A ROSE--CARRIAGE PAID.
“Sahib, there is some one coming--in a jampan,” was the bearer’s
surprising announcement to Jervis, who was sitting under a tree in the
garden, busily engaged in painting a portrait of the bearer’s grandson.
Now, a jampan, or dandy, is a sort of hill sedan-chair, and a mode of
conveyance exclusively reserved for ladies.
Who could the lady be who was coming to the Pela Kothi? thought the
young man, starting to his feet. Honor? Impossible! Mrs. Brande?
No--the big picnic had dispersed ten days ago. He hurried out into
the verandah, and shaded his eyes with his hand. Yes, sure enough, a
dandy, borne by four men, and containing some one holding an enormous
white umbrella--some one being carried backwards up the hill, followed
by a native on a pony and two coolies with luggage. The _cortége_
were distinctly making for the house, for they turned off the road
into the direct path; but all that was visible was the white umbrella
bobbing along among the tall jungle grass--and the white umbrella was
approaching, as sure as fate.
* * * * *
For the last week Mark had noticed a great change in his father. As
his mind strengthened, his bodily health appeared to fail--the hundred
turns on the terrace were gradually lessening each morning as the steps
that paced them became feebler and feebler, and the daily routine was
now entirely set aside. An early ride had been Mark’s chief relaxation,
then breakfast with his father, afterwards he read the paper to him,
talked to him, walked with him, until about three o’clock, when Major
Jervis went to sleep--and slept almost uninterruptedly till dinner
time. Meanwhile his son walked over to see one of the neighbours, or
sketched--he had made quite a gallery of types and portraits--or took
his gun to try his luck among the hills.
The major was always at his best in the evening. He enjoyed a game of
chess, picquet, or _écarté_; and he liked to talk of his experiences,
his old friends and comrades, to smoke, to tell the same long stories
over and over again, and it was often one or two o’clock in the morning
ere his son could prevail on him to extinguish his hookah and go to
bed. But for the last week or ten days there had been no late hours,
and no strolling round the garden, or basking in the sun, and Mark had
never left the place. He feared that his father was about to have some
kind of an attack--whether bodily or mental, he was too inexperienced
to say--and he had despatched a note that very morning to Mr. Burgess,
asking him to ride over and see his patient.
Meanwhile the visitor was coming steadily nearer and nearer, the
umbrella effectually concealing his or her identity. In due time
the dandy was carried up backwards into the verandah, turned
right-about-face, and set down. And behold--under the umbrella sat--Mr.
Pollitt!
Mr. Pollitt, looking exceedingly pleased with himself, and wearing a
neat tweed Norfolk jacket, a courier bag, and an Elwood helmet. In one
hand he clutched the umbrella, in the other an Indian Bradshaw.
“Uncle Dan!” almost shouted his nephew.
“There, my boy! Now, now, don’t drag me--don’t drag me. Let me get out;
give me time. I,” as he stood beside his nephew, “thought I would take
you by surprise.” And he shook his hand vigorously.
“A surprise--I should just think so! How on earth did you ever find
your way here? Why did you not write?”
“I’ll tell you everything presently--meanwhile, get me something to
drink. I don’t want lunch--get me a drink; and then walk me about like
a horse, for my legs are so stiff with sitting in that infernal chair,
that I believe I have lost the use of them.”
As Mr. Pollitt drank off a whisky and soda, his little eyes wandered
round the big dining-room with its faded magnificence, then strayed to
the matchless prospect from the open window, and finally rested on his
companion.
“Hullo, Mark, my boy! I see that this country has not agreed with you.”
“Well, apparently it suits you, Uncle Dan,” was the smiling reply. “You
are looking very fit at any rate.”
“And how is your father?”
“Rather shaky, I am afraid; he has been ailing for the last week. He is
asleep just now.”
“Ah, very well, then you can explain _me_ to him when he awakes; and,
meanwhile, I have a good many things to explain to _you_--why I am
here, for instance. So, take me outside, where I can stretch my legs.
There seems to be a great garden hereabouts.
“And now, to begin my story at the beginning,” continued Mr. Pollitt,
as they paced along side by side, “I got your letter, of course--and
of course it upset me terribly. I was like a lunatic, and it did not
smooth me down when some one kept saying, ‘I told you so; still waters
run deep!’ and so on. At first I was resolved to cut you adrift, and
to take no further notice of you. I was in this mind for a whole
fortnight, and then I got another communication that drove me stark
mad. I heard through my bankers that you had drawn on me for five
thousand pounds. Now you know, Mark,” coming to a full stop and holding
up a finger, “I have never grudged you money, have I? but to take it
like this. Don’t interrupt me. I had given Bostock and Bell a quiet
notification that I would honour your cheques to an additional small
extent, in case, I thought to myself, the boy runs short of a couple of
hundred or so--but five thousand! Yes, yes; I know you never had it!
