"I think you are