Rosa Mundi by Ethel May Dell (e books free to read .TXT) 📖

I went out and spoke to him. I told him you had gone to bed, and so he didn't come in. I was glad he didn't. Hyde was there, and they don't hit it particularly well. In fact--" he hesitated. "I would rather he didn't know Hyde was here. Baring's a good chap--the best in the world. He's done no end for me; more than I can ever tell you. But he's awfully hard in some ways. I can't tell him everything. He doesn't always understand."
Again there sounded in his voice that faint, wistful note that so smote upon Hope's heart. She drew nearer to him, her cheek against his shoulder.
"Oh, Ronnie," she said, and her voice quivered passionately, "never think that of me, dear! Never think that I can't understand!"
He kissed her forehead.
"Bless you, old girl!" he whispered huskily.
"My marriage will make no difference--no difference," she insisted. "You and I will still be to each other what we have always been. There will be the same trust between us, the same confidence. Rather than lose that, I will never marry at all!"
She spoke with vehemence, but Ronnie was not carried away by it.
"Baring will have the right to know all your secrets," he said gloomily.
"Oh, no, no!" exclaimed Hope impulsively. "He would never expect that. He knows that we are twins, and there is no tie in the world that is quite like that."
Ronnie was silent, but she felt that it was not the silence of acquiescence. She took him by the shoulders and made him face her.
"Ronnie," she said very earnestly, "if you will only tell me things, and let me help you where I can, I swear to you--I swear to you most solemnly--that I will never betray your confidence to Monty, or to any one else: I know that he would never ask it of me; but even if he did--even if he did--I would not do it." She spoke so steadfastly, so loyally, that he was strongly moved. He thrust his arm boyishly round her.
"All right, dear old girl, I trust you," he said. "I'll tell you all about it. As I see you have guessed, there is a bit of a scrape; but it will be all right in two or three weeks. I've been a fool, and got into debt again. Baring helped me out once. That's partly why I'm so particularly anxious that he shouldn't get wind of it this time. Fact is, I'm very much in Hyde's power for the time being. But, as I say, it will be all right before long. I've promised to ride his Waler for the Ghantala Valley Cup next month. It's a pretty safe thing, and if I pull it off, as I intend to do, everything will be cleared, and I shall be out of his hands. It's a sort of debt of honour, you see. I can't get out of it, but I shall be jolly glad when it's over. We'll chuck him then, if he isn't civil. But till then I'm more or less helpless. So you'll do your best to tolerate him for my sake, won't you?"
A great sigh rose from Hope's heart, but she stifled it. Hyde's attitude of insolent power was explained to her, and she would have given all she had at that moment to have been free to seek Baring's advice.
"I'll try, dear," she said. "But I think the less I see of him the better it will be. Are you quite sure of winning the Cup?"
"Oh, quite," said Ronnie, with confidence. "Quite. Do you remember the races we used to have when we were kids? We rode barebacked in those days. You could stick on anything. Remember?"
Yes, Hope remembered; and a sudden, almost fierce regret surged up within her.
"Oh, Ronnie," she said, "I wish we were kids still!"
He laughed at her softly, and rose.
"I know better," he said; "and so does Baring. Good-night, old girl! Sleep well!"
And with that he left her. But Hope scarcely slept till break of day.


VIII
BEFORE THE RACE

Hope had arranged to go to the races with Mrs. Latimer after previously lunching with her.
When the day arrived she spent the morning working on the veranda in the sunshine. It was a perfect day of Indian winter, and under its influence she gradually forgot her anxieties, and fell to dreaming while she worked.
Down below the compound she heard the stream running swiftly between its banks, with a bubbling murmur like half-suppressed laughter. It was fuller than she had ever known it. The rains had swelled the river higher up the valley, and they had opened the sluice-gates to relieve the pressure upon the dam that had been built there after the disastrous flood that had drowned the English girl years before.
Hope loved to hear that soft chuckling between the reeds. It made her think of an English springtime. The joy of spring was in her veins. She turned her face to the sunshine with a smile of purest happiness. Only two months more to the zenith of her happiness!
There came the sound of a step on the veranda--a stumbling, uncertain step. She turned swiftly in her chair, and sprang up. Ronnie had returned to prepare for the race, and she had not heard him. She had not seen him before that day, and she felt a momentary compunction as she moved to greet him. And then--her heart stood still.
He was standing a few paces away, supporting himself against a pillar of the veranda. His eyes were fixed and heavy, like the eyes of a man walking in his sleep. He stared at her dully, as if he were looking at a complete stranger.
Hope stopped short, gazing at him in speechless consternation.
After several moments he spoke thickly, scarcely intelligibly.
"I can't race to-day," he said. "Not well enough. Hyde must find a substitute."
He could hardly articulate the last word, but Hope caught his meaning. The whole miserable tragedy was written up before her in plain, unmistakable characters.
But almost as quickly as she perceived it came the thought that no one else must know. Something must be done, even though it was at the eleventh hour.
Her first instinct was to send for Baring, but she thrust it from her. No! She must find another way. There must be a way out if she were only quick enough to see it--some way by which she could cover up his disgrace so that none should know of it. There was a way--surely there was a way! Ronnie's dull stare became intolerable. She went to him, bravely, steadfastly.
"Go and lie down!" she said. "I will see about it for you."
Something in her own words sent a sudden flash through her brain. She caught her breath, and her face turned very white. But her steadfastness did not forsake her. She took Ronnie by the arm and guided him to his room.