Don’t _interrupt_, I tell you; let me go straight on. I wrote out to
Bombay at once, asking for particulars, and the answer came back, ‘That
Mr. Jervis had drawn the money personally, in notes and gold, and had
sailed for Australia--with a _lady_.’”
“Sailed for Australia with a _lady_!” repeated Mark, now halting in his
turn on the gravel walk.
“Yes. At first I thought that I saw the whole thing as clear as print.
Your letter was a ruse to gain time. You knew I was dead against your
engagement to Miss Gordon, that I wanted you to come home, so you had
just taken the matter into your own hands, helped yourself to what
would start you fairly well, married the girl, and emigrated to the
colonies. I kept this idea to myself, I am now most thankful to say,
and I worried and worried over the business night and day. The whole
affair was unlike you; but it was not very unlike Clarence. And where
was Clarence? I thought of writing and making more inquiries--indeed,
the sheet of paper was actually before me--when I suddenly said, ‘Why
should not I go out myself, instead of twopence-half-penny worth of
paper?’ Mrs. Pollitt was away at Homburg, I was alone, and, to tell you
the truth, had no heart for shooting or anything. To put the matter
in a nutshell, instead of writing, I went straight off to the P. and
O. office and booked my passage to Bombay by the following mail. I
thought I would just go out quietly and see for myself how the land
lay. I came out the end of August. Phew! I feel hot now, when I think
of those days in the Red Sea--a blazing sun, an iron steamer. I was
like a lobster in a fish-kettle! Needless to say, there were no lords
or dukes on board; but I travelled with what suited me _better_--an
uncommonly clever lawyer chap, who lives in Bombay, and put me up to
everything. We became great cronies, and as we smoked together a good
bit, I told him the whole of my affairs, and placed myself unreservedly
in his hands; and for once in my life I did a wise thing. He wanted
me to stay with him, but I put up at an hotel. However, he rigged me
out, engaged a first class Goanese servant for me, who speaks English,
and takes me entirely in charge, just as if I was a baby, and he set
about ferreting out the cheque business. I saw the cheque--it was your
signature sure enough; but the writing of ‘five thousand pounds’ was
another hand--Clarence’s. I discovered that he had passed off as you.
His photograph was identified at the bank. I could not hear anything
about the lady; but she was entered in the passenger list for Melbourne
as ‘Mrs. Jervis.’ So exit Waring--and a nice child’s guide _he_ has
proved!”
“That is not all,” burst out Mark. “He owes money all over the place! I
gave him the command of all our funds, and he squandered every penny.”
“Serve you jolly well right,” returned his uncle with emphasis.
“Yes; it certainly did. I also gave him a cheque for five hundred to
pay off everything the day I left Shirani. I was so bothered, that I
conclude that I never filled in the cheque properly.”
“Evidently not, and your little oversight cost me four thousand five
hundred pounds. Well, never mind that now. I heard pretty stories of
Clarence at the hotel--people talking at the table beside me; how he
had gambled, betted, and played the deuce, and made a regular cat’s-paw
of the young fool he was travelling with, meaning _you_--an undeniable
fact. I then, having finished off Waring, came straight away to look
you up, Master Mark. Pedro, that’s my fellow, took great care of me,
and I have had as many adventures as would fill a volume of _Punch_.
I travelled in comfort as long as I was on the rail, bar the heat;
but once the rail came to an end, and I had to take to a box--I am
too old to begin riding--I was uncommonly sorry for myself. However,
everything I saw was new and interesting, the scenery splendid; I came
_viâ_ Shirani, of course, and I broke my journey at the Brandes--Sir
Pelham and Lady Brande. By the way, you never told me that he had a
handle to his name! Eh, how was that?”
“And how came you to know the Brandes?” asked his nephew gravely.
“Ah, that is another story! And how came _you_ to tell Sir Pelham that
there was insanity in the Jervis family, eh?”
“Because it is true. And I only heard it since I came here. My
grandfather died in Richmond lunatic asylum, my uncle jumped overboard
at sea, my father has now, thank God, a lucid interval, but he has been
insane for years.”
“Lies, every one of them!” blazed out Mr. Pollitt.
“Uncle Dan, what do you mean?” demanded Jervis, with trembling lips and
a pair of sternly searching eyes.
