On the same afternoon as Hester was enjoying the many-sided pleasures of her day at Ennore, Alfred Rayner was stepping from the train at the trim little railway station of Puranapore. He looked less brisk than ordinarily, and did not seem disposed to claim the simultaneous attentions of all the native officials in his usual self-assertive manner, but stood glancing up and down the platform with an undecided air. In fact the green flag had been waved, and the train by which he had arrived had started on its onward way, but still he seemed in no hurry to proceed. Presently the station-master approached him, and salaaming, inquired which Dorai he was on his way to visit, no carriage having appeared from the English cantonment.
Mr. Rayner was in a very uncommunicative mood. He did not disclaim any purpose of visiting one of the English residents, nor did he indicate whither he was bound. Suddenly he picked up his bag, for on second thoughts he had dismissed his dressing-boy at the Madras station, and strode off on foot, much to the surprise of the station-master, who was a comparative stranger and did not even know him by sight. The scowling Hindu ticket-collector quickly enlightened him.
"That's La'yer Rayner that done bobbery about that mosque," he remarked, and proceeded to denounce the barrister in no flattering terms, prophesying that he had reappeared to hatch fresh mischief with the plotting Zynool.
The object of these unfavourable comments was meanwhile making his way among the narrow crowded streets of the old town, and in one of the unloveliest of these he stood glancing up at a house, the front aspect of which was little more than a blank wall, its peeling chunam giving it a dreary, weather-stained appearance. Its few slits of windows looked down on the street like pairs of suspicious eyes, and its low door seemed as if it could not admit anyone of even average stature, though it gave daily ingress and egress to the ponderous figure of Zynool Sahib. At this low portal Mr. Rayner stood, tentatively looking up at the narrow windows.
"Perhaps I should have wired to announce my coming! One never knows whether an impromptu descent or not is best with these beggars. If I had warned Zynool, it would only have given him a loophole for escape if he had a mind for any reason to dodge me. His letter showed he was mad over his failure to annex that idiot, Cheveril, and he seemed actually to blame me for it!"
He had ample time for his soliloquy while he waited for a response to his knock. At length he heard the withdrawing of heavy bolts within and the door was opened. On his inquiry if Zynool Sahib was at home, a suspicious-looking servant led him along a dark, narrow passage from which he passed into a courtyard ablaze with sunshine and gay with flowering shrubs. In the centre a fountain played and goldfish disported themselves in its sparkling basin. Rows of windows with leaded panes of glass looked into the court, some of these were being hurriedly closed now, though the visitor was able to catch a glimpse of moving forms within and even of faces peering furtively down upon him.
"The harem, of course," muttered Mr. Rayner, with a scornful smile. "No, ladies, you need not fear, I'll not peep, I've no wish to anger your lord and master!"
After a little pause another servant appeared; he was evidently of a higher grade, for he pushed the other aside rudely, saying:
"Your honour will follow me! The Sahib will see!"
The visitor was led along more passages and finally shown into a large room furnished entirely after English fashions of an unrefined sort. The badly stuffed sofa and chairs covered with crimson plush looked most uninviting. On the floor was spread a crude coloured Brussels carpet, while lovely Persian rugs lay huddled on the verandah outside. The only ornament in the room was a huge musical box.
"So this is Zynool's idea of comfort! I wonder what Hester would think of this," muttered Mr. Rayner, flinging his sun-topee on the garish plush table-cloth, its neutral colour giving a relieving touch which he noted almost with comfort as he seated himself on the hard sofa. He had never before penetrated into Zynool's home, having most frequently arranged meetings with him in Madras, or, when business necessitated a visit to Puranapore, Zynool had always directed him to a room near the railway station which seemed at his disposal.
Presently the heavy curtain at the other end of the room from which he had entered was pushed aside by a fat brown hand bedecked with sparkling rings, and the master of the house stood before him, making less deferential salaam than usual, and with a frown on his face. Rayner also discerned from a certain flicker of his eyelids which half covered his beady eyes that Zynool was not in the best of tempers.
"Worse luck for me," he groaned inwardly.
"You give your humble slave one surprise, La'yer Rayner," said Zynool, licking his coarse red lips, as he disposed his heavy person on the edge of one of the plush-covered chairs. "No chit, no wire, no nossing!" he jerked, looking querulously at his visitor as he spoke.
"Upon my word, Zynool, I ought to apologise for my coming upon you in this unceremonious manner," returned Mr. Rayner, assuming his most conciliatory tone, "but we're such friends, you and I, I thought I might risk an impromptu visit. What a beautiful room you have here—quite English, I declare!"
"Ha, it pleases your Honour then!" said Zynool, visibly brightening. "This apartment has just been lately furnished all from Oakes & Company, Madras,—all perfect English—Oakes' man done assure. The carpet too, is it not a beautee?" he added, casting an admiring glance on the hideous tints.
"Perfectly lovely—such good taste! A lucky man you are, Sahib, to be able to order all these things—and to pay for them too!"
Here Mr. Rayner gave an ostentatious sigh which, however, was lost on his host, who seized the opportunity of giving vent to a rankling grievance.
"Yes, it was in your humble slave's heart to invite your friend, the new Assistant-Collector, to come and have coffee in this lovelee English room, and also to bestow many favours on that young man till he scorned me in such wise as I made known to your Honour in my chit. I expressed to your ear how his treatment was like hot charcoal thrown in my face."
"Yes, very ungrateful on Cheveril's part! But you must bear in mind, Sahib, that he's only a griffin, not an old diplomat like you. You may find him more promising next time. You and he and I will be drinking coffee together in this beautiful room, yet—take my word for it," said Mr. Rayner, in an encouraging tone as he eyed the Mahomedan closely.
"Nevere," replied Zynool, with a groan. "That one is not like Dorai Printer. I take measure of that young man, veree quick. No favour for your humble slave in that compound."
"Oh, you never can tell! And now I'll make a confidant of you, Zynool. That young man is a very particular friend of my lady. He will be coming to see us in Madras very soon. I shall not fail to tell him what a splendid fellow you are, and what a loyal servant of the Empire, and of the lovely English room you have here," Rayner continued, keeping his eye on the heavy face to watch the effect of his words, for he had a matter important to transact which had brought him to Puranapore, though it was not pressing legal business as he had indicated to his wife.
"The young man is a friend of your lady, say you? That is good! Then, La'yer Rayner, the road is straight. Your mem-sahib must doubtless do your Honour's will?" suggested Zynool, with an ugly leer.
Not having an evasive reply ready on the tip of his tongue, Rayner again applied himself to admiring his gaudy surroundings, though he almost regretted his recurring to the topic, when Zynool began to rub his fat hands gleefully, saying:
"But this is not the only English room I have on my premises. Come and see!" and drawing aside the portière he disclosed a bedroom, where a shiny new brass bedstead of the commonest order stood, surrounded by the regulation furnishings. "This, too, all from Oakes & Company, Madras, quite English and veree costlee"; and he rubbed his hands in childish glee as he gazed about on his possessions.
"By Jove, what a grand bed, I've a mind to repose on it," exclaimed Rayner, with well-simulated admiration.
"And would your Honour realee do your humble slave the joy of taking repose on thatt bed this veree night? If so, all can be arranged and quicklee too," cried Zynool with enthusiasm.
