Leonie of the Jungle

by Joan Conquest

  CHAPTER XXXII

  "And thou shalt become an astonishment, a proverb, a byword."--_The Bible_.

  When Leonie returned to Calcutta she found that the tale of hercourageous act which had preceded her, and of which home and localpapers had exhausted themselves in praise, had not served to endear herto that little white community, which suffers from social myopia, andthe self-adjusted chains of what it most mistakenly calls caste.

  Not likely that the feminine members of Jute, military, railway, or lawcircles _would_ open their arms any wider to this young, and beautiful,widowed creature with the mop of naturally curling hair, now that, ifso minded, she could verbally and positively flap one of the finesttiger skins that had ever come out of Bengal in their heat-strickenfaces.

  In fact some of the young ones as they wrestled with the nightlyproblem of their own dank, straight particular bit of woman's glory,would doubtless, if questioned, have upheld the Hindu custom ofcompletely shaving the widowed head.

  Many, in fact, had been the meetings of these younger mem-sahibs inbungalows, or flats, at Firpoes, or in clubs, where, under the pretextof criticising the latest fashions from overseas, they discussed thepros and cons of accepting this person into the haven of theirAnglo-Indian bosom.

  The elder ones kept out of the clatter, having suffered and fought insimilar crises in their own day as had their mothers, and theirmothers' mothers before them since the days before the mutiny; beingmoreover resigned to the corrugated appearance of their faces, and the,in consequence, perambulatory instincts of their lords.

  "Her _undies_," said a woman who, with the excuse of borrowing a book,had essayed to spy out the land of Leonie's cabin. "I saw her runningribbons in them--the most _ex_-quisite crepe de Chine, hand embroideredand trimmed with _real_ lace!"

  "How _de trop_!" had answered a matron, whose household _linge_ andpersonal _lingerie_ showed complete only in the sections of fingernapkins and undervests, as is the way of a careless, untidy woman'slinen stock.

  "Well, that's easily understood," chimed in a third. "After all she_is_ trade."

  And the no's had carried it.

  Wherefore, although in ignorance of the verdict, she did exactly whatevery other woman did, and went where they went, she most certainly did_not_ have what one would call a good time. She loved the Maidan andgolf at the Jodhpur Club, or Tollygunge, before breakfast; shecordially loathed shopping and duty calls; grudged the hours lost outof life in the daily afternoon siesta, and took part in dances, bridge,dinners, and all the usual monotonous effort to kill time, with the airof an indifferent, disgruntled statue.

  Gossip was no joy to her, scandal she would not tolerate, and the womencommenced the task of ostracism by means of half-uttered phrases andlittle invidious smiles; and most men voted her _odd_ owing to acertain indescribable barrier which they invariably encountered whenthey approached her over impulsively, and which really did _not_ tallywith her enticing, bizarre beauty.

  Yes! they voted her odd, certainly, but in the secret places of theirhearts and bungalows some of them would ponder.

  Had not the major sahib's bearer curled himself up on the mat beneaththe bed and gone to sleep, while the major sahib, after the ball, hadsat in his shirt-sleeves upon that bed until three in the morning; andover and over again mentally slid up and down the room with supple,slender Leonie in his arms, where, in the earlier hours of the night,she had rested seemingly content for one half-second before he had lether go under the palms.

  And, "Damn it all, she's not a flirt," did not a certain youthful sahibwho worshipped openly at her shrine exclaim, as he thought, in theunpleasantly heated watches of the night, of that moment when she hadsmiled down sweetly into his adoring eyes, as his cheek brushed herhand while she was arranging her habit, and he her stirrup leather.

  How _were_ they to know that, distracted by an ever-increasing fear,and lost in an overwhelming love, Leonie had no more remembrance thanthe man in the moon of the fact that she had danced with the one, andsmiled upon the other.

  It was the final flare of the season in the shape of a ball atGovernment House; one of those mixed massed gatherings to which you areinvited either on account of your rank, or your unblemished reputation,or the fact that you've had the forethought to inscribe your name inthe visiting-book.

  Leonie was standing with Jan Cuxson near an open door under a revolvingfan which disturbed the outer masses of the hair she had piledhaphazard upon the top of her small head, catching the great coilstogether with huge pins, and strengthening the entire structure bymeans of a finely wrought, diamond-hilted steel dagger, looted in theMutiny by a not over-punctilious forbear.

