"How have you been getting on lately?" asked Eola as she sank into a
cane lounge in the verandah.
Alderbury stopped in his perambulation, gathered up a number of letters
lying on the table where the tea was usually spread and made them into
a neat packet. None of them required an immediate answer; they could
all wait until he reached home. He intended to make the most of his
one day's holiday. He had the whole morning before him; Wenaston was
engaged till lunch, and Eola presumably had nothing to do but entertain
her guest. It was a pleasant prospect, and he was conscious of a sense
of luxury that did not often enter his life. He revelled in the
unwonted leisure of the hour and took his time to reply. He seated
himself in a chair by her side, and half turned so that he might have a
full view of her face against the green creeper-covered trellis that
shut in the end of the verandah.
"I have a fair share of trouble balanced by some satisfaction."
"Converts been doing anything very naughty lately?"
He laughed in kindly fashion. In his large sympathetic soul he held
his people dear, from the blackest little ball of a baby brought to him
for baptism to the white-haired old woman; who persisted in calling him
father though she was twice his age.
"It is rather like having a very large nursery or school of children,"
he said. "Some of them are so good and others----"
"Are up to tricks," Eola concluded for him.
"Only between us confidentially."
They both laughed in a way that showed a mutual understanding and not a
little sympathy on the part of the woman, not so much for his work as
for himself personally.
"Do tell me their latest," she said softly.
"It is not for publication. On your honour you won't give me and my
people away to a missionary magazine?"
"I promise."
"Let me whisper my troubles in your ear, then. I have had a bother
over a bell tower. Four months ago I sent five hundred rupees that I
had collected for the purpose to the native pastor in charge of the
little church at Ramapet; and I solemnly enjoined on him by letter the
necessity of beginning the building of the tower at once. I have been
to see it."
"You have found that they have put up a glorified steeple, I suppose,
costing twice as much as the sum you sent."
"Wrong, dear lady, entirely wrong! The bell tower surrounds the
property on which the church stands in the form of a wall; and in the
corner of the compound is a new well."
"What has become of the bell?"
"It is there safe enough; oh, yes, and it rings all right. The church
council composed of the most important of the native parishioners met
me and pointed out how wise they had been, as wise as serpents to use
their own expression. The church compound is already under cultivation
and the water will not only produce a crop, I should say rather, two
crops in the year, but will also be a source of income as it is
purchased by the villagers at so much a bucket. They are all delighted
with themselves for their cleverness. The bell-tower, they say, will
come all in good time. Meanwhile they have erected a little shelter of
mats and bamboos in a peepul tree and have hung the bell there."
"What did you say?"
"I had to disapprove and point out that it was a breach of faith and a
misappropriation of funds."
"Was the wall needed?"
"Badly! Nothing could be done with the land to make it productive
until we had an effective barrier to keep out the buffaloes and goats."
"Then really it is a most excellent move."
"Not at all! Don't you see that there are principles involved?"
"They should have asked your consent, you mean, to the temporary
deflection of the money?"
"I should never have given it! They knew it and took good care not to
let me into the secret. What am I to do, pray? Where is my bell-tower
to come from? It will take two or three years before they can refund
the money. Some of it was given by an enthusiastic lover of bells, who
was charmed with the idea of assisting to build the tower. Bells, he
declared, were missionaries themselves and exercised a Christianising
influence. What am I to say to him? He won't see any Christianising
influence in the well and the wall."
He sat up in his long armed chair and gazed at Eola with comic concern.
It made her laugh.
"My sympathies are all with the builders of the wall. I know how I
felt towards the buffaloes and goats before the wall round this
compound was completed. After all the bell does very well for the
present in the peepul tree."
"Your morals are hopelessly inferior--I won't say bad--and you would
make a very weak mission agent," he said, shaking his head over her
shortcomings.
"Should I? Then I mustn't marry a missionary. Think how awful it
would be if while he was away preaching to the heathen, I remained at
home encouraging his converts to misappropriate the mission funds."
"He would have to take you with him; it wouldn't be safe to leave you
behind."
They both laughed; then he became serious again.
"But I say, really, joking apart; you know they have put me into no end
of a difficulty by their cleverness, and I am at my wits' end to think
how I am to rectify it."
"I know!" cried Eola, with a sudden inspiration. "Haven't you any
other funds in hand from which you could borrow and get the tower built
at once?"
He jumped to his feet as was his way when excited and strode up and
down the verandah.
"You are every bit as bad as my people! That's the very thing they
have done and which I am deprecating; and you suggest that I should
follow their example. I can see that I have a duty to perform. I must
take you in hand and convert you."