Mr. Rayner was considerably taken aback by the proposal to sleep in a native house. He had intended to travel a station or two down the line when he had finished his business with the Mussulman, and put up at the bungalow of a bachelor friend. But this eager offer of hospitality was not to be lightly refused, following as it did Zynool's irate mood, and he decided that prudence demanded a gracious compliance with the request.
Zynool, obviously delighted with the success of his suggestion, hurried off, all importance, to make arrangements for the entertainment of the English guest. The news instantly circulated from basement to house-top that the English sahib was to honour the house of his client, though half-an-hour previously his arrival had seemed to incense its master, and make confusion throughout the household.
Mr. Rayner's relations with the Mussulman had been of more than two years' standing. In fact Zynool Sahib had been one of the young barrister's earliest clients, and owing to Rayner's astuteness and daring he had been piloted round at least one ugly corner. If the truth must be told, since then the lawyer had more than once thrust his client into hot water. The pair had taken shares together in various doubtful ventures, at Rayner's instigation, encouraged by high interest, and had been markedly unsuccessful, so that when Zynool informed him that a really good investment was going a-begging in the shape of a piece of land in Puranapore, Rayner lent a ready ear. The land being the property of a Hindu, Zynool explained that he must keep entirely in the background, but was eager, for reasons of his own, to aid the purchase by underhand methods. The result was that the land in question became the property of Alfred Rayner, to pass shortly after into the hands of the Moslem community for double the price which the lawyer gave for it. Thus the mosque which was now such a bone of contention came into being, growing with the rapidity of Jack's beanstalk. Before the Hindus began to realise what a perpetual source of annoyance it was likely to prove, the Mahomedans were shouting their morning and evening prayer-calls from its jerry-built minaret. Zynool rubbed his fat hands with joy at the success of his plot to snub the Hindus, while Rayner's bag of rupees for the price of the site was a godsend to him, and had tided him through many months. But these ill-gotten gains had all melted away during the past season's extravagances. More serious still, the shares, which had seemed so promising, were threatening to pay no further dividends, and calls were looming in the distance. It was this black outlook which had brought the young lawyer to the house of the Mahomedan this afternoon, not indeed to announce to his client the threatened failure of their joint investments—that, he decided, must be kept in the dark—but to see whether he could negotiate a much needed loan on easier terms than those of the Madrassoukars. He considered it therefore worth the odiousness of being condemned to spend an evening in the crimson plush drawing-room and the discomfort of a night in the shining brass bedstead, if he could work his host up to that pitch of smiling compliance which would make his request an easier task than it seemed likely to be during the first few minutes of his call.
It was, however, with the cheque for five thousand rupees in his pocket-book, albeit with even a greater loss of self-respect than his dealings with the wily Mussulman had hitherto engendered, that Alfred Rayner stepped out at the low doorway in the weather-stained wall next morning. His host had ordered his gaudy little chariot to be in readiness to drive him to the railway station. It waited now as Zynool stood salaaming on the narrow pavement.
As Mr. Rayner was stepping into the carriage he caught sight of two Englishmen passing along the head of the street. They walked slowly. One was a short, broad-shouldered man, who was endeavouring to hold a white-covered umbrella over the head of his younger and taller companion as they laughed and chatted together.
"There goes Dr. Campbell, mine enemee," said Zynool, with a fierce scowl, "and the osser is that haughtee young man. What a pity he did not see your Honour at the house of your humble slave here," he added, with an air of disappointment.
Rayner had retreated into the depths of the bandy before he ventured to make any reply.
"So that's Dr. Campbell, is it? Not a very formidable looking person! I should say, Zynool, that you're a match for that little man with the hollow chest," he said, with a careless laugh as he settled himself among the cushions, while Zynool's dark face filled the window.
Rayner was longing to ask him the question which he was anxiously asking himself. "Had Mark caught sight of him at the Mussulman's door?" He fervently hoped not, and made an absent, formal salaam as he took leave of his host.
He congratulated himself that the two gentlemen, being on foot, were probably going to the dispensary while their carriage waited near, and that there would be no risk of his meeting them. He was therefore not a little chagrined when the first person he saw standing on the platform was the Assistant-Collector.
Perceiving that an encounter was inevitable, Rayner went forward with a gracious smile.
"Who would have thought of seeing you here, Cheveril!"
"Why, I should rather say, who would have thought of seeing you at our little Puranapore," responded Mark, with that direct look in his eye which had already annoyed Rayner more than once.
"To a dead certainty he saw me at Zynool's door," thought Rayner, who replied lightly, "Business, sir, business! Trying to get that fellow Zynool to pay up what he owes me. He happened to be one of my Puranapore clients before my last furlough. We barristers don't always get paid in advance, I assure you!"
Mark recalled with discomfort Mr. Worsley's remark as to Zynool having been helped by a "shady pleader," but he was glad to dismiss the topic for the present by polite enquiries after Mrs. Rayner.
"Oh, Hester is as fit as a fiddle! Going in for no end of dissipation, and still keeps her English roses," her husband replied briskly. "Come and see for yourself, Cheveril! My wife was a bit disappointed that you declined all our invitations."
"Please tell Mrs. Rayner that I have not been a day absent since I joined, or I should have taken a run to Madras to see my friends there."
"Yes, I believe the Collector is rather of the slave-driving order. Between touring and office work he grinds his subs. pretty hard—so Printer used to tell me."
"That's not a fair representation by any means," said Mark quickly. "Touring and office work are both in the day's routine, and I like both."
"Lucky man," said the lawyer, with more honest conviction than his words generally implied as he glanced half enviously, half admiringly, at the strong, reliant face of the young civilian which told of faithful days and peaceful nights.
"Oh, by the way, Rayner, let me introduce you to our doctor! He is taking a run to Madras to see a case he has in the hospital there. You'll enjoy Campbell's talk. He's an awfully bright fellow," Mark added, thinking that such an acquaintance might be salutary for this shifty looking man. He was glancing round in search of the doctor whom he saw talking to a Hindu official.
"Oh, thanks, no," replied Rayner, with a shrug of his shoulders. "I've got a brief to study in the train. I must deny myself the pleasure of Dr. Campbell's acquaintance."
He was about to hurry off to take his seat when he remembered that he had made no definite arrangement concerning the suggested visit to Clive's Road. "You'll come and put up with us for Christmas, of course, Cheveril? It will be Hester's first Christmas here as well as yours—jolly to spend it together! Shall I tell her of the pleasure in store?"
"I'm certainly counting on seeing Mrs. Rayner then. Do please say so with all kind words from me. But I shall be putting up at the Club. Mr. Worsley has asked me to be his guest there, and to help him to entertain a friend he expects to arrive then."
"Ah, well, one must keep on the right side of one's chief, of course. You're a shrewd man, Cheveril! I'll be able to assure your friend Hester that you're shaping-in beautifully. At all events you'll give us one evening at Clive's Road?"
Mark cordially assented and turned away to make a parting salute to the doctor as the train was moving off.