  "I wonder you don't cut your hair to bits," had once remarked before amultitude, an envious dame, whose curls reposed cosily in a box o'nights, and who had grave doubts as to the sincerity of Leonie's tawnylocks.

  "I run it through in its sheath," Leonie had replied, pulling thesheathed dagger out as she spoke, so that her hair had fallen in ajumbled scented mantle all over her, causing the men to put their handsin their pockets, or behind their backs, and the women to mechanicallypat their heads; just as you fidget unconsciously with your veil, orthe curls above your ear, when someone of your own sex, and far betterturned-out, happens upon your horizon.

  On this night her absurdly small feet made her head look almost topheavy, just as the uncorseted small waist emphasised the width of hershoulders, and the violet shadows enlarged the opalescent weird eyeslooking wearily on the scene around her.

  Why didn't she go back to England if she hated it all so much?

  Because she couldn't! Because India held her and she waited upon Fateas patiently as ever did Mr. Micawber.

  "Lady Hickle ought to go to the hills, she's looking absolutely fagged!"

  The male voice drifted in through the window upon a pause in the music.

  "Well! continuous _sleep-walking's_ not likely to make you look yourbest, is it?"

  The damnable giggle at the end of the remark brought a frown to JanCuxson's face as he picked up somebody's wrap from a chair, put itround Leonie and led her unresistingly down the steps into the grounds.

  It sounds better to say "grounds" rather than "compound" when speakingof Government House.

  "I--I _hate_ all this," Leonie said impulsively as she sat down on amarble seat. "I hate India--I--I----"

  She flung her head back, and it came to rest upon the man's shoulder,and she shivered ever so lightly when he pressed it still further back,pinioning her arms so that she could not move.

  "Leonie."

  The sudden authority in the voice brought a light to the eyes on alevel with his mouth; she moved unconsciously, and Cuxson suddenlyletting her go caught both her hands in one of his, pulled her roundsideways, and jerked them up to his chin, and she laughed softly as shefell slightly forward; and laughed even more softly when he crushed herback again against him with his hands upon her breast.

  Both heedless in their love of the eyes watching, of the hidden form,and above all of that relentless will which causes some of usuncontrollably to do odd things at odd moments under the Indian stars.

  If _only_ he had not hesitated, if only he had turned the face to himthen and there and closed the gold-flecked eyes with kisses.

  But instead he held her crushed to the point of agony against him withhis mouth upon the sweetness of her neck, leaving the gold-flecked eyesto open wider, and still wider as they stared straight into theshrubbery around, where the flaming poinsettia flowers looked blackunder the stars.

  "Beloved! Leonie, listen----"

  "_Don't!_ please don't!"

  She pulled herself free and knelt on one knee upon the bench, with bothhands outstretched against him; and he, not grasping the psychologicalpoints of the moment, sat down dumbly beside her, instead of masteringher physically, or mentally on the spot as it behoved him to do.

  Heavens! what fools some men can be with that jungle animal womanwithin their hands.

  "L
eonie, listen dear, I want you to marry me, dear--soon!"

  The words fell upon Leonie's clamouring soul as dismally as theraindrops of your childhood fell upon the window-pane when you werewaiting to start for a picnic.

  "You don't know what you are saying!" she replied. "It is criminaleven to think of such a thing--mad as I believe I am--mad as I shall bewhen I end in a padded room!"

  Her voice was barely a whisper, but it cut like slate on slate, and hereyes stared straight ahead as she continued speaking rapidly, almostuncontrollably, and yet with a certain air of relief as though glad togive vent in words to the horror which pressed upon her brain.

  "Although you pretend it is only sleep-walking," she went on, heedlessof his efforts to interrupt her, "you know perfectly well there issomething wrong with me. You know it, so did your father, so doesAuntie, people here are whispering it. Yes! they are, they _are_," shereiterated, "and they are _right_. Something more than just beingfrightened by my ayah happened to me in India all those years ago, oh!you know it did, I'm under a spell or bewitched--sometimes I havea--a--" she struck her forehead with her open hand as she crouched backupon the bench like some animal at bay--"a--oh! my God--you see--Icannot even say what it is. Can't you tell me, Jan? Can't you helpme? _You_--you say you love me--you say you have found a clue--forpity's sake follow it, follow it and save me--you--you----"

  "Leonie, _look_ at me!"