He stopped in front of her and let his eyes rest upon her abundant hair.
"Try," she said, looking up at him with shining eyes in which amusement
mingled with something else. "Do try; I should like to see what your
method would be."
"Would you?" he replied. "You might not like it."
"Is it the same as you apply to the heathen?"
"Not exactly."
Her eyes lowered before his, and she was seized with a sudden anxiety
to direct the conversation into a fresh channel.
"Sit down, Mr. Alderbury, and tell me more about your converts," she
said hastily.
"Very well, I will defer the conversion till a more suitable time and
talk--of marriage."
Again she was startled. She glanced at him as he dropped into the seat
he had vacated so abruptly. His self-possession was in no way
disturbed.
"Marriage!" she repeated as the colour mounted.
He revelled in her sweet confusion; but had mercy.
"Yes; the marriage of one of my converts. A young man in the
agricultural settlement wants to marry the daughter of a distant
relative. The girl is still a heathen. Of course I had to say no, and
counsel patience. We don't allow mixed marriages. I left him rather
sad, as he knows the girl and is attached to her. Being pariahs they
have been allowed to see something of each other."
"Oh, poor fellow! Is she fond of him?"
"Yes; I think so; as far as a modest Hindu maid may permit herself to
be."
"Then they ought to be married; and I think it is very horrid of you to
forbid the wedding."
"The girl must become a Christian first; then the wedding bells shall
be rung and the feast prepared; but not till then."
"But supposing she won't become a Christian, what then?"
"The marriage can't take place."
"Poor lovers! What a shame! You are hard on them! Why shouldn't the
girl marry first and be converted afterwards?"
"That would never do. I always begin with conversion;" he looked at
her and paused with half a smile; then he added: "Marriage must follow
conversion."
"Oh, must it!" she replied with a challenge in her voice. "You take a
good deal for granted."
"A common fault with men of my profession, I fear," he replied with a
decision that had its attraction.
"Are you never disappointed?"
There was a slight pause. His reply was spoken in a different tone.
"In the matter of bell towers, yes."
Alderbury sat down again, and Eola with half averted face looked out
into the sunlit compound where the brilliant colours of the geraniums
and bignonia creeper contrasted strongly with the pure snow white of
the eucharis lilies; where butterflies that rivalled the flowers in
tint fluttered like wind-driven petals across her vision, and the sweet
scent of the _La France_ roses came in on the warm morning air.
"Now tell me about Ananda," said Alderbury recalling her thoughts.
"I know very little about him. My information has come from Mrs.
Hulver who picks up gossip in the bazaar. You had better hear the
story from her first hand. I will send for her."
A message was taken by the butler who met the housekeeper as she
returned from her walk in the compound. She went into her room to
remove the mushroom hat and dispose of her umbrella; and she took the
opportunity of telling young William that she had made arrangements for
him to leave at daybreak the following morning. She entered the front
verandah, keen inquiry in her eye as to the reason of her call.
"Were you wishing to have a few words with my son, sir? If so, I
should be pleased if you could come in half an hour. He is just going
to have his bath. A dressing-down from your point of view will be very
good for him. As William--that was my third--used to say: 'Don't
confine yourself to big guns in dealing with an enemy. Bullets speak
quite as plainly as cannon balls though they are neither so big nor so
noisy.'"
"I don't think your son wants any lecturing from me. No doubt he is
fully repentant after all that has happened. Dr. Wenaston told me the
story of his fight, and I am sure young William will keep away from the
canteen in future," said Alderbury kindly.
"He will try, sir; I know that; but canteens draw very strongly at
times. There's the smell to contend with as well as the open door. As
William--that was my third--used to say: 'An open door will tempt a
saint.'"
"I want you to tell me all you know and have heard about Ananda. Sit
down, Mrs. Hulver," he said, giving her a chair. "I don't see why you
should stand. Let us have a comfortable chat whilst we are about it."
He noted the cloud of anxiety that seemed to overshadow her usually
placid face and put it down to trouble over her son. Her words
confirmed his suspicion.
"To tell you the truth, sir, I have had no time to consider Mr. Ananda.
I have been so worried by young William's conduct."
"You mustn't think too much about it. You can't expect everybody to be
a saint."
"I don't, sir, and least of all young William from the way he has
begun----"
"What did you hear of Ananda in the bazaar?" asked Alderbury
interrupting her.
"As far as I can recollect the family ill-treated him, knocked him
about with a stick and he ran away. They didn't like his turning
Christian. As William--that was my third--used to say: 'What women
haven't got to answer for, you may safely put down to religion.'"