Hester awaited her husband's return home with some uneasiness. She wondered how he would receive the disclosure that the day at Ennore was an accomplished fact. Being neither secretive nor wanting in courage, she would have much preferred to have explained previous to the expedition that she had felt obliged to negotiate about the carriages, and had already paid for their hire. She was therefore pleasantly taken by surprise on the morning after Mr. Rayner's return, when they sat together at early tea under the shade of the banyan tree, when he suddenly turned to her with a penitent air, saying:
"Look here, Hester, I behaved abominably about the hire of those bandies for yourprotégées. Forgive my hasty temper, sweet wife, and as a proof of your full forgiveness accept this." He stooped down to kiss her and laid a crisp note in her hand.
"A hundred rupees! Oh, Alfred, but that's a fortune—much more than the cost of the carriages! You remember the hire was only to be seventy-five rupees—and they're paid. Even the bill has been filed. The first on the little file mother slipped into the netting of my portmanteau! 'The only way to keep accounts straight is to use these,' she said. And it does give one a sense of satisfaction when one slips the bill into the file 'Paid!'"
"Oh, well, as to that, there's no sense in wishing to pay one's bills before they're a day old—that doesn't pay, in fact! Tradesmen reckon on their bills clinging to the file 'unpaid' for some time, and charge accordingly. But as far as the present trifle is concerned it doesn't matter. As to the surplus—the extra twenty-five rupees—keep them for chiffons, my dear!"
"I know well what I want to do with every anna of my treasure trove! You haven't asked how I came to have money to pay for the carriages, Alfred! It was really the remains of a little store of sovereigns in my dressing-case; I've been hoarding it for Christmas presents to send home, and now, like the story of the widow's cruise of oil, it has multiplied. I shall be able to send for those alluring hawkers. I've always tried to turn away my eyes from beholding their wares when they spread them out on the verandah, conscious that I wasn't an intending customer."
"Oh, but you needn't be so sensitive! They don't in the least mind as long as they are allowed to spread them on the verandah. But if you really want the hawkers you'd better give orders to Veeraswamy to summon the crew and have a bargaining. Mind, about half they ask is the real value of the article. I expect you'll get dreadfully imposed on."
"I hope not, for I'm anxious to get the worth of every rupee. There are so many to send to. I must find something for father, though that won't be so easy. About mother, I'll have no difficulty. But, Alfred, is there nobody you want to send a Christmas-box to in the homeland?" asked Hester, with kind eyes resting on her husband.
"Oh, no doubt there are sundry who would accept one with pleasure. But you know, I'm a relationless being, Hester. Now that Aunt Flo is gone, there isn't a soul belonging to me. It's better than having undesirable relatives, isn't it? What a horror that would be, to be sure! But I'm glad you've thought of the Rectory people. I owe them heaps, Hester, for having allowed me to carry off the only daughter of the house—and such a daughter! And you're having a good time, are you not, dearest? Young Stapleton was just remarking the other day at the Club that you were the prettiest and most popular bride of the season. I'm so glad you're such a glorious success," he added, taking her hand caressingly, and raising it to his lips. "I'm going to write to your mother one day soon, and tell her how well her transplanted English rose is doing here!"
"Don't boast about me in that strain, Alfred! It would not be convincing to mother, though I know she'd love to have a letter from you. But that nonsense of young Stapleton's, for instance, she would positively dislike," returned Hester with decision, for she was eager to prevent this husband of hers, whom her father half in fun maintained to be still "an unknown quantity," from betraying any trace of the curious little selfish vanity concerning his own possessions, simply because they were his, which he was apt to show at times. Loving him as she did in spite of his faults, she desired like a true wife to screen them from all eyes, especially from the sensitive, high-souled, innermost circle of her home.
"All right, Hester, I'll submit the letter for your approval. You can expunge all that you think would not go down in that quarter," said her husband lightly.
Hester, in the fullness of her heart, thought now to enliven their talk by giving her husband some passages from the happy hours spent at Ennore, and began to expatiate on the delight of the girls on its varied attractions, and how all the arrangements were carried out without a single hitch, Waller having sent roomy carriages and good horses, and as he promised, "done the Misses proud!"
"But, by the way, there did threaten to be a little fiasco," she said, recalling an incident she had half forgotten. "I really must tell you about that, Alfred. It was at the afternoon meeting the day before. I was telling the girls the secret of the treat which I thought had been well kept by those two I met on the road. It must have leaked out somewhere, for just as I was unfolding it, the door was pushed open and a striking-looking girl stepped in and sat down. Some rather sulky glances were directed towards her, I noticed, and seemed to me to ask, 'Is this new-comer to share the privilege of the faithful attenders of the class?' I thought I must at once clear the atmosphere and begin to explain that Mrs. Fellowes' invitation was limited to a number, and so exclude any hope the interloper might have had of being included. I made some remark, intended really to soften the possible disappointment, but the girl answered very haughtily and rudely, and after some words which I couldn't catch, she flounced out of the room, banging the door after her. But we must get hold of her again! I must set Mrs. Fellowes on her track, she has a magical influence over these girls. I don't think the girl liked the look of me—she assumed such a black and scowling air. Perhaps I put it rather awkwardly when I explained that she couldn't share in the treat. Yes, poor thing, I must see what can be done! Leila Baltus, that was her name! Rather pretty name, isn't it?"
Mr. Rayner had been listening somewhat absently to Hester's narration as he scanned the last evening's paper. At the mention of the familiar name he started so that Hester exclaimed:
"Are the mosquitoes attacking you, Alfred? I thought you boasted that they neglected you, bestowing all their attention on poor me!"
He was glad that the sheets of theMadras Mailwere concealing his face at the moment.
"Leila Baltus," he repeated slowly, after a moment's pause, in which he had succeeded in steadying his voice to a tone of unconcern. "You surely don't call that a pretty name! Shows what a griffin you are! Why, it's one of those hateful half-caste names—as common as mud, and as ugly," he added, though he was aware that he only knew one family of the name. Presently he threw the newspaper to the ground with an angry swish, and jumping up confronted Hester, saying, in a voice trembling with the passion engendered by fear:
"I'll tell you what it is, Hester! I'll not have you crawled upon by those vile half-castes at every turn—dangerous liars and thieves, every one of them! You must really seek your pleasure elsewhere than with such low associates. In fact, the way you're going on is quite compromising to me. Here am I struggling for an assured position at the bar, while you are haunting the East-Indian dens of Vepery. It isn't loyal of you! You shan't ruin me by such ongoings—that's the long and the short of it!"
He stood in front of his wife's lounging chair with uplifted arm and a fierce look in his eyes which Hester had never seen there before. She grew white as her morning robe; there was pain and wonder in her eyes, but no fear, as she gazed at him. In a moment he dropped his arm, bit his lip savagely, and putting his hands in his pockets walked with slow, unsteady steps towards the house.
Hester covered her face with her hands, and sat for some time in troubled, silent meditation. Then she glanced up with a gentle, subdued smile.
"How foolish I have been! He was so happy and kind a few minutes ago when he gave me that money, and was not even angry when I told him I had paid for the carriage hire. And then I must needs go on and chatter about the treat, though I ought to have remembered that he detested the whole subject. Poor Alfred, no wonder his temper got the better of him! Why, have I not seen my father more than a little ruffled when he was made to listen to bothering domestic things? And don't I remember mother saying: 'We must protect your father from this,' when any sudden worry arose? And here I am, her daughter, showing no more sense than a magpie! I've myself to blame for this outbreak of Alfred's, and must go and makel'amende honorable!"
