British -- India -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
Now and again, at very rare intervals, Nature seems to select a
favoured man and woman to uphold the torch of the ideal, lest it be
reduced to sparks and smoke, to refute the cynic and the pessimist; to
hearten a world nauseated and discouraged by the eternal tragi-comedy
of marriage, with the spectacle of a human relationship of unsullied
beauty: a relationship that passes, by imperceptible degrees, from the
first antiphony of passionate hearts to a deep deliberate bliss,
"durable from the daily dust of life."
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. 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. Attainment is no part of our programme here; and there
may well be truth in the axiom that "to travel hopefully is better than
to arrive."
But Eldred Lenox, tangled in the twofold cords of temperament and
circumstance, was denied even the privilege of travelling hopefully,
and at moments like the present he suffered the additional torment of
looking into happiness through another man's eyes. It was futile to
reiterate the obvious drawbacks of marriage for an ambitious man,
standing on the threshold of a coveted career. These distracting
Desmonds cheerfully and unconsciously refuted them all! But he
accepted the thorns of the situation as toll paid for the privilege of
an intimacy he would on no account have forgone, and endured them with
the grim stoicism that was his.
The Allegretto ended, Honour swung round on her stool, and set forth
her Chumba project without reference to Eldred's threatened departure.
Desmond laughingly professed himself ready to obey orders, within
reasonable limits; and it was finally decided that he should write at
once to Colonel Mayhew, Resident of the native State in which
Dalhousie's hills are situated, and whose capital lies in a cup-shaped
valley eighteen miles below the English station.
Thereupon Lenox rose to take his leave; but on the threshold he paused,
as though an afterthought had occurred to him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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