"It was supposed that he was in hiding somewhere on the college
premises. It seems the gardener heard of the arrival of your son and
thought it was Ananda."
"The gardener?" said Mrs. Hulver puckering her brow. "So we may thank
him for that budmash's visit. I shall have to remember that."
She thought of the roses and felt that the man had got even with her
after all; but she kept her thoughts to herself.
"In coming here he was taking a great liberty, I admit; but it was as
well that he should satisfy himself that Ananda was not on the
premises."
"I should never have allowed him to go through my rooms if the master
hadn't given him permission. As it was I had to submit; but I didn't
like it with young William lying there and the fever still on him. As
William--that was my first--used to say: 'Orders is orders when spoken
by a superior.'"
"Have you heard any spot mentioned as likely to be a hiding-place?"
"There have been all sort of rumours, sir. They said at first that he
had gone to you; but a messenger was sent to your house to inquire; and
as nothing had been seen of him there they changed their minds. I
don't wonder at his running away if they really did illtreat him. As
William--that was my second--used to say: 'Distance is the best remedy
against the spite of evil men.' You never saw such an evil-looking
beast as that uncle was who came poking his nose into everything here.
If young William had been himself and not so ashamed of his black eye
he would have upped and at him and soon had him out. I think the man
himself was afraid that something of the sort might happen. As
William--that was my first--used to say when his relations came to stay
without an invitation: 'Uninvited guests sit on thorns.'"
"When they discovered that Ananda was not at my house what was the next
suspicion of the family?"
"That he had drowned himself in the well."
"What gave rise to that notion?"
"They found his cap in the well."
"But not his body?"
"No, sir; all the same his people believe that he is drowned and they
have widowed his wife I am told. I can't answer for the truth of what
I hear in the bazaar. As William--that was my first--used to say: 'An
Indian bazaar is a nest in which many rotten eggs are laid.'"
"You were very kind to Mr. Ananda, Mrs. Hulver," remarked Eola.
"My kindness was of the fair weather sort. I gave him food and plenty
of good advice, before master put it in orders that no help of any sort
was to be found in this house. Mr. Ananda ate heartily and listened
politely; but he didn't take my advice soon enough. As William--that
was my second--used to say: 'The man who stops in the valley will never
get over the hill.' I keep telling young William these sort of things.
I hope some of them, specially about drink and fighting, will stay by
him. As William, his father used to say: 'The way to promotion doesn't
lie through the canteen door.'"
"If you should by chance find means of communicating with Ananda----"
"And him down the well, sir! Why, it's more than a week----"
"Do you believe that he drowned himself, Mrs. Hulver?" asked Alderbury,
his eyes fixed upon her round smooth face that held very little
expression but general good-nature towards the whole world.
"Well, sir! There's his widow! A widow is usually the sure sign of a
man's death; though I have heard of the widow's weeds being put on too
soon. That was the case of a woman in our regiment whose husband was
seconded for service in Africa. He was reported killed; and just as
she was getting over her trouble and was cheering up a bit, owing to
one of the unmarried sergeants paying her a little attention, he came
back. She had to go into colours again before the black was half wore
out, an expense all for nothing that she could ill afford, poor thing!
But as William--that was my second--used to say: 'There's no plumbing
the depths of a man's folly when he's a fool.' He should have written
and told her that he wasn't dead; but that meant sending her money.
Perhaps Mr. Ananda may come back one day like Sergeant Thompson."
"His uncle stopped me on my way here to ask if I knew anything of him.
I could give him no information, and I take it that you can't help any
more than I can."
"That's so right enough, and if you see the budmash again you may tell
him that his precious nephew's whereabouts has nothing to do with me."
"Possibly; but as Mr. Ananda belongs to our faith, I certainly think
that his welfare has a great deal to do with me," said Alderbury with a
touch of severity.
"Of course, sir; it's only right; it's your profession to look after
the converts. My business is housekeeping; and if the Christmas turkey
was missing from the larder I should be in even more of a taking than
you are over Mr. Ananda. As William--that was my first--used to say:
'Mind your own business and leave others to mind theirs.' You are
leaving us to-morrow, sir, I understand. I've seen your men; they want
to start off to-night with the cart if you have no objection. The
portmanteau you are using will go on the motor. This will give them
time to get to the mission-station before you arrive. I told your
servant that I thought he could be spared."
"By all means let them go if they wish. We shall all be glad to get
home as we have been on a longer round than usual this time."
"Yes, sir; as William--that was my third--used to say, when he got
safely back after leaning a little too far in the canteen direction:
'There's no place like home, even though it's only a pigsty, Maria, me
dear,' that was his way of speaking, he was such a gentleman in his
manners."
