THE LAST POST.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 69, 17 April 1909, Page 4

THE LAST POST.

Thud, thud, thud— | The regiment was inarching up to tile , barrack gates to the guy strains of the regimental march. The upright figure of the Colonel riding in front, the ollicers with their drawn swords on the flanks, the bronzed faces of the men, all had a story to tell, and he learnt most who could read between the lines. Thud, thud, thud —tramp, tramp, tramp— Few noticed the old man with grey hair and moustache who stood erect upon the pavement watching the regiment as it marched by, but the trained eye beneath the thick eyebrows had taken in every detail. It had searched narrowly for any symptom "of decline, for the slightest relaxation of discipline that would show that the icgimenl was no longer living up to its high traditions. Nothing had escaped him, but it was good, very good, and it, was with a sigh, partly of satisfaction, partly of sorrow, that he turned away, when the regiment had been swallowed up by the barrack gates and the thud- thud, thud of the big drum had ceased. Few noticed the old man, but there were one or two who recognised hiin as thu Colonel who had come out to greet his old regiment. Xothing could break the i links between the Colonel and the regiment that he had once commanded, .lie I ' could not follow it to Malta or to India, , but he had been the last spectator left j at the docks long after the transport had vanished from sight, lie had followed its fortunes week by week in the ' military papers. He had followed it—--0 how" eagerly!—all through the last frontier war, and now he had come out '. to greet it once more on its return to j England. For the regiment had been, , and still 'was. everything to the old | Colonel. As a young subaltern he had t fought in its ranks through the Sepoy . war; he had been upon the Delhi Ridgej , he had been with it in the first rush . through the Cashmere Gate, and he had , taken part in the desperate fight in thti streets, John Nicholson's last battle. , It was memories such as these that [ were conjured up by the music of the regimental march. Thud, thud, thud, it j seemed to play him back to his home, and as he entered the door it might i have been a fly that he brushed Off hi« cheek, and it might also have been a tear.

He climbed slowly up the narrow dark staircase. "Daddie, are you home again!" the voice was weak but cheer-