She rose quickly from her chair and hurried across the brown turf towards the verandah. Her husband was, however, engaged with a client in the writing-room, and when they met again at breakfast she was thankful to see he had quite regained his good-humour. He smilingly introduced his visitor, a young subaltern from Palaveram, whom he had invited to stay to breakfast.
The youth's resemblance to her brother at once drew Hester to him. His fair wavy hair, his blue eyes, and the shape of his forehead reminded her strongly of Charlie; but there the likeness ended, she thought, as she gazed pitifully at the blanched, haggard face, the dull, faded eyes, and the lines of care about the sensitive mouth.
"Poor boy, he's got into trouble, no doubt! But Alfred is so clever he'll be able to give him the best advice and get him well out of it," Hester decided optimistically, noting her husband's kindly air towards his young client; and all through breakfast she set herself to aid his efforts.
Her winning air of kindness seemed to work like a charm, as she talked of English days, of Worcestershire fields and lanes and homesteads, finding that they both belonged to the same county. The boy's face lost somewhat of its strained expression; into the blue eyes came a sparkle of brightness, and the smile which reminded Hester of her brother's met hers with an air of guileless confidence.
Nothing pleased her husband better than Hester's simple unconscious power of winning the golden opinions of his clients. It was indeed an asset he valued. His face was radiant with good-humour as he took leave of her to go to the High Court, arranging to return early and drive with her to a polo match on the Island, a spectacle which Hester's liking for horses made always welcome.
As they were driving home that evening Mr. Rayner suddenly said to his wife: "Why, Hester, you have actually never asked for your old friend, Cheveril! Of course I saw him at Puranapore. I declare I'll be malicious enough, and in your presence too, to tell him of your heartless conduct next time we meet. That will take down the august civilian a bit!" he added, with an unpleasant smile which was lost on Hester.
"But, Alfred, I never even knew you had been to Puranapore. Your chit merely said you were going away on pressing business and I somehow took it for granted you were going to where that poor boy came from—Palaveram, isn't it? So you were at Mark's station and saw him?" she said eagerly. "Do tell me all about your visit! Does he like the place? Has he got a nice house, and how does he get on with the Collector? You thought they would be at daggers drawn!"
Hester's variety of questions gave her husband a relieving loophole. He would, if possible, make a selection and only reply to those that suited him. He quickly decided to ignore all mention of his visit to Zynool, and to endeavour to convey the impression that he had seen more of the Assistant-Collector than he actually had, if only she did not press him for details about the English quarter. He told her that he had, of course, given Cheveril a gracious invitation to spend Christmas at Clive's Road, but he had rejected it, preferring the Club. He felt some slight surprise on perceiving that his wife did not evince disappointment at this announcement. Indeed, though Hester would hardly have acknowledged it, and eager as she was to keep in touch with this friend of old days, she felt it was best that his visit to Clive's Road should not be repeated, that Alfred and he should not again come into close quarters. Her husband's nerves were so highly strung and his bitter prejudice against the community to which Mark made no secret of belonging, all made it desirable that there should be little contact between them. Then, too, those little jars during Mark's short stay had left a deep mark on Hester, and brought a flush of vexation to her face every time she recalled them. There was no doubt that Mark must have overheard Alfred's discourtesy to Mr. Morpeth, and also, she feared, his cruel words to herself. Yes, it would be best that he should come for a quiet evening only, and she would try to make it bright, and without any jar for her husband or her friend, she decided with sweet serenity, accepting the limitations of the lot to which, she was feeling every day more conscious, her husband's peculiarities of temperament consigned her.
"Cheveril looks uncommonly well and brisk," remarked Mr. Rayner. "Puranapore must be suiting him. I expect he is already dropping that quixotic notion of proclaiming the dark spot. And upon my word, I was just thinking when I looked at him that no one could detect the touch of the tar brush! He looks quite the pucka service man already. Old Worsley's companionship must be educating! By the way, Hester, I've been thinking we might try to get hold of Worsley when he's here, I rather want to pick up acquaintance with him. I was once introduced to him at the Club, so I should like you to ask him to dinner with Cheveril, and, of course, a regulation number of picked guests. Let's fix the date, and then you can write to Puranapore! Mrs. Glanton will be capturing the pair for Christmas day, if I mistake not; the Brigadier and the Collector are old friends. Let's say the day before Christmas then. Get our lists full and leave a couple of places for the Puranapore contingent, and then you can annex them nearer the time. Yes, that will be best!"
"You always plan things out so methodically, Alfred! I suppose that comes from your legal training. As for me, I prefer to let things arrange themselves," said Hester with a smile, relieved to see that her husband had forgotten the morning's annoyance concerning which she continued to feel penitently that she was the sole cause. She decided that she would still continue to help Mrs. Fellowes in her work, but would not again obtrude these interests on her husband. With tact and tenderness the time might come when he would be disabused of the prejudice which he nursed against all Eurasians; and who would be more fit to break it down than her old friend, who, Charlie used to say, recalled to him Sir Galahad, whose "strength was as the strength of ten because his heart was pure!" Yes, it would be quite enough joy for her to have one or two good talks with Mark about things old and new, for they would have many mutual experiences to exchange in this their first season in the Eastern land.
The pink haze of the Indian sunset had faded as they drove along the leafy roads. A glorious yellow moon was rising and a soft breeze from the sea rustled among the branching palms overhead. On Hester and her husband fell the peace of the twilight as they sat hand in hand, drinking in the serenity of the scene while the landau bowled along on its easy springs.
The coachman had been told to drive at a slow pace, and just as the carriage was turning into Clive's Road, Hester's attention was attracted by an old woman who was seated on the stump of a tree by the roadside. On catching sight of the carriage, she sprang up quickly, her wrinkled face lit up by a pair of dark piercing eyes.
"Alfred, I'm sure that woman wants to speak to us," said Hester. "She is one of your clients, perhaps."
There was silence for a moment. Mr. Rayner had hurriedly withdrawn his hand from his wife's and seemed pondering.
"Yes, you're right, Hester! That woman is one of my clients. I'd better see what the creature wants, though it's past business hours."
"Poor soul, perhaps she expected to find you at the High Court. It's late for her to have travelled so far out. It's good of you, Alfred, to have pity on her old legs," said Hester, as her husband ordered the landau to pull up. He got out hurriedly without another word and went back to where the old woman stood with statuesque pose.
"How kind-hearted Alfred is to be sure!" thought his wife. "Many a young barrister wouldn't have allowed himself to be bothered like this after hours."
"Just drive on, Hester," Rayner called back. "I can walk home, it's just a step!"
She expostulated, saying she would wait.
"Not at all! The walk will do me good. You'll have time to have a little rest before dressing for dinner. Drive on," he called to the coachman, and advanced to meet the waiting woman, whom he accosted with an angry frown. "Now, Mrs. Baltus, what game is this you're up to, dogging my footsteps so that I can't have peace to drive home of an evening with my wife?"
"Your wife, forsooth! 'Tis my girl that should have been thatt if you weren't the false snake you be," retorted the woman, the moonlight revealing her wrinkled face, distorted by passion.
"Look here, Mrs. Baltus, I'm not going to stand any more of your vile accusations. Let me tell you, you have not an atom of proof that I ever meant to marry your daughter. And what's more, I've been a fool ever to let you see the colour of my money; and, my word, you've seen the last of my charity, for that's what it's been pure and simple! I'll stand no blackmailing from you or anybody else," said Mr. Rayner in a bullying tone, as he folded his arms with a resolute air.