“I know the Jervis family; why, man, I made it my business to study it
up. Your grandfather, a splendid old soldier, died at Richmond in his
own house, as sane as I am--saner, indeed, for I’ve been near losing
my senses several times of late. Your uncle, noble fellow, jumped
overboard to save life and lost his own. Your father’s head was cracked
by a fall. Who told you this other balderdash?”
“Fernandez, my father’s heir. He was informed by Mrs. Jervis, my late
step-mother. And it is all true what you tell me?”
“As true as I am a living man and sinner. Your father, no doubt,
believed every one of his people to be lunatics, a phase of his own
delusions.”
“Uncle Dan,” broke in his nephew, “I don’t think you can ever realize
what you have done for me. You have restored me--to life--to hope. That
was the reason why I gave up Miss Gordon.”
“And she is staunch to you still,” nodding his head emphatically.
“How on earth do you know?”
“Oh, I know a good deal, considering that I have only been a fortnight
in the country! Mark, my dear boy, I see that all this sudden news is
too much for you.”
“Go on--go on,” cried the other, white with excitement; “such news is
never too much for any one.”
“Well, you know, I came up by that maddening, twisting cart road--I
began to think it had no ending, like eternity. You recollect the
fountains, every few miles? At one of them, my fellows stopped to
drink and smoke, and there was a lady watering her horse--a remarkably
handsome girl, riding a fine black Arab. She had a white puppy on her
knee. She looked so pleasant, that though, as you know, I’m a shy man,
I ventured to speak to her, and asked her if the road led to any place,
short of China? or if she had ever _heard_ of Shirani? Yes, she lived
there; and it was just four miles further. We fell into talk, we were
going the same way--her horse would not stand the puppy at any price,
but reared, and flung about like a mad thing. She sat him splendidly,
I will say, and held on to the dog like grim death; she said he was
tired--and the long and the short of it was, that _I_ took the pup in
the dandy, and of all the nasty fidgeting little brutes!--but that girl
has such beautiful eyes--I could do anything for her. And I’d like
to see the man that could resist her! I told her my name, and said I
had come out after my nephew, and asked her if she had ever heard of
him--his name was Jervis. She immediately became bright scarlet, I do
assure you, and said ‘Yes.’ I ventured to inquire her name. She said it
was Gordon; and when I replied, ‘I have heard of _you_,’ she grew, if
possible, still redder. We became as thick as thieves in no time. I got
out and walked beside her, actually carrying the pup--for he would not
sit in the dandy alone--and she told me a lot about the hill folk, and
the mountain peaks, and taught me a few words of Hindostani. I inquired
about an hotel, and she declared that there was none, and I must come
to her uncle’s; he and her aunt would be very glad to see me, for Mr.
Jervis was a particular friend of theirs. And is he not a particular
friend of _yours_ too? I asked as pointedly as I knew how. And she
looked me straight in the face, and said ‘_Yes_.’ I stayed with the
Brandes, to make a long story short, and I was delighted with my visit.
I now know what people mean when they talk of Indian hospitality and
Indian friends. I believe I am getting quite attached to the country!”
“Then you had better remain out here, Uncle Dan, and live with me.”
“A case of Mahomet and the mountain, eh? No, no, my boy; I mean to
fetch you home. I cannot spare you. At my age it is impossible to throw
out new roots.”
“And about Miss Gordon?” urged his listener impatiently.
“Honor, you mean. She was charming. She may have wished to turn my
poor silly old head, and she succeeded. She played the violin--_that_
settled me. Yesterday morning, before I left, she and I were walking
in the garden quite early, and she picked me a button-hole; and I
said, ‘I’m off now to see my boy. Will you give me a flower for him,
and have you any message?’ She made no answer for a full minute; so,
to put her at ease, I said, ‘I know all about it, my dear. I was angry
to think that he could leave me; but what was that to leaving _you_!’
‘He did what was right,’ she said, firing up like a sky-rocket. When
we had made peace again, she chose a flower with most particular care,
and said with a face as red as the rose, ‘You may give him that, with
my love.’ ‘Certainly,’ I said; ‘but the carriage must be prepaid.’ At
first she did not understand.”
“And I must confess that I am equally at sea,” admitted his companion.
“Why, you young donkey, of course I made her give me a kiss.”
“Which is more than she has ever given me. Uncle Dan, you are an
extraordinarily able man. No wonder you made a great fortune! You have
brought me nothing but good news--my head feels reeling--I can hardly
grasp it all at once.”
“Well, my dear boy, I am glad of it. For it seems to me that you and
good news have been strangers for many a long day! And now, suppose we
go in, and find out if your father is awake?”