supplied his lordship; my father used to get his wine from them too, and very good wine it was; — well, when I waited on Lord Hastings, he was sitting at his desk in full uniform, with his cocked-hat on the table before him — and that in the middle of the hot weather too!"

"Ay," said Passey, in support of this statement, "I can remember, too, when I came out — that was in Lord Amherst's time — the adjutant-general used to sit in his office in uniform all day."

"Oh yes! Lord Amherst, he was a good governor-general enough," said Dumble, a little testily, as if impatient at this interruption to the logical sequence of his thoughts; "but he wasn't nearly so fine-looking a man as Lord Hastings. Lord Hastings was commander-in-chief as well as governor-general, and commanded in the Mahratta campaigns. Then there was Lady Hastings too. She was a countess in her own right."

"Talking of campaigns," broke in Braywell, whose comparative youth had prevented him from taking a share in these interesting reminiscences, and who had been maintaining his enforced silence with visible impatience, — "talking of campaigns — it is just a year since we finished the Sontalia campaign."

"Was your regiment in the Sontalia campaign, sir?" asked the young surgeon.

"No, not the regiment," replied Braywell; "I was there on the staff — baggage-master to the right column; and precious little I have got for it either. Here I am back again on regimental duty; might just as well have never gone down there. Yes; this was the very day of the battle of Deoghur, and a very hot affair it was."

"Must have been," observed Braddon, "with the hot winds blowing."

"You're such a fellow for chaff, Braddon," remonstrated Braywell; "you know what I mean perfectly well. I was on the right of the line, with the brigadier; there was a detachment of the 84th N.I. there, and things were looking awkward. The jungle was so thick you couldn't see twenty yards ahead of you, and the arrows and spears were coming in like paint. I never saw anything like it. Our fellows were at it for about four hours, and must have fired full fifty rounds or more before the enemy gave way. They were there in swarms, but not a man showing himself, the crafty villains — most determined fellows — and their arrows coming in like paint ——"

"Was anybody in the gallant detachment killed or wounded?" asked Braddon.

"Their arrows coming in like paint ——" continued Braywell, — too intent on the pleasure of securing a new listener to heed the interruption.

"Oh, confound it! I can't stand this," said Braddon in a low voice to Yorke — "we have had this fifty times before; come along and have a cigar outside." So saying, he rose from the mess-table, and Yorke followed, leaving the two veterans dozing over their brandy-and-water — young Raugh sitting opposite to Braywell, with wide-open eyes, listening with unabated attention to the oft-told tale of the battle of Deoghur, while the young assistant surgeon, leaning back in his chair, and running his hand through his fine head of hair, was also attending with as much interest as could reasonably be expected from a scientific mind occupied for the moment with mere military topics.

CHAPTER XVII.

Yorke had of late become somewhat intimate with Braddon. The latter was a disappointed man, remanded not long before from the headquarter staff to regimental duty; and his temper, soured by the misfortune which had marred a career of promise, rather jumped with the young man's present frame of mind. Yorke indeed was the only man in the regiment who saw anything of Braddon except on duty or at the mess, and he would often pass some of his long hours in the other's bungalow, in desultory talk or reading the books with which Braddon was well supplied. It was, however, only during the day that they met, Braddon usually passed his evenings alone, and although no one in the regiment had ever seen him the worse for drink, rumour had it that the vice which it was supposed had been the cause of his downfall was becoming a confirmed habit, and that he seldom went sober to bed. On the present occasion, however, Braddon proposed a move into his compound, where on the gravel space before the veranda were a couple of lounging-chairs and a low table with bottles and glasses, and, seating himself, invited his companion to take a cheroot and glass of brandy-and-water. Yorke accepted the cheroot, but declined the other refreshment, and the two began talking.

The conversation turned naturally on late events and the temper of the army, for already there had been hangings and disbandments. At the mess-table the subject was avoided, because some of the servants understood English; but in private little else was now talked about.

"Braywell, after all, is no worse than others, with his tomfoolery about hot fire, and gallant conduct, and the rest of it," observed Braddon, at one point of the conversation. "It is merely what he has been brought up to. Look at the way in which Lord Ellenborough belauded the troops which did not surrender in Afghanistan or had the pluck to face the enemy in the open. That wasn't the way old Lord Lake and the duke went to work. We have gone on pampering and buttering up the sepoy whenever he does his duty, till really one might suppose it was the recognized business of a soldier to run away, and quite a surprising and creditable circumstance if he does not. Every little skirmish, too, nowadays is magnified into a great battle."