"No proof, do you say, Alfred Rayner?" cried the woman shrilly. "We'll see about that! There are more la'yers in Madras besides you! Didn't you come billin' and cooin' with my poor girl many an evening, and was glad to eat my prawn curry, and——"
"Oh, that prawn curry! Shall I never hear the end of it? Anyhow I've paid for it fifty times over! Did you ever for a moment dream I would wed a half-caste like your daughter? And again I ask you how you dare come crawling to my compound? Why are you here to-night?"
"I'll just tell you why! In another five minutes I mean to be in your verandah, and may be further in, a-talkin' to your fine English missus and tellin' her what sort o' a blackguard she's gotten for a husband," said Mrs. Baltus, with a defiant air.
"So it's spite and revenge that's brought you tramping all the way from Vepery?"
"Well, that's my girl's side of it, and no wonder. But look here, young man, I'll make a bargain with you. I'll defer my visit to-night; and if you'll give me a few rupees, I'll crawl away and not disturb your fine lady. Leila and me's stonybroke—it's as true as I stand here!"
"Well," returned Mr. Rayner briskly, putting his hand in his pocket. "I'll make a bargain with you too. You've got to promise two things before I give you one pie. First, that you will never set foot in Clive's Road on any pretext; second, that Leila does not set foot in the conventicle for girls my wife patronises in Vepery."
"Ha, ha! Well named, 'a conventicle' indeed! I'll undertake for my girl, she'll not darken that door again. Why, the poor sweet girl only took a peep to get a sight of your fine English missus. No harm in that, Alfred!" said the woman in an ingratiating tone.
"Well, what's past is past! Do you agree then that you cease to annoy me in any way? If you do, I'll send my horse-keeper to turn you out. Mind what I say! You haven't any legal claim on me—not for a single pie, but I'll open my purse this time because you're down in your luck. Here's a ten-rupee note, and see you stick to your bargain."
"Certainlee," snapped the woman, as her long brown fingers closed on the note, and turning she hobbled away.
"Well, that's over for this time," muttered Mr. Rayner, "but if I hadn't stopped the creature she would have forced her way into the verandah in no time, then there would have been misery to pay; and just as I was trying to throw off all my worries too, and Hester and I were sitting in the landau like two doves in this glorious moonlight."
There is no doubt that one of the minor pleasures of the hot Indian hours for the mem-sahib is a morning spent in a cool corner of the verandah while the hawker unfastens his bales of goods and displays his fascinating wares; and that pleasure is enhanced when shared by the companionship of a sympathetic friend of the feminine gender, or even one of the masculine if he is of the right sort.
Hester had invited Mrs. Fellowes to share the pleasant responsibility of choosing the Christmas presents for home, and she considered herself fortunate in securing her busy friend. A happy, wholesome-minded woman in all things, Mrs. Fellowes admitted that she enjoyed the display of the beautiful wares, and even entered into the spirit of the oriental chaffering which made part of the stock-in-trade of those Eastern pedlars.
It was Rayner Dorai himself who had given orders to his butler to fetch the important functionaries. He had been commanded to summon Yacoob, a little old Mussulman who had more than once presented himself with appealing eyes to inquire whether the mem-sahib would permit him to show his wares—"no buying, seeing only!"
Hester had succumbed once to the temptation, and had bought a trifle; but since that occasion she had resisted Yacoob's appeals, promising that when she required such things she would not fail to buy from him. Veeraswamy had therefore been duly dispatched to Triplicane, the Mussulman quarter, where he said he knew Yacoob dwelt. On the way, however, he happened to encounter Ismail, another hawker, accompanied by a couple of coolies carrying his bales, which betokened him rather a superior gentleman of the trade. Here was an opportunity which Veeraswamy could not resist. Announcing to the Mussulman that he had been commissioned by Rayner Dorai to fetch a hawker, he intimated to Ismail that in return for a littlebacksheeshhe might be the fortunate man.
The hawker was a muscular-looking, sleek, well-fed man of pale olive complexion and cheeks, which showed ruddy under the brown skin. From bushy over-hanging eyebrows peered out a pair of bold, cunning eyes, and his square chin was adorned by a dense black beard which he was wagging now in gratified approval as he selected a four-anna piece from his money-bag and held it out to the Hindu.
"Son of a pig, wouldst thou insult me with only that?" flashed Veeraswamy. "I go on to Triplicane to look for another."
"Halt, pariah dog, dost thou know that not one pie need touch thy greedy palm? I go to the Rayner compound, I display my treasures, mem-sahib buys," returned Ismail, spreading out his hands dramatically.
"For one rupee only will I sell my honour," replied Veeraswamy, raising his first finger.
"Wallah, one rupee? 'Twill need too much buying by the mem-sahib to recoup that! Here then, I give eight annas, greedy one!"
"Not one pie less than one rupee," said the butler, setting his head on one side, and planting himself on the path that led to Clive's Road.
"Take then, thou pariah dog, and a bright new coin too," said Ismail, opening his palm to part with the rupee which he had ready, knowing from the first that it would be exacted as the butler's commission.
"You will find the mem-sahib in the verandah, also mem-sahib Fellowes. They sit with pot full of gold awaiting Ismail's coming," announced Veeraswamy with a grin, as he prepared to push on his way to Triplicane.
"Where, son of a pig, where off to now? Dost thou not return with me to the mem-sahibs?" cried Ismail, with a scowl as he watched him.
"I come, I follow quickly! I go only to get some ghee for my curry from the village near by."
Shaking his head, Ismail already debited his rupee as a bad debt, and went on his way along the red laterite road followed by the patient coolies, who ploughed their way through the red dust like beasts of burden under their heavy load, with no covering for their brown skin save their loin cloths and big turbans.
Ismail began to doubt whether Veeraswamy's commission was not altogether bogus, but his sleek countenance broke into a huge smile when he reached the verandah, and pushing aside a corner of one of the green chinks he caught sight of the two English ladies, who sat chatting together in the most promising manner.
"Oh, here he comes already! Your boy has been uncommonly smart surely," exclaimed Mrs. Fellowes, looking up from the silk sock she was knitting, one of her joys being to keep the colonel in beautiful socks of her own manufacture.
Ismail was salaaming profoundly, but his smile changed to a scowl as he overheard Hester say:
"Ah, but this is not the dear little Yacoob! My boy surely can't have understood the one I wanted."
Ismail hoped devoutly that Veeraswamy would continue to misunderstand. "I werry fine stock, mem-sahib will see," he said eagerly, pushing into the verandah without waiting for an invitation. Beckoning to his coolies, they trudged up and quickly deposited their burdens on the rattan matting of the verandah, and with low salaams hurried down the wide steps again to dispose themselves under the nearest tree and regale themselves with betel-nut, which never failed to find a lodgment in some fold of their linen cloth.
Ismail, being a man of great astuteness as well as of large experience, at once perceived that the butler's report was correct, and that the mem-sahib was on this occasion an intending customer, and an eager one too. He noted also how her pretty eyes, soft grey blue like a monsoon sky, lighted up when she caught sight of his embroideries which he began deftly to display. How fortunate was his good knowledge of "Englishe," he thought, which enabled him to understand even her asides to the older lady, whom he also hoped to captivate as a customer. The young mem-sahib evidently wanted not one thing but many things.