"My house is not a pigsty, Mrs. Hulver," protested Alderbury, while
Eola's eyes twinkled.
"I'm not saying that it is, though there's no woman in it. As
William--that was my third--used to say: 'A house without a woman is
only a house; it can never be called a home, however clever the man may
be.'"
"It is a fault that may be easily remedied," responded Alderbury.
Mrs. Hulver glanced at him suspiciously, and then let her eyes rest
upon Eola.
"If you were a bishop you might say so, sir; but you're not a bishop,
and begging your pardon for saying so, you're not likely to be if I may
judge by your legs. Gaiters would be impossible for you, even though
you let your apron down a good four inches. As William--that was my
second and as soldierly-looking man as ever stepped--used to say: 'It
isn't every figure that will fit every profession.' I may tell you,
sir, that by reason of my fullness of figure I was never chosen when I
was young for the leading fairy in the regimental pantomime at
Christmas. I was given to fullness early; but excepting in the matter
at the pantomime I never felt any inconvenience from being stout. My
husbands all admired stout women, and they said one after the other
that fat in a woman may make her short in the breath, but it keeps her
smiling. Now you're given the other way and you've got just the figure
for a missionary."
"And so missionary I am to remain, eh, Mrs. Hulver?"
"There's great virtue in knowing your place and your station, sir,"
responded Mrs. Hulver, feeling that she was having the opportunity of
her life to give the ineligible a bit of her mind. "One day you will
meet a lady, suitable for a missionary's wife; and though she may dress
plain, she will soon turn your house into a home with curtains and
carpets and decent house-linen. She must be a good housekeeper." Mrs.
Hulver again let her eyes rest on Eola as though she were taking the
measure of her shortcomings in that respect. "And she must be sharp as
a needle with the butler over the house accounts."
"If I am ever a bishop, Mrs. Hulver, I suppose I need not be so rigid
over the housekeeping qualities of my wife. A bishop usually has a
housekeeper."
"Lor, sir, how you talk! As if that would ever come to pass! But as
William--that was my third--used to say: 'Many people talk like
generals but have to live like privates.' There's no harm in your
talking of being a bishop as long as you're content to live like a
missionary. I must be going; I have a lot to do."
She bustled away, and with her went the smile that had rested on
Alderbury's face. Eola watching him noted the change.
"What is it?" she asked. "You are troubled. Are you thinking of
Ananda?"
"Yes; and I am blaming myself," he replied quickly. "There is so much
I might have done to prevent this catastrophe if I had come when your
brother called me. Instead of coming I wrote. It was not enough."
"I don't believe in a catastrophe. I don't believe that he is dead; I
am sure Mrs. Hulver doesn't believe it or she would not be so
indifferent. What do you fear?"
"That they have killed him between them."
"They would not dare! That would be murder and they would fear the
penalty."
"Unfortunately there is no penalty in the case of an outcaste, a
convert to Christianity. There might be some sort of a trial, but no
judge in the State of Chirapore would do more than impose a slight
punishment."
"Come into the fernery and look at my palms and lilies," she said,
rising to get her hat.
She succeeded in dispersing the anxiety that had settled down upon him
as he considered Ananda's case; and once more the convert was
forgotten. Her hands were buried in the fronds of a maidenhair when he
said suddenly:
"Don't do that; it isn't safe; there might be a snake hidden in the
fern."
She laughed, but did not move her hands. Then he took them in his and
drew her away from the pot where he feared danger might lurk.
"Eola, will you come and make my house a home for me? I want you; I
can't live without you," he concluded with a strong man's passion.
She looked up at him suddenly serious.
"Think how far I fall short of the ideal! I---- Oh, really you are
the most masterful man I ever met. Mr. Alderbury----!" And then her
head dropped and she surrendered.
"Are you converted to my way of thinking," he said at last. "Or, shall
I continue my arguments?"
"I am quite converted; quite!" she replied, and her eyes shone.
"Then I may tell you a secret. Whatever my figure may be in Mrs.
Hulver's opinion, the gaiters and apron are looming in the distance. I
heard from England by the last mail that I have been nominated for a
colonial bishopric;" and he named the diocese.
"What fun it will be to see the dear old woman's face when she hears of
it!"
He drew her down to a seat among the ferns.
"Never mind the old woman. I want the whole of your attention. There
is so much to talk about and we have only till to-morrow," he said,
already grudging the moments.
"Anyway my conversion is complete."
"Oh, is it? I am not so sure of that. At any rate I will see that
nothing is left undone to make it so!"