"Still we had our real battles too," said Yorke. "Surely there has seldom been harder fighting anywhere than in the Sutlej campaign."

"But the sepoys did run away then; at any rate a great many of them did, and a good many Europeans too. For the matter of that Europeans know how to run away very freely sometimes, but then there is this difference between them and the sepoy, that they are always thoroughly ashamed of themselves, and ready to come up to the scratch again fresher than ever; but at the end of the first day at Ferozshah the sepoys had got the heart pretty well taken out of them; Lord Hardinge clubbed what European troops he could get together next morning and went in at the enemy; and if that handful of men had not been game, we should have been driven out of the country. There were no reserves to speak of."

"And yet the sepoys have fought well at times."

"Yes, and will fight well again if kept in order. The sepoy is a brave fellow enough — no man faces death, as a rule, with more indifference when he is in the humour; but you can't expect mercenary troops to fight properly without discipline."

"But don't you think the discipline, on the whole, is good? Where would you find less crime in an army, or better conduct?"

"Well, they don't drink," said Braddon, bitterly, "and so have no cause to misbehave; and they are obedient enough, no doubt, so long as you don't give them any orders."

"How not give them any orders?"

"Oh, of course, so long as you give them any customary orders, which they think proper, they will obey you readily enough. If a parade is ordered for tomorrow morning, I daresay you will find all the men there. But tell them to do anything they don't like — to intrench themselves on a campaign, for example, or to use a new kind of cartridge, or to march to a bad part of the country out of their turn — and then see the sort of fashion in which you are obeyed. It wasn't so long ago that our own noble regiment refused to go on a campaign for the precious reason that they had just come off a campaign. Or meet the sepoy of another regiment off duty, and see if he treats you as a soldier should behave to an officer. No; discipline has departed from the Bengal army this long time, and small blame to it. Everybody in office, from the governor-general and commander-in-chief downwards, has been doing his best for years past to undermine it, taking away power from commanding officers in one direction, and adding privileges in the other, till there is nothing left to hang any discipline upon, and the wonder is that the machine keeps together at all. Your commanding officers are mere dummies to take charge of the parade and draw a certain amount of pay; just as well perhaps that they are no more, considering the sort of creatures some of them are. Poor old Dumble, for example, isn't exactly the sort of man to put much responsibility upon."

"But how is it that the authorities are blind to this state of things, if it is so bad as you make out?"

"They are not blind; at any rate, not all of them. Lord Hardinge, who was a thorough soldier if ever there was one, saw plainly enough what a rotten state we were in. One day after the battle of Sobraon, when the staff were talking rather freely about the behaviour of certain regiments, he turned round and said — I was about headquarters, then, you know: 'I can tell you what, gentlemen, the next enemy you will have to fight is your own army.' And his words will come true, if we don't look out."

"Then do you really think there is any danger of the whole army ever turning against us?"

"I don't know exactly about that. The native officers and the old soldiers will hardly be such fools as to throw up their pensions, and then the Hindoos and Mussulmans wouldn't care to row in the same boat, so that there are a good many chances in our favour; but I confess I should like to see every native regiment cut down to eight hundred strong, and half-a-dozen more European regiments ordered out."

Yorke noticed that while they were talking, Braddon had more than once filled his glass. This was the first time he had been witness to the habit in which it was suspected by the regiment that the latter indulged, and he would fain have interposed with a word of caution and remonstrance. But a sense of delicacy restrained him at first, and now his companion was beyond remonstrance. His voice had become thicker; and when, a few minutes later, Yorke got up to go away, he was becoming indistinct in his utterance and loud in his denunciation of the authorities; and the young man went off to his bungalow sad at heart at witnessing the falling away of his brother officer, good soldier and clever man as he was, and with the latter's forebodings about the future of the army still in his ears. Braddon and Falkland had used almost the same words. Was, then, the confidence he had expressed to Miss Cunningham in the loyally of his regiment a mere foolish infatuation, as baseless as his dream of gaining her love?

CHAPTER XVIII.

