Peace with Honour

by Sydney C. Grier

It was when he was brought into contact with the more sophisticated townsmen, or with the weaker and craftier races of India, that Dick felt himself at a loss; and he observed, with vain intentions of emulating it, the way in which his friend would apparently give himself up altogether to the trivial business or wearisome pleasure of the hour without once forgetting the object he had in view. That he had never lost sight of his aim was proved by his sudden descent, just at the right moment, upon his opponents, who thought they had thrown him off his guard, but found that they were altogether mistaken. By his superiors at the Foreign Office, Mr Stratford was regarded as a thoroughly dependable man who was always to be trusted to tackle any particularly nasty piece of business, while by his contemporaries and subordinates he was abhorred as a fellow who seldom took his leave unless he saw the chance of employing it in some sort of work likely to bear upon his official duties, and whose proceedings disposed the authorities to expect far too much from other people. He was bound to be ambassador some day, they supposed, but he might allow those who did not aim so high to have the chance of a quiet life.

Dick was among the few men who knew the story that lay in the background of Mr Stratford’s life. On one occasion, when they were hunting together in Kashmir, Stratford was severely wounded by a bear, and Dick, while bandaging his friend’s left arm, discovered that under the signet he wore on his little finger, and almost concealed by it, was a wedding-ring. He learnt the story which attached to it somewhat later. Years ago, Mr Stratford had been engaged to the daughter of one of the foreign representatives at Eusebia, where he held a post in the British Legation, and all things seemed to combine to promise him happiness. But only three days before the time appointed for the wedding, the bride fell ill, and there was terror and panic in the city when the news crept about that her malady was the plague. She died on the day on which she was to have been married, and this was the end of Mr Stratford’s dream of bliss, of which there remained now only the unused wedding-ring. Dick could still recall the even voice in which he had told his tale as the two men sat by their camp-fire with the darkness of the forest around them. He heard only the bare facts, and he felt that these were merely told him to account for the presence of the ring. They were related without a sign of emotion, without a single expression of regret or of self-pity; but the story unveiled to Dick the tragedy which was hidden behind his friend’s prosperous life. Neither of them had ever referred again to that night’s confidences; but Dick felt grateful that the mask had once been lifted for his benefit. Henceforward, no one could allude to Stratford in his presence as a fellow without a heart, or hint that he was a diplomatist rather than a man, without his taking up the cudgels hotly for the absent one.

The journey across Europe was performed without delay or other mishap, and, after a few hours’ waiting at the port Stratford and Dick were able to board their vessel. The first member of their own party that they met was the doctor, who gave them a hearty welcome, and proceeded to pour his own woes into their sympathetic ears. The ship had met with fearful weather in the Bay, and, if he had known what a time was before him, he would have gone overland with them.

“But you must have found it all right since you passed the Rock?” said Dick.

“Oh yes, it has been endurable. The Chief and I have been cramming Ethiopian with the interpreter, Kustendjian—a very clever fellow. We shall have the start of you there. We shall be swimming along gaily in the reading-book while you two are floundering through your alphabet. To hear that Armenian chap deferentially commending Sir Dugald for his progress is a joke! He’s a thorough courtier, and wouldn’t let your humble servant get ahead of the Chief on any account.”

“It shows Sir Dugald’s pluck that he has begun a new language at all at his age,” said Stratford. “Most men would have left everything to Kustendjian, and thrown the blame on him if things went wrong.”

“Oh, we all know that you will back up the Chief on every possible occasion,” said the doctor, irreverently. “He ought to be thankful that he has such a faithful trumpeter at hand to act as his understudy in case of need. But you mark my words, if ever I have to put the Chief on the sick-list, North and I will give you a jolly time!”

“Regularly beastly!” agreed Dick. “But you seem to have been badly off for occupation if you took to studying Ethiopian. Was there absolutely nothing to do?”

“Not much, except to watch the love affair.”

“What love affair?”