"Yes, I have one beautee smoke-cap, just suiting one padre sahib!" He produced thereupon the article and sold it for the price he asked. Then his richly embroidered table covers sewed on black cloth were examined, but the hawker's face grew dark as he overheard Mrs. Fellowes remarking:
"We must examine carefully the stuff they are sewn on. They often put the most exquisite work on the joined up tail of a dress coat, or even a bit out of a pair of trousers."
Mrs. Fellowes' first finger thereupon went right through a worn-out patch in a gorgeous table cover.
"Oh, that would never do for mother," said Hester, at once rejecting the handsome embroidery. "She would never forgive the immorality of it, for one thing!"
"Well, my dear, what you must do in future is to order the cloth from home and give it to a faithful man to embroider."
"Ah, here comes my friend, Yacoob!" exclaimed Hester, as there appeared a little, refined-looking old man with delicate features, large well-set eyes, and a sweet sensitive face.
"Oh, yes, I've heard of Yacoob," said Mrs. Fellowes. "I believe he is the most beautiful embroiderer in Madras, and the most honest," she whispered, but not so low that it did not catch the quick ear of Ismail, who looked furious as Yacoob stood smilingly salaaming to the ladies.
Yacoob was far from being a rich man like Ismail, and had carried his own goods unaided, save by a slender boy, his grandson. Veeraswamy had, of course, hurried to Triplicane to summon the good little hawker, whom he found sitting cross-legged in his pandal, sewing exquisite embroidery on the finest of white muslin, surrounded by several generations of his family, the youngest members being dusky babies crawling about the carpet on which he sat; yet no spot or stain ever reached Yacoob's needlework.
On hearing of the mem-sahib's summons he bundled his sewing into a green silk kerchief which looked none of the cleanest, but which must have been in some occult way warranted not to contaminate Yacoob's precious art.
He looked sad and pathetic as he caught sight of Ismail's jealous frown. It was evident his sensitive nature shrank from the rough rivalry of his class. With feeble fingers he began to untie his parcel of goods when Hester said:
"Come, Yacoob, my heart is set on having one of your beautiful beetle-wing dresses. I want it for my cousin," she added, turning to Mrs. Fellowes, "I think she would like one done on black best."
"Salaams, mem-sahib, but I only have the best shining beetle-wings," said Ismail, making a cringing progress towards Hester as he held up yards of net embroidered with iridescent beetle-wings.
"Now, let's examine this!" said Mrs. Fellowes. "Since you want a dress, the net must, at least, be new! This is lovely work, Ismail, but what about the net! It isn't black, it's the colour of dusty spider's web! Let me see one of yours, Yacoob."
The little man brought the required length with a gracious salaam and an assured smile.
"Now, this will do, the net is jet black and strong!"
"Very well, I'll have this, Yacoob," said Hester. "How much does it cost?"
A very moderate price was named, but at once Ismail came forward saying harshly: "Too much charging, mem-sahib. I giving for seven rupees less. A very best one too—not one I shewing first."
He turned to rummage in his bales, but Hester was not to be moved. Little Yacoob's beetle-wing dress was laid aside to be admired for many a day across the sea.
Fortunately for Ismail he was able to display some wares which Yacoob's slender capital did not admit of, so that he was not without profit in the morning's dealings; but being of a surly, jealous disposition he owed a fresh grudge against Yacoob that he should have been preferred, and a still more bitter grudge against the butler for his share in the transaction.
At length all the purchases were completed. Yacoob was departing with a lightened bale of goods and a full purse, his old face wearing an air of gracious courtesy, when a corner of the rattan blinds was lightly pushed aside and a girl's face appeared.
"Why, that is the girl I was telling you about, Mrs. Fellowes!" exclaimed Hester. "How good you happen to be here! Perhaps she has thought better of it and come to enrol."
Hester rose from her chair, and hurried across the verandah. The blind had been dropped, but when she raised it, there stood the girl, spell-bound, it seemed, staring intently with parched lips and dilating eyes on the young wife who looked at her with a friendly smile.
"How do you do! I recollect you quite well. You looked in at our meeting one afternoon. I'm glad you've come this morning, you'll see Mrs. Fellowes herself. Do come in!"
The girl hesitated, then curiosity or some other feeling seemed to prevail, and she drew herself up with a repressed air and silently followed the mistress of the house.
"This is Leila Baltus I told you of," said Hester, standing in front of Mrs. Fellowes' chair.
Something seemed to irritate the girl, who said in a bellicose tone: "Ho, so you've got hold of my name, have you? Well, I'm glad and I'm sorry," she muttered, scanning Hester eagerly, while Mrs. Fellowes eyes rested on her with a meditative glance.
"Oh, you needn't be eyeing me up and down like that," retorted the girl, with an insolent toss of her head. "You'll not catch me sitting on a bench like a chit of a schoolgirl after I've seen life. La, you could hardly expect Leila Baltus to do thatt at this time o' day," she added, with a laugh.
Before she had finished speaking Mrs. Fellowes' eyes were upon her knitting again. Her face looked grave and troubled, but she made no remark.
"But won't you just come once and see what a happy afternoon we have?" asked Hester in a coaxing tone. "We have some beautiful patterns for clothes, and there is reading aloud and singing," she urged, looking into the bitter face with a winning smile of which her friend, glancing up suddenly, seemed to catch the pathos, as a ray of sunlight from aslant the green blinds lit up the fair young face till it looked as an angel's might. Mrs. Fellowes sighed deeply as she bent over her work again, and did not let her eyes rest further on the stranger.
"Well, I'll not come to your meeting! That's flat! But no offence meant. I say, does your husband happen to be at home?" asked the girl sharply. "It's with La'yer Rayner I've got a bit of business."
"Oh, you want to see my husband on business, do you? You are one of his clients, perhaps? He is at the High Court, but you might see him by appointment," said Hester, thinking after all she had made a stupid mistake.
"Oh, as to thatt, I'm not particular anxious to face those business dens. Maybe I'll get a peep of him yet, and a word of him too, nearer home, some day. I'll be stepping now. Sorry I can't oblige you about the class," she added, glancing down with malicious air at Mrs. Fellowes, who still sat with her eyes fixed on her knitting. "Maybe you'll be good enough to mention to Mister Rayner as how Leila Baltus called—his client—is that how you name it?" she asked, with a titter; then, drawing her tawdry black lace scarf round her handsome shoulders, she walked away and disappeared into the bright sunshine beyond the green blinds.
"Well, we haven't made much of Miss Leila Baltus after all," said Hester, throwing herself into her chair. "I suppose you came to the conclusion at once that she wasn't a hopeful 'Friendly?'"
"I did, my dear," returned Mrs. Fellowes gravely. "I don't want to discourage you, but I fear for the present at least we can't reach that bit of stony ground. And if you will not think me hard, I should advise you to leave Miss Leila Baltus severely alone."
Mrs. Fellowes was of the type that "hopeth all things"; her advice, therefore, took Hester by surprise, but her great respect for her opinion on all matters made her wish to discuss the subject further. Just then, however, the conversation was interrupted by the gong sounding for tiffin.