A few more idle days were passed in the torpor of heat and false security, before the great storm broke out, engulfing at once some of the small European communities in India scattered over the country, surprised and defenceless, while others for a time endured only the bitterness of expectation. Rumours of the outbreak at Meerut and Delhi reached Mustaphabad in a few hours, and to the horror and indignation aroused by the first news, there soon followed unspeakable dread and suspense as the tidings came from one station after another of treacherous risings and murder and anarchy, and those who had so far escaped felt that the same catastrophe might at any moment overtake themselves. Here, as in every place where there were both white and black troops, the gravity of the situation was vastly aggravated by the difficulty of framing a plan of action; for to make preparations might have been to accelerate the outbreak. And the position of the officers of the native regiments was peculiarly embarrassing; for while they seemed to be regarded by the rest of the community as if in some way unwittingly the cause of the calamity, and shared for the time the odium aroused by the misconduct of the sepoys in other places, they for their part were not only precluded by their position from taking the precautions which the other European residents made, against a treacherous outbreak of their men — they would also certainly be the first victims. Right bravely, however, they faced the danger, professing unlimited confidence in their men — a confidence which, whatever they felt, they exemplified by sending their beds down to the parade-ground, and sleeping there unarmed in front of the men's huts on the edge of the plain, the armed sentries marching to and fro beside them. And at times, indeed, when talking to the men — men who had never before been otherwise than docile and respectful, it seemed impossible to doubt their protestations of loyalty, their declarations even of detestation at the conduct of the regiments which had mutinied, and their professions of eagerness to be led against the common enemy. And yet a change had come over them which could not but be observed — a certain sullenness of manner, a look as if of suspicion that they were suspected, which the officers in vain endeavoured by their own appearance of confidence to ignore. Nobody else, however, expressed any confidence in the sepoys, or hesitated to avow the expectation that sooner or later they would follow the example of the mutineers elsewhere; and the officers of the hussars and European artillery were all for marching down on the native lines and disarming the sepoys by force, with sabres and grape ad libitum if the latter should show their teeth; and Brigadier Polwheedle, who was ready to hear advice from every one who offered it, although quite unable to make up his mind about it, received numerous proposals to this effect from the self-constituted critics of the situation; for military etiquette had disappeared for a time under the first excitement of the crisis, and people walked in and out of the brigade-office as if it were a tap-room. The brigadier, however, at this juncture was disabled from active duty by a fall from his grey cob, which had happened three weeks before, causing fracture of the small bone of the leg; and the command of the station practically devolved on Colonel Tartar. Tartar was a man of decision; but while the European force at his disposal consisted only of cavalry and artillery, he was desirous of avoiding extreme measures which might precipitate an outbreak of so large a body of sepoys. In ten days a regiment of European infantry and another of Ghoorkhas, with a supply of ammunition, would arrive at Mustaphabad, when it was his intention to disarm the native regiments, and then, having made his rear safe, to march with the remainder of his force to what was now the seat of war. Meanwhile the needful measures were hurried on for taking the field, and all the soldiers' wives and children were sent off in bullock-carts to the hills, under escort of the few European soldiers who were not fit for active service, and a detachment of the nawab's troops, who were believed to be stanch. Most of the married officers took advantage of the opportunity to send off their families also.

During this time the outward aspect of the place remained unchanged; during the day-time the roads bore the same deserted aspect as usual, and the fierce hot wind had them to itself, while at sunset the residents took their customary ride or drive along the mall. But in the European barracks the guards were strengthened, and strong pickets were always on duty, while the hussars and artillery horses stood saddled in their stables. The miscellaneous European residents were all privately warned to make their way to the hussar barracks if any firing should be heard; and a cordon of observation was drawn between the European and native lines, the officers of the native regiments remaining alone with their suspected sepoys. Their tents were pitched with those of the men on the regimental parades, for the native regiments had been formally warned that they were to make part of the field force, and the officers had sent their baggage to the camp and slept there every night; but they still spent the days in their bungalows to avoid the fierce May heat, and dined in their respective mess-houses — for even among men expecting to be murdered, the formalities of life must be gone through. Ten weary, dreary days. In the European quarters there was plenty to be done, for the camp-equipment of Europeans is multifarious, and hot-weather campaigning-clothes had to be improvised; but the sepoy's wants are simple and few, and after the tents were duly pitched and camels provided for carrying them, there was little remaining to be done; and the days passed slowly enough for the officers in their bungalows, now looking cheerless and dismantled, or in the mess-house discussing such items of news as found their way to Mustaphabad despite interrupted posts and telegraphs — news ever growing blacker; simulating a confidence which no one felt, talking over the details of the duty which they professed to have before them, of leading their men against the mutineers, to wipe out the stain which rested on the army; half hoping that their particular regiments might prove an exception to the rule of treachery then paramount, half expecting to be shot down suddenly, unarmed and defenceless.

