Playing with Fire: A Story of the Soudan WarGrant, James
General
Playing with Fire: A Story of the Soudan War
Grant, James
Sudan -- Fiction
Mrs. Lindsay had somehow heard of his sudden, but certainly not
unexpected, visit to Edinburgh, and divined its object, if indeed no
casual rumour had reached her about it; and a smile of derision and
triumph, that would greatly have pleased her obnoxious brother, stole
over her pale and usually calm face when she thought of the utter
futility of Roland's expedition; and something of this emotion in her
eyes was the response to his somewhat crest-fallen aspect when she
met him in the Red Drawing-room on his return.
But he was master of himself, if he was master of nothing more, and
resolved to have a truce, if not a treaty of peace, with 'Deborah
Sharpe,' as he and Maude always called her in her absence.
Strange to say, he found that, outwardly at least, her old animosity,
jealousy, and spirit of defiance were much lessened, though he knew
not the secret cause thereof; but she was a woman, and as he looked
on the deathly pallor of her face, the ill-concealed agitation of her
manner, and thought of the terrible secret disease under which she
laboured, he felt something of pity for her, that was for the time
both genuine and generous.
'You look pale,' said he gently as he took her hand and led her to a
sofa, adjusting a cushion at her back; 'I hope you have not been
exciting yourself about the state of my friend Elliot; Jack will be
all right in a few days now.'
The soft grace of his manner and sweetness of his tone (common to him
when addressing all women) impressed her greatly; her own brother,
Hawkey Sharpe, never spoke thus, even when seeking his incessant
monetary favours. If the latter watched her pallor or detected
illness, his observation was rendered acute, not by fraternal
tenderness, but by selfishness and ulterior views of his own; thus
Roland's bearing vanquished, for a time at least, her innate dislike
of him, for it is an idiosyncrasy in the hearts of many to dislike
and fear those they have wronged or supplanted.
Thus Roland was superior to her.
'A more glorious victory cannot be gained over another than this,'
says Tillotson; 'when the injury began on their part, the kindness
should begin on ours.'
'I hope you have secured medical advice as to the state of your
health?' said he after a little pause, and with a nameless courtesy
in his attitude.
'Thank you so much for your kindness, Roland.' (She usually called
him 'Captain Lindsay.') 'Just now you remind me so much of your
father; and this is the anniversary of the day when he met with his
terrible accident, and his horse threw him,' she added, looking not
at him, but past him; yet the woman's usually hard disposition was
suddenly moved by the touch of nature that 'makes the whole world
kin.'
'Like my father, you think?' said Roland coldly.
'Yes--and for _his_ sake it is perhaps not too late--too late----'
'For what?' he asked, as her lip quivered and she paused.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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