"Yes, my dear," replied the Colonel, as he entered the sitting-room and sat 'down on a chair beside the sofa. It was all too evident that this was an iuvalid'a room, and the pale face that looked up from the sofa into hi» spoke of the suffering home with the patience and courage of a soldier's daughter. "I heard the regiment pass," she said, "and 1 knew that you would he home soon, And is it doing you credit!" she asked with a smile. "Yes, darling, it is good, very good. Fortescue has done well, better even than I expected. I'll take you out in the chair to-morrow and you shall see ,for yourself." That evening after cupper the Colonel put on hie hat and walked out of the house. The invalid knew where ho was going, and the knew why. He walked quickly through ihc streets until ne came "to the neighborhood of the barracks, and then his pace slackened, and he began to saunter up and down beneath the flaring lamp-posts. Suddenly the silence of the evening was broken by the regimental bugles. The Colonel listened to the sad wail of the "Last Post," and then returned quickly home. "They plav as well as ever," lie muttered. Delhi Ridge and the Cashmere Gate were strong upon him. That night he sat up late in his study. At last he rose from his chair, and, taking a key from his pocket, he unlocked a drawer of his writing-table. He took out a bundle of papers, and, spreading them on the table, lie pored over them for nearly lialf-an-liour. The trend of 'his thoughts was betrayed from time to time by his half audible comments. "One' thousand pounds," he uiulterel. ■ pushing his chair back, "enough and more than enough to save Xell's life' Once more he beut over the papers. "Rough on Lennox," lie muttered at last—"and votr-aftvr all—there is Xcll to be thought of." He sat up once more and stared hard at the lamp, and the light shone 02 the deep wrinkles across the forehead, the outward and visible si«n of the inward struggle, "well, well " he said, "I'll talk to Francis about it and we shall see-but it's rough on Lennox." He gathered the papers up and returned them to the drawer, then with a lighted candle he made his way to his bedroom. The doctor came the next morning to see the Colonel's daughter, aud then 'remained for some time shut up with the Colonel. "It is useless," he said, "in fact, it would be criminal to hide from jynn the fact that all the symptoms point unquestionably to tuberculosis. I fear that nothing but a prolonged stay in Switzerland can possibly save her life." And after the doctor had gone, as the Colonel sat alone in his study, the inward struggle began once more "Switzerland," lie muttered "and £looo—and after all—after—LennoxWeeks and months passed by and the cloud on the Colonel's face grew deeper. Once o r twice he had stumbled as he entered the sitting-room, and his daughter had looked up with ill-concealed anxiety into his blood-shot eyes, and ihad tenderly stroked the trembling hand. His troubles had been increasing, the struggle was growing fiercer. ! A heavy doctor's bill had to he faced, and other bills came in quick succession. The brown face was now growing pale -and haggard. One evening he rose slowly from his chair, and, unlocking a cupboard he took out a bottle and a wine<dass.' He placed them both on the table and paceu up and down the room with uncertain steps. Once, twice he took up the bottle and put it down again. At last he filled the glass. Thud, thud, thud—thud, thud, tuudthe sound of the big drum was borne faintly through the darkness. The Colonel put down the glass which he had already raised to his lips. Thud, thud, thud—and suddenly famt and far off rose the strains of the regimental march. The Colonel stood motionless by the table till the march died away iii the distance. His face lor-t the hag- ! gard expression, and the Delhi look was mi his eyes. Once more he look up the glass, hilt instead of raising it to his fins he walked with a firm step to the study window and emptied the contents 011 the grass below. Taking up the I bottle he emptied that in the same way, land the bottle and glass were then re[turned to the cupboard. The t'olonci ' locked it up and, walking I" ihe window, 'he hurled the kev far out into the dark I'noss. As he sat'before the fire his head dropped upon his hands, aud the light I of the Humes dancing and sparkling in his eyes was like musketry lire from the Cashmere date. Troubles still pressed upon the Colonel. It was clear thai Nell's con Idition was growing more and more sen1 011s. It was also clear that the prolonged stay in Switzerland was out of ! the question unless the necessary funds were forthcoming." - - One evening Ill's. Morgan, the housekeeper, announced a visitor. A gentleman, clean-shaven ami dark, somewhat past middle age, entered the room. After, shaking hands and making a few commonplace remarks, they walked oil' to the study (r. 'ex'thcr, and the Colonel turned Urn key lin the door. Once more lie unlocked the writing-table drawer and brought out the bundle of papers ami spread them on the table. The two sat down together and examined them for some time in silence. "Well, Francis," said the Colonel at last, "you think it can be done';'' "1 aiu certain of it, Colonel; you have onlv to press the case and there is not the slightest doubt in the world that you can get £1001) damages at least." "And Lennox';" enquired the other, "what about him?"

The solicitor shrugged his shoulders. "It's his own doing," he replied; "lie brought it upon himself, and ho must be prepared to take tile consequences." "Jl means r uin to him, absolute ruin; ho can never slay in the army it thai i-tory gets about."

"I suppose not, and it is certainly a matter for regret; but then, as I said before, it is his own doing, and one cannot afford to get scntiuienUl over those matters."

"Ami yet," the Coloiiel n-aid uuicily, almost to himself, "he's a good soldier, and in two years he'll probably be in command of the regiment." "That is neither here nor there." Francis replied, "there you have it i" black and white. You have only lo bring it into court, and you arc safe to -win. He would be wibe to settle Hie matter out uf court on your own terms.'' The lines on the Colonel's lace told -that the struggle had begun afresh. '"He's got a daughter too," mused the Colonel", "and a wife. It's hard on them, 'mil on him—but still—"

"Well?" a«kcd the other, "have you d'cidcd yet?"

At that moment through the open windows came t'he sounu of Nell's voice. It was a. .plaintive song that she sang, and the voice was tired and sad, A spasm passed over the Colonel's face, and he walked restlessly up and down the room. The perspiration broke out on his forehead.