"They have got a capital opportunity for polishing us off this evening, if they want to do so," observed Spragge, cheerily, who with all other officers on leave had rejoined at the first tidings of the outbreak, as they sat down to mess-dinner on the first evening of his return; "half-a-dozen of them could do the trick nicely, if they feel so disposed; "but the joke fell somewhat flat — this particular fate of a massacre while at the mess-table having already befallen the officers of another regiment down country; the suggestion was considered ill-timed in the presence of the servants, who might understand what was said; moreover, the mess-orderly sepoy was standing in the veranda — and the dinner passed off without any further attempt at jests or badinage.

One morning, after more than a week had dragged itself out in this fashion, Yorke received orders to march to the residency with two companies to strengthen the guard there. In the state of combined suspense and monotony which made up life at that time, a movement of any sort was an acceptable change. Everything being ready for marching, the detachment started half-an-hour after the order was received; and Yorke, as he mounted his horse to follow it, was for the moment in good spirits, although he could not but be struck by the change in the European mode of life made in the last ten days, as typified by the manner of his march. When last he set out for the residency, the authorities had been careful to choose the cool of the evening for the march. Now it was made in the full glare of a May sun at mid-day. And as he rode along in the rear of the detachment, and to windward of it to keep out of the dust made by the men's feet, it came upon him suddenly that he had been untrue to the memory of his love. During the last ten days his thoughts had scarcely once been occupied with the past; was this, he thought bitterly, to be the end of the great passion he had been hugging to his breast, and was it fear or excitement that had deadened his senses? But now, as he drew near the house, his old feelings came up again. Yet no! not the same feelings. To cherish a common sort of love for the woman who could now never be his, would, he felt, be desecration. She must now be, it seemed to him, as a saint to be worshipped rather than a woman to be loved, and his heart bounded at the thought that he might now have the opportunity of proving his devotion in a way that could give no offence to the purest mind. Yet he did not even know if she were still at the residency, or whether she had been sent away with the other ladies to a place of safety in the hills.

The detachment marched into the residency enclosure, and halted in the same place where Yorke had encamped before — the very spot of which, only three months ago, Olivia had made the pretty sketch, and when Yorke, standing by her while she plied her brush, had bewailed the monotony of military life, audits want of reality. No want of reality now, at any rate, and the only monotony that of suspense. Letting the detachment pile arms and break off, to take shelter under the trees which skirted the park wall, Yorke walked across the grounds to the house, under the portico of which divers scarlet-coated attendants were lounging as usual, and followed the man who went forward to announce him into the house. As he entered the large drawing-room, Mrs. Falkland came out of a side room and advanced to meet him. It was just here that they parted the last time he saw her, when he went off, credulous young fool, burning with love and elate with hope, to be crushed to the earth presently with shame and despair. But three short months had passed, and now hope and love had been crushed together — and yet not love. Yorke felt in his heart that his love for the beautiful woman before him was as deep as ever; but he felt also with honest pride that it was love of a different kind; that for the future devotion must be given without acknowledgment or return; and, mingled with his anxiety at seeing her thus exposed to the threatening danger, was a feeling of elation that he might be near to share, perhaps even to shield her from it.

As Olivia came forward, Yorke noticed that she looked paler, and the rich colour and tasteful ornaments in which she had been wont to attire herself were replaced by a simple white muslin dress trimmed with a little blue ribbon, in keeping with the weather, but which made her, he thought, look taller and thinner. But he thought her also lovelier than ever.

Olivia blushed slightly, as she came forward and held out her hand. Did she at all guess what wild work she had made with his poor heart? "You have come with the troops, I suppose?" she said; "my husband is very anxious to see you; will you step into his room?" And she led the way to Colonel Falkland's office.

Falkland was writing at a table in his shirt-sleeves, for the heat was intense, and the punkah was not at work. Hot though it was, Yorke thought he would never have sat down in that guise before Mrs. Falkland, if she had been his wife. The colonel held out his hand to greet him, but without rising. He wanted Yorke and his detachment, he said, to strengthen the residency guard. The greater part of the treasure had been sent into cantonments for the use of the field force about to march, but there were still about three lakhs of rupees — a considerable temptation to the roughs in the city, who were quite ready to rise on the smallest provocation, but would keep quiet so long as the troops on guard remained stanch, which they would probably do, so long as the main body at headquarters stuck by their colours. What did Yorke think about his own regiment?