As Mrs. Fellowes passed through the drawing-room on her young hostess's arm there was a shadow on her face which had not left it since the appearance of the mysterious visitor, and which returned to it in after hours when she recalled the unpleasant incident.
Meanwhile Leila Baltus with rapid steps had left the Rayners' compound, and stood glancing up and down the road as if in search of someone. Presently she perceived an elderly woman lurking behind a jungly hedge, and joined her, saying bitterly:
"No manner of use—only wasted our shoe leather! You were quite out of your reckoning, mother, in thinkin' we'd catch him at tiffin time. Alf ain't so easy caught, worse luck!"
"So you haven't seen him?" said the older woman, with a dispirited sigh. "Why, but this was to be your trump card, you boasted—and it's failed!"
"Not quite, for I've been inside the verandah, and seen her in her own house that should have been mine. I could have put a knife into her, for all that she's a pleasant, soft-spoken lady. Somehow I didn't get my tongue proper loosed on her! But I hate her, yes, I hate her, all the more that she's so fair and prettee"; and the girl raised a clenched fist and shook it in the air.
"Ay, you mind, Leila, how he twitted me with our being black half-castes? But I'll be even with Alfred Rayner yet!" cried the old woman shrilly, swaying from very weariness as she tramped along the hot, dusty road.
"Come, mother, I'll tell you what she was dressed in. It'll shorten the road," said the girl, with an effort to be cheerful, as she cast a pitying glance at the stumbling figure by her side, and drew her mother's arm into hers.
"Well, her dress wasn't silk, it wasn't even fine sprigged muslin, but just cotton, think of that—no better than bazaar dungerie, or your own morning wrapper. But, oh, it was such a beautee! It was pale blue, and it had lovelee gathers on the bodice, smockin', I think they call it. You see it in the fashion plates. It's my belief I could imitate thatt if only money weren't so hard to get," she wound up with a sigh.
"Trust me, Leila, I'll have another and a bigger note out of him in no time. I've taken the measure of him. He's a coward as well as a villain. I declare he's no better than if he was a native. Did you ever notice his hands? There's no strength there—just slim, long fingers like a half-caste's. Yes, I'll be even with that young man yet," cried the woman, with undaunted spirit as she trudged along, weary and footsore.
The chairs and tables of the verandah at Clive's Road were still strewn with Hester's purchases when her husband returned from the High Court. She was delighted with his sympathetic attitude and with his approval of her choice of gifts. He was eager also to help her in affixing cards with the names, so dear and familiar to her, and loving Christmas wishes on each. His zeal even reached the unwonted climax of rummaging in a godown for tin-lined cases and helping her to pack her offerings. At length all was finished, and they sank on their lounging chairs with a sense of a well-earned rest.
Never had Hester felt in closer unison with her husband or more radiantly happy. The deal packing case lay near, requiring only the coming of the "tinie-smith" in the morning to solder its lining down. Every now and then she cast loving looks upon it, seeing visions of what pleasure its arrival would bring to the beloved inmates of the Rectory, while her husband gaily congratulated her in having made a hundred rupees buy so many pretty things. "And from Ismail too, a hard-fisted rascal, follows the profession of asoukar, a money-lender—as well as that of a hawker—swindled a client of mine lately."
"Oh, that reminds me, Alfred. There was a client of yours in search of you here just before tiffin——"
"A client? Young Hyde from Palaveram?"
"Oh, no, I wish it had been, poor fellow! No, it was a haughty, inscrutable-looking young woman, to whom Mrs. Fellowes seemed to take an instinctive dislike, and she's generally so charitable. Poor thing, I thought at first she was coming to enrol for our 'Friendly.' But I think I once asked you before if you knew her by name," said Hester, suddenly pausing. She certainly had not connected Alfred's outburst of temper with the name of this girl, but she felt she ought to have remembered that the very mention of any Eurasian seemed to make her husband angry.
"Dear me, Hester, how you do meander on!" said Mr. Rayner irritably. "What was the girl's name?"
"Leila Baltus," answered Hester meekly. "She said you would know who she was—in fact, it was you she came to see."
"Never heard of such a person in my life! She's no client of mine, be assured of that—more likely a lying half-caste beggar!"
Hester saw that her husband looked blanched as if by uncontrollable anger—or was it agitation? He was silent for a moment, then he asked, evidently with an effort to assume an unconcerned tone: "Did the creature say what she wanted? Did she give any reason for her visit?"
"Not in the least! I think she said she would see you some other time. She certainly called herself a client," replied Hester dejectedly, for it was borne in upon her that her husband's sudden source of annoyance came after all from the mention of this girl's name. He did know Leila Baltus, though he denied all knowledge of her! It was a staggering revelation to the young wife. She turned her clear eyes on her husband's averted profile and longed to say: "This secrecy, this prevarication is much harder to bear than anything you may have to tell me!"
On his side, Alfred Rayner was dwelling, with as much honest regret as his nature was capable of, on his having been unfortunate enough to have been betrayed into useless lying concerning a matter which he might have dealt with more effectually by acknowledging his former flirtation—now hateful to him—with this Eurasian girl. To have assured Hester, as he had assured the old woman on the road, that her daughter had no possible hold on him, but was simply blackmailing. But what would the straight-forward Hester think if he laid bare the whole matter now when she recalled that not five minutes ago he had disavowed all knowledge of the girl? No, the remedy would be worse than the trouble, he decided peevishly. He rose from his chair complaining of a headache, and went sullenly to bed.
Christmas gaieties were now in the air. The pleasant life-long associations which cluster round that season for Anglo-Indians seem to urge them to almost feverish anxiety to celebrate it with increased zeal in their exile. The whole community in fact catches the contagion. The natives, both civil and sepoy, look forward to "Kismas" as a time of gifts andtomashas; while the Eurasian community vie with each other in imitating its time-honoured rites.
To Hester Rayner its approach brought more than a suspicion of homesickness. She remembered sadly that the glad old greetings would sound for other ears than hers in the dear home far away, while to her husband, the chief preoccupation seemed the success of the impending dinner-party on which he had set his heart. The invitations had been duly issued by Hester, and to his satisfaction the hoped-for guests had all responded, two covers being reserved for the Collector of Puranapore and his Assistant.
The dinner had been arranged on an even more lavish scale than any of their former entertainments. The rarest flowers procurable were ordered. The menu was to be purveyed by D'Angelis, a clever Italian chef, who sent forth the daintiest of entrees and savouries, and the most delectable of ice-puddings.
"All must be of the most elegant and select," said Mr. Rayner, looking up from his lists before him. "I want old Worsley to see what a first-rate dinner 'La'yer Rayner' can give. I've ordered cases of the best hock and champagne to please his fastidious palate. I hear his boy is an excellent caterer, and no doubt Worsley is abonne fourchette."
But disappointment came in the shape of a note from Mark Cheveril to Hester, to tell her that he and his chief were engaged for Christmas Eve. She read Mark's letter aloud in faltering tones, knowing the chagrin it would bring to her husband, who said bitterly:
"A very lukewarm friend, Hester! He might easily have arranged to come to us if he had cared to. Yet what friendship he professed for you and the whole Bellairs family! But you see it is just in such selfish moves that his half-caste blood comes out!"
Hester did not like her husband throwing the blame on Mark, yet she could not help feeling that her old friend might have remembered how much it would mean to her to see a home face among the new acquaintances who were to gather round their board. Mr. Rayner seemed anxious to ignore the disappointment.