"Yes," he said at last slowly, and in | a broken voice, "1 have decided. Thud, thud, thud*— thud, thud, thudcame the sound of the big drum. "Hulloa," said the solicitor, "tore comes the regiment." "Yes," said ihe Colonel, slowly, "here comes the regiment." Thud, thud, thud, nearer still, and the gay notes of the regimental march swept through the window and filled the room with tiheir music.

"And your decision!" asked the other again, impatiently. But the Colonel was still silent. The room had vanished, the solicitor had vanished, and he was wrapped in memories of the past. The regiment swung round the corner and passed down the street.

"You said that you had decided!" said the solicitor.

The Colonel was watching the regiment and gave no sign of having heard the question. From the Colonel riding tu front, his eyes wandered to the upright figure of the second-in-command, and they followed him as he rode down the street.

Tramp, tramp, tramp—never had he seen the battalion march better, never had the men looked smarter. The stern lines of his face relaxed and a mist formed before his eves.

Thud, thud, thud—the regiment had passed out of sight, but the music of the regimental march still filled the room.

Thud, thud, thud, growing fainter now, but the Colonel still 6tood motionless by the window. ■

Thud, thud, thud, fainter and fainter. Thud, thud, thud-thud, thud, and it died away in tie distance. Suddenly the Colonel turned, and faced Ihe solicitor. "Yes," he said briefly, "I have decided."

"To press the suit," said the other quietly, "No," snapped the Colonel, 'I won't." "You mean that! Remember that you iaru certain to wim the case."

"I don't care," said the Colonel deliberately, "I won't do it."

"Well," said the solicitor, taking up his hat, "if you won't, you won't, but I think that it's a pity." "I don't care what you think," said the Colonel. "Good-day." A few months later the Colonel sat with his daughter in the twilight. "Daddie," she said, Mary Lennox came to see me this afternoon while you were out, and she seems so worried about her father. He's troubled about something. Couldn't we ask him to come here some time! We haven't seen him for ever to long." "Yes, yes," said the Colonel, "I'll ask Lennox to come to dinner to-morrow."

To-morrow evening came, and at 7.30 Major Lennox arrived. With a scarcely perceptible hesitation he entered the room. The Colonel held out his hand. "Well, Lennox, I'm glad to see you. You've met my daughter, I think. I see the old regiment's living up to its traditions with a vengeance. I never saw it looking better than it does now. And I must congratulate you, Lennox. I saw all about.that little affair of yours in the papers. By George, I should have liked to have been with you; it was splendid." The Major colored, for a soldier wlio hue just won the V.C. docs not care to be reminded of it.

"You're very gooit," he replied quietly, "my little affair, as you call it, was very I much exaggerated by tihe correspondents, who, by the way, were not present at the time, and they have donv me far more honor than I deserve. But there's no doubt about it, Colonel, v/e should have been very glad to have had you out there with us." The conversation at the dinner-table ran chiefly on the past doings of the regiment. After dinner the Colonel suggested a cigar iu the study. They sat the study fire and began to sinoKe.

"Colonel." said Lennox, slowly, "it has been awfully difficult for me to come here to-night, though I was glad of getting things settled up one way or another. I had a fancy that you would bring it into court, and—well, you know what that would mean to me. It did seem a bit hard, you know."

"Don't think of thfi now," saVl the Colonel; "in two years' time you'll .w in command, and the regiment will never have had a better colonel." "I owe you an apology," said the Major, "will you accept it!" The Colonel said nothing, but iie gripped the Major's hand. "And now," said the Major, "fact is, it's my jam For a holiday, and I intend to spend it in Switzerland. I very niuet want a companion to go with me, and—well, I was wondering whether you ami your daughter would care to come. Then when my leave's up, you two might stay on a hit, you know, if you found that it was doing her any good." Six months Ta'tcr the Colonel returned from his trip to Switzerland. The shadows had gone from his face, and the Invalid's couch was no longer required. His daughter had retired, and the Colonel stood by the study window lost in thought. Then through the open window came the distant music of the regimental bugles as they plaved tho "Last Post."

Once more the Colonel stood upon the Delhi Ridge, once more he rushed through tho Cashmere Grtte. Then, raising bin right hand in salute, he dropped on his knees beside the table.—By E. G. Hoare, in M.A.P.