  Something in his voice forced her to look at him, and her eyes shonelike flat pieces of opalescent glass so contracted were the pupils, butthey widened even as she looked into the steadfast grey eyes, and hermouth relaxed into the shadow of a smile.

  Good heavens, why didn't he take her in his arms and smother her upagainst his heart, or put a bag over her head, or failing the bag, puthis hand before her eyes?

  What fools some men can be with the woman they love within their reach.

  But instead he left her, hurt and humiliated and desolate, to sit halfcrouched by herself, whilst her eyes, against all striving, slowlyveered round to the shrub.

  He held her hand, it is true, whilst he talked, but what good is _that_to a frightened woman whose heart is crying for protection, and whosebody is clamouring to be forced into submission?

  "Dear," he said as Leonie stared at the poinsettia bush, "I am on thetrack at last, and in a very little time shall know exactly whathappened to you all those years ago. There is only one link missing,and that I shall surely find, as I find everything when I set my mindto it. Then the whole thing will be cleared up, and this mysteriouscloud lifted from you. Look at me, dear!" Leonie turned and looked athim blankly, and as he continued speaking, slowly, and as thoughagainst her will, turned her eyes back to the poinsettia bush. "I wantyou now in your distress. I want you in the storm as well as in thesunshine, dear; I love to see you smile, it would be heaven to _make_you smile. Marry me, beloved, _now_. Dear, won't you? Let me liftthe cloud from my _wife_. Oh! Leonie, think of it--my _wife_!"

  Leonie answered mechanically, as though she were repeating a lesson andhad not heard one word of the man's pleading.

  "What have you found out? And what is missing?"

  "I have found the woman who was your ayah."

  Leonie pulled her hands away, and pushing the hair off her forehead,sat quite still listening, but not hearing the music as it floatedthrough the night air, watching without seeing the couples as theystrolled about the grounds.

  And then she answered, but without any real interest, although verydistinctly, shivering slightly as the man put the wrap over her bareshoulders.

  "Have you? And who is she, really? Of course I know hername--but--but what do you know about her? I have had no answer to myletters since I've been out here, is the poor thing still working?"

  "She's--not exactly working for a living, dear, and she is--is----"

  He stopped short with a world of perplexity in his eyes, then went onas slowly and mechanically as Leonie had done.

  "Perhaps, dear, I--I had--better not say any more until--until I haveeverything quite clear."

  And he drew his hand sharply across his eyes as Leonie sighed.

  "Very well!" she replied gently. "Just as you think best."

  "Tell me you love me, Leonie, let me be sure of that, let me just hearyou say it once."

  She put out both her hands, and he took them and kissed them.

  "Dear, do you count me as _so_ little? Don't you know, cannot you feelthat a love like mine endures for ever?"

  "Do you still want the little white house behind the whitewall--Leonie, _do_ you!"

  "Oh! Jan!"

  "Well, marry me--marry me, beloved, and give me the right to protectyou--from trouble, and these slanderous, murderous tongues."

  Leonie's face was lovely to behold, swept by a wave of colour, and witheyes like stars; but she shook her head although a little smile partedthe crimson mouth.

  "No! Jan! Nothing will make me change. Not until we know and until Iam cured. Do you think I would risk our love, and our happiness? Ishall never, never marry you as long as I have this--this longingto--this desire to--to--oh! what is it. Find out what has happened tome, find out what I do when I walk in my sleep--just how mad I am, andif the madness can be cured, and if it can, _then_ I will--will----"

  "Yes, dear?"

  "I will--will----!"

  It was no pretty sight to watch her striving to speak, her mouthopening and shutting without sound, her hands against her throat.

  Then she looked at him suddenly, smiling sweetly, and put both hands inhis, while he, sick with pain and unconfessed fear, changed theconversation abruptly by the grace of understanding.

  "I think you ought to go away, Leonie--to the hills--for a change.It's getting frightfully hot, why don't you?"

  "Yes!--I might--I think I will--I'm so tired of everything--sovery--very tired!"

  "Where to, dear?"

  Leonie bent her head a little sideways as though listening, made astrange little movement with both her hands, then placed the open palmsagainst her forehead and replied:

  "To Benares!"

  She had barely whispered the words, so quietly did she speak, as thepoinsettia flowers bent slightly--to a passing breeze--may be!