"I can easily provide substitutes," he remarked airily, "who will be proud to sit at my table." But Hester felt that this artificial occasion would only remind her sorrowfully of the happy gatherings of Pinkthorpe days; the excitement of decorating the village church, the frosty sunsets, the joys of holly and misletoe, and the festive air which seemed to pervade everything.
Christmas Eve came round. She had already dressed for dinner, wearing, at her husband's request, her wedding dress, with beautiful, white camellias at her waist and on her fair wavy hair.
"Oh, ma'm, how booful you looking," said her ayah, with many ejaculations of admiration; and she called Rosie to have a peep at the beautiful Dosani.
Hester had just fastened her gold cross with its tiny chain on her neck when her husband entered the room.
"How fortunate I've remembered, Hester! I've just excavated your diamonds from my safe. I believe you wanted to give them a premature burial there! Not so shall you treat my loving gifts, my love! Off with that trumpery cross and let me see my gems sparkling on your beautiful neck!"
Hester tried hard to conceal the disappointment she felt at having to wear the ostentatious jewel, but she saw it was inevitable, though the ayah, on the pretext of arranging the folds of her dress, whispered to her: "Missus wear cross—that plentee luckee jewel!"
The change, however, was effected, though Hester averted her eyes from the mirror that she might not behold herself in the resplendent gem, though she felt somewhat rewarded for her self-sacrifice by her husband's gratification.
The long elaborate dinner seemed to drag endlessly, and it was apparent to Hester that one or two of the guests looked bored. After the ladies returned to the drawing-room, the "rankest" lady, whom the host had taken into dinner, said to her with a pronounced yawn:
"I didn't like to ask your husband—but my dear Mrs. Rayner, what became of the Collector of Puranapore? I understood he was to be your guest this evening?"
"Oh, that was only a peradventure, Mrs. Grace. Mr. Worsley only arrived in Madras to-day, and was engaged for this evening."
"Then he declined your invitation?" asked Mrs. Grace sharply. "And his Assistant, did he also decline? I thought we were to have the pleasure of meeting both. In fact, Mr. Rayner told my husband so some time ago." She was about to add: "And but for that expectation we would have also declined the invitation." But even the Mrs. Graces of Anglo-Indian society have bounds which they cannot pass.
Observing the flush that rose to her hostess's face, she changed the topic, though on her drive home she did not fail to remark to her husband:
"That favourite of yours has shifty eyes, my dear. I don't like the man, and he lured us to that dull party on false pretences. I discovered that neither Mr. Worsley nor his Sub. had accepted the invitation to the party—found it out from Mrs. Rayner. Sorry for her, poor thing! She seems a lady, didn't even try to explain away her husband's snaring of us, though I saw she felt it. And what an extravagant dinner! Why, those flowers must have cost a fortune! And the things all came from D'Angelis, I recognised his dishes."
"First-rate wine," remarked Mr. Grace in a plethoric voice. "Wish I could afford such good stuff! Rayner must be a rich man. That feast anyhow must have cost a mint of money!"
"And did you see his wife's diamonds too? A new acquisition evidently—never saw them before. A little gold cross was all the girl ever wore. I expect he was bullied into that expensive gift, or perhaps she got it from some admirer."
"What cats you women are! Don't believe that girl could bully anybody though she tried. To my mind she's the most ladylike girl about just now. I felt sorry for her to-night. Her face had a sad look when she wasn't trying to talk to that dull fellow who took her in. I don't know where Rayner picked him up. I suppose he was asked to fill the Collector's place."
The conjugal remarks as the relays of carriages swept out of the Rayner's compound bore a strong resemblance to each other. The host and hostess were also keenly aware that the elaborate dinner-party had been less successful than any of its predecessors, though that knowledge affected them differently.
"I close my cheque book to dinners of that sort in future," said Mr. Rayner with a snarl, as he flung himself on a lounging chair in the verandah and betook himself to a cheroot. "Ungrateful pack, one and all! They only came to eat D'Angelis' excellentpâté de foie grasand toss down my magnums of the best champagne. Shan't get the chance again!"
Hester expressed herself by no means sorry to hear her husband register this vow, and added musingly:
"Small dinner parties can be delightful. You remember when we dined at Mrs. Fellowes' there were only eight of us in all. And how bright the talk was, and how prettily Mrs. Fellowes had decorated the table with those simple tendrils from her own hedge, and how beautifully those silver tankards shone—the Colonel's sporting trophies, his own and his father's, who had been in the same regiment. He told me so many interesting things about the Native Infantry that evening. And then those pretty old English ballads Mrs. Fellowes sang were delightful."
"Well, Hester, I'm sure you might have given us a song to-night! It would have made a variety. Why didn't you?"
"Because you said last time we had a dinner-party that nobody was to be asked to sing—that music seemed a disturbing element to the lords of creation over their wine—so I forbore. Or, rather, I should say, it was never suggested. I shouldn't think Mrs. Grace cared for music. But I'll give you a Christmas carol now before we go to bed if you like. It will chase away the gaudy note of our last big dinner-party. Oh, I'm so glad, Alfred, you've made up your mind not to have any more of those 'meetings of debtors and creditors,' as someone calls them," said Hester more cheerfully, as she went to the piano and pondered which of the old carols she would choose for this Christmas Eve, deciding that nothing could be more welcome than the hymn which calls us to "lay aside our crushing load and hear the angels sing."
Hester lingered for some time at the piano singing old favourites. When she rose from it, the little cloud which had been resting on her seemed overlaid by the spirit of peace. She felt vexed as she drew near her husband's chair that there was no response to the gladsome words. He sat staring gloomily into the darkness, and she did not venture to disturb him.
Next morning Hester was astir even earlier than usual. She had prepared little Christmas presents for each of the numerous servants, and enjoyed their evident gratified reception of them. Her ayah and Rosie were soon resplendent in her gift of new sarees. Even themaliswere not forgotten, and deposited their big red watering-chattees in front of the house while they made salaams to the Dosani in return for their new turbans.
Mr. Rayner had been employing his early Christmas morning by making a big bonfire of old papers outside the verandah of his writing-room, coaxing the flames in the still air with a palm leaf. While so engaged a telegram was handed to him.
"Horrid news from Palaveram, Hester," he called to his wife. "Young Hyde shot himself last night after mess—just as I was trying to extricate him from his troubles. They've asked me to go out to arrange matters. Great nuisance! I meant to spend the day peacefully lounging about the verandah and smoking cheroots."
"Young Hyde dead by his own hand! Oh, poor boy, how dreadfully sad!" exclaimed Hester in horror, mourning another "rashly importunate gone to his death" in that long sad procession of broken lives.
Mr. Rayner left after breakfast, and Hester felt glad she could respond to the chimes of the Cathedral, which were ringing for worship on this Christmas morning. They seemed to have a special note for her saddened heart, telling of the wideness of God's mercy—like that fair, illimitable ocean in its shining peace which swept round these shores, and of which she could catch glimpses as she took her solitary drive to church to find strength and hope in the all-embracing symbols of Infinite Love.
She returned home soothed and helped by the familiar service which seemed to forge a link between the little village church at home and the noble Cathedral beneath the waving Indian palms.