Yorke said that they were well-conducted and steady enough so far, but he could not help admitting that a change had come over the manner of the sepoys, as in men who knew they were suspected, and deserved to be, after the treachery displayed at other places. Still, foolish though it might be, he could not help believing that they would prove an exception to the wholesale treachery everywhere manifested.

"Well, everything depends on General Slough; he has been sent down to take command, and arrived in cantonments this morning. And yet not everything. A blockhead may easily precipitate matters, but a Hannibal could not keep the sepoys from mutiny if they are bent on it. I am going down to cantonments presently to see what plans are determined upon, as soon as I can get my letter-writing done. This is the misfortune for us civilians," continued the colonel, looking wearily over his table covered with papers;" we have to be writing when we ought to be acting. I have been sitting here quill-driving ever since day break, and have not got through half the work yet. There are fifty things still to be done for the troops, and expresses to be sent in all directions."

"Cannot I act as your private secretary, sir?" asked Yorke; "I shall only be too happy to be of use."

"Thank you very much, my dear boy, but I think you should keep by the treasury with your men just for the present. Here is my private secretary," he added, taking his wife's right hand, as she stood beside him, with his left, without looking up; and as Yorke quitted the room to join his detachment, he thought to himself that he could never have ventured to make her his drudge, or to holdout a left hand in that way. With him she must always have been as one superior, to be treated like a queen; and he could not but admit in his state of self-abasement that Falkland was the more fitting husband for such a bride. Yet what a honeymoon for her!

Passing out of the portico, Yorke met Captain Sparrow coming on foot towards the house, and they stopped to exchange a few words, standing on the brown surface, which at that season did duty for grass, in the full blaze of the mid-day sun. Sparrow was pale and anxious and excited, nor had the arrival of the detachment tended to reassure him. It was perfect madness of Falkland, he exclaimed, to send for more sepoys, and to think of holding the place by force, instead of giving up the residency and falling back on cantonments. The troops were to march eastward that night, and then the city would rise, and they would all be murdered, as sure as fate. "He won't even agree," continued the captain, "to my giving up my own house and joining him in the residency, lest it should seem to invite a rising; and for the same reason he wouldn't send Mrs. Falkland away. It's all very well to show a bold front, but to my mind a few reasonable precautions would be better. I don't fancy being caught like a rat in a trap. All this pretence of confidence where you don't feel any seems simple infatuation. But it is no good remonstrating with him." And so saying. Sparrow passed on into the house.

The court-house, which Yorke had to guard — a long one-storeyed building with an arched veranda on each side, situated on the open plain a short distance beyond the residency enclosure-wall — was not this day the scene of much business, the commissioner being absent in the cantonments, and Captain Sparrow too busy, as he said, to attend, so that only the East-Indian assistant was present to conduct the treasury routine; and the suitors who, having come out from the city, seemed disposed as they were there to make a day of it, sat squatting for the most part under the clumps of trees which surrounded the building, where also their ponies and the bullocks which had conveyed their carriages were tethered, discussing like the rest of the world the news of the day, momentous enough in itself, and not likely to have lost in importance from being retailed through the country by word of mouth; and Yorke fancied that they looked curiously at him as he passed by at the head of his men, as if wondering languidly how soon the latter would set on him.