IX
THE RACE

"Such a pity. Hope can't come!"
Mrs. Latimer addressed Baring, who had just approached her across the racecourse. The sun was shining brilliantly, and the scene was very gay.
Baring, who had drawn near with a certain eagerness, seemed to stiffen at her words.
"Can't come!" he echoed. "Why not?"
Mrs. Latimer handed him a note.
"She sent this round half an hour ago."
Baring read the note with bent brows. It merely stated that the writer had been working all the morning and was a little tired. Would Mrs. Latimer kindly understand and excuse her?
He handed it back without comment.
"Where is young Carteret?" he asked. "Have you seen him yet?"
"No," she answered. "Somebody was saying he was late. Ah! There he is, surely--just going into the weighing-tent. What a superb horse that is of Mr. Hyde's! Do you think he will win the Cup?"
Baring thought it likely, but he said it with so preoccupied an air that Mrs. Latimer smiled, and considerately refrained from detaining him.
She watched him walk down towards the weighing-tent; but before he reached it, she saw the figure of young Carteret issue forth at the farther end, and start off at a run with his saddle on his shoulder towards the enclosure where the racers were waiting. He was late, and she thought he looked flurried.
A few minutes later Baring returned to her.
"The boy is behindhand, as usual," he remarked. "I didn't get near him. Time is just up. I hear the Rajah thinks very highly of Hyde's Waler."
Mrs. Latimer looked across at the Indian Prince who was presenting the Cup. He was seated in the midst of a glittering crowd of natives and British officers. She saw that he was closely scanning the restless line of horses at the starting-point.
Through her glasses she sought the big black Waler. He was foaming and stamping uneasily, and she saw that his rider's face was deadly pale.
"I don't believe Ronnie can be well," she said. "He looks so nervous."
Baring grunted in a dissatisfied note, but said nothing.
Another two minutes, and the signal was given. There were ten horses in the race. It was a fair start, and the excitement in the watching crowd became at once intense.
Baring remained at Mrs. Latimer's side. She was on her feet, and scarcely breathing. The black horse stretched himself out like a greyhound, galloping splendidly over the shining green of the course. His rider, crouched low in the saddle, looked as if at any instant he might be hurled to the earth.
Baring watched him critically, his jaw set and grim. Obviously, the boy was not himself, and he fancied he knew the reason.
"If he pulls it off, it'll be the biggest fluke of his life," he muttered.
"Isn't it queer?" whispered Mrs. Latimer. "I never saw young Carteret ride like that before."
Baring was silent. He began to think he understood Hope's failure to put in an appearance.
Gradually the black Waler drew away from all but two others, who hotly contested the leadership. He was running superbly, though he apparently received but small encouragement from his rider.
As they drew round the curve at the further end of the course, he was galloping next to the rails. As they finally turned into the straight run home, he was leading.
But the horse next to him, urged by his rider, who was also his owner, made so strenuous an effort that it became obvious to all that he was gaining upon the Waler.
A great yell went up of "Carteret! Carteret! Wake up, Carteret! Don't give it away!" And the Waler's rider, as if startled by the cry, suddenly and convulsively slashed the animal's withers.
Through a great tumult of shouting the two horses dashed past the winning-post. It seemed a dead heat; but, immediately after, the news spread that Hyde's horse was the winner. The Waler had gained his victory by a neck.
Hyde was leading his horse round to the Rajah's stand. His jockey, looking white and exhausted, sat so loosely in the saddle that he seemed to sway with the animal's movements. He did not appear to hear the cheering around him.
Baring took up his stand near the weighing-tent, and, a few minutes later, Hyde and his jockey came up together. The boy's cap was dragged down over his eyes, and he looked neither to right nor left.
Hyde, perceiving Baring, pushed forward abruptly.
"I want a word with you," he said. "I've been trying to catch you for some days past. But first, what did you think of the race?" He coolly fastened on to Baring's elbow, and the latter had to pause. Hyde's companion passed swiftly on; and Hyde, seeing the look on Baring's face, began