As soon as the camel-borne tents came up, Yorke had them pitched under these trees; and, having posted his sentries in the veranda of the rooms occupied by the treasure, he passed the day himself in the commissioner's waiting-room. Society was still so far organized that punkah-pullers were obtained; but it was symptomatic of the state of the times that the attendants had forgotten to lower the rush-blinds according to custom, so that the room swarmed with flies. At one o'clock his servant brought luncheon, cooked under a tree; but the beer was almost as hot as the curry; and flies, heat, and suspense combined, made eating almost impossible. Thus went the long day, Yorke ever and anon scanning the prospect from the veranda, looking through the trees towards the residency to see if he could trace aught of what was happening to its inmates. It seemed impossible to realize the condition of affairs. Life all around was as quiet as ever. The sepoys not on guard lay undressed and asleep in their tents; such of the suitors as had remained were for the most part also asleep under the trees; the different court-messengers were trying to get to sleep on the shady side of the veranda. Towards the residency not a soul was stirring. Even the crows were overcome by the fierce afternoon heat, and sat still on the boughs with their beaks open, gasping for breath. And yet how enviable his position at present compared with that of so many of his countrymen, who, if still alive, were wandering outcasts over these burnt-up plains, struggling under the fierce heat to find some place of shelter! And his turn was coming. Yet could it be that peaceful aspect was the forerunner of another such tragedy as had already occurred in other parts of India? The events of the past three months — the races and balls and other small events which then made up the business of life — seemed already to have faded away into the distance like a dream. The monotonous peace of those times had been found fault with as dreary and dull; how gladly would such dulness be welcomed back again in place of the dread expectancy of their present state! And, thought the young man bitterly at times, am I not to be permitted to have even the chance of dying like a man after striking a blow in self-defence — must it be my fate to wait here inactive till it is my turn to be shot down like a dog? Then again to these despondent feelings would succeed a sensation almost of joy, as he recollected where he was, and that he had come back near to the presence of his old love; could it be, after all, that their fates were bound together?

CHAPTER XIX.

At last the long hot day began to wear to an end; and towards evening Yorke saw Colonel Falkland's carriage drive up under the residency portico, whence presently a messenger came to summon him.

He found the colonel standing on the gravel walk outside the house, apparently to avoid eavesdroppers, talking with Sparrow and Maxwell the doctor. He looked grave and anxious. "I am telling our friends here," he said, when Yorke came up to them, "the result of the council of war held in cantonments this afternoon. It was about as unsatisfactory as such councils always are. It is a thousand pities that Tartar was superseded. General Slough is an old woman. There were two straightforward courses to pursue. Either disarm the sepoys at once, boldly shooting them down if they resisted; or else take them with the field force, and show confidence in them. This would be the only chance of keeping them stanch. Old Slough has decided on a middle course, which will certainly fail, as all middle courses do. One regiment of native infantry is to be sent to Johtuck, nominally to guard the treasure there, in reality to get it out of the way; another is to go to Meharunpoor, for the same reason; the third is to stay here. Of course the sepoys see through this; in fact it is an invitation to them to mutiny and take themselves off. They march for their destination tonight; the Europeans march at two o'clock to-morrow morning, leaving the 80th N.I. behind; and we have about twenty-four hours to prepare before the rising which will now certainly take place.

"Well, now, to business. We at any rate must stick to our posts, and stand by the nawab, who is really behaving very well, under great temptation to do otherwise, to the last. I have arranged with the people in cantonments that this house shall be the rendezvous. Every house there is thatched; and there is not a defensible hole or corner in the place. Brigadier Polwheedle is there still, not being fit to travel, and his wife, Buxey the paymaster, and one or two others; and there will be the officers of the 80th, if they can get away. The nawab has proposed that we should occupy his palace, which is a very strong place; but that is on the other side of the city, and the people from cantonments might never be able to reach it. This house is substantial, and stands well in the open; and if we have only time to get ready, we may be able to hold out here till relief comes. I should have wished to begin preparations ten days ago; but as long as there was a chance of saving things by keeping up appearances, I was bound to hold my hand. All that has been done so far is to store some food. A part has been brought in already, and the nawab has a further supply at my disposal.

"You might arrange, Maxwell, to bring in some medicines to-night. Take my cart and fill it up with the needful things from the dispensary.

"I want you. Sparrow, to go to the palace at once with a message to the nawab. No," he continued, noticing the expression on his assistant's face, "I think there is much less danger of coming to grief if you ride through the city at night than if you go by day. Just step aside for a moment, and I will explain what has to be said.

"Now then," said the colonel, returning to where Yorke stood, after despatching his unwilling messenger, "let us arrange what has to be done to-morrow, for there is not a moment to be lost. It is unfortunate that we have no engineers here, to show us how the house might be retrenched; this is one of the occasions that come up in life to reproach us for past idleness and opportunities lost; and you, Yorke, I believe, did not go through Addiscombe; but I know you are a great military student. What are your ideas as to the best way of fortifying the residency?"

"There couldn't be a better house in India for the purpose, sir. Have you any spare treasure-bags over at the treasury? "

"Hundreds."

"Then let us have them filled with earth in the morning, and block up the verandas with sandbag walls; also the portico in the same way. The bushes in the garden near the house should be cut down, so as to destroy cover. The stables are a long way off, but unless they are occupied, and loopholed on the other side, the enemy might collect to any amount behind them and in them. Occupying them, the residency itself would not be exposed to fire on that side."

"True; and we should save the horses as long as we can — we may want them. Poor Kathleen, I should be sorry if she were to change hands without value received, and become the property of a general of rebels. But I think the stables are too far off to include in our scheme of defence."

"Well, then, sir, don't you think we ought to include Sparrow's house, at any rate? It is within easy musket-shot of your own, and would be very troublesome if occupied by an enemy; whereas, if we are in possession of it, there is open ground beyond, and we should in fact cover another front of our main fortress with a strong outpost."

"True; but think how this would weaken the garrison. And we don't even know yet whether we shall have a garrison. At best we shall not be more than a mere handful. No; I think we shall have quite enough to do with the main building. Let us concentrate our resources on that."

There was some further discussion about the arrangements for the morrow, and then Yorke wished the colonel goodnight, refusing his offer of dinner (it was now nine o'clock, and quite dark), although he would fain have taken another look at Olivia's anxious face; but, just as he was leaving, he turned back and said —

"Excuse the liberty, sir, but is it too late even now to send Mrs. Falkland to some place of safety?"

"Some place of safety! Where is such a spot to be found? I know of only one — the centre of the European force which is to march from cantonments to-night. But my wife could not ask for a privilege denied to the other ladies. Besides, the troops will have enough to do by themselves, without being encumbered with women and children."

"I feel sorry," added the young man with some hesitation, "that you did not send her to the hills with the escort that went a few days ago."

"Yes," replied Falkland, slowly, and looking down on the ground; "I suppose a man seldom has his duty put before him in such form as to require him to sacrifice what is dearer to him than his own life. It seems both careless and selfish to have kept her here, does it not? But it looked at one time as if everything would depend on our showing a bold front in every direction; and if the commissioner had manifested want of confidence by sending his wife away, he might have turned the balance. At least so it seemed to me at the time. Poor child!" he added, as if speaking to himself, "she is hardly conscious of her heroism, or what it has cost her husband to allow her to practise it. Had I known that the people in cantonments would be such fatuous blockheads, I might have acted differently. But it is useless to indulge in regrets. There is nothing to be done but to keep up a bold front to await the crash as best we may.

"Then do you think, sir, that it is quite certain the rest of the army will follow suit and go?"

"I do; all the supposed safeguards have failed us so far. Hindoos and Mohammedans have not shown the jealousy of each other that was expected; and the native officers, who had the strongest inducements to be faithful, seem to be taking the lead everywhere. And although several regiments are holding back for a time, not one has shown a distinct sign of standing by us, or displaying an active part against the mutineers. I expect we shall have the whole army on us sooner or later, although it may be by degrees."

"Then what chance have we against such numbers with our handful of Europeans?"

"Not much, apparently. But a good deal may be hoped for from luck, and the blunders the villains may be trusted to make. Already they have made a great mistake in not rising at the same time everywhere. Of course, my dear boy," continued the colonel, laying his hand on Yorke's shoulder, "you will not repeat what I say. I speak plainly to you because I see you are the sort of man to be trusted."

On returning to his little camp by the court-house, Yorke found a note from Spragge awaiting him, brought by a servant who had come out from cantonments with the rest of his things. "We are just starting for Johtuck," said the writer. "The old women who command here have not got the pluck to take us with them, or to disarm us, but send us away because they funk keeping us with the force. Of course the men see through the dodge, and there is a change come over them already. They look as sulky as fiends. If our dear old colonel had been with us still, we might have had a chance; but poor Dumble has gone quite foolish, and is about as fit to have charge of the regiment as a hospital-nurse would be; and we shall have a flare-up before long, and no mistake. I write in an awful hurry. Good-bye, old fellow, and better luck to you than we are likely to have."

Just as Yorke had finished reading the note, the senior native officer of the detachment came up to make his report for the night; the old man's manner was quiet and respectful, as usual, and conveyed no impression that anything was wrong. Dismissing him, Yorke threw off his shell-jacket, and, lying down on the little cot which had been placed in front of the tent, watched the scene before him. A few yards in advance of his own tent was the little line of sepoys' tents, but the men were mostly sleeping outside, to get what air was to be had; a few were sitting in groups, passing the pipe round and talking. In advance was the guard-tent, with two sentries pacing up and down before it. Watching the peaceful scene, and wondering whether it was really to be the precursor of a life's crisis, the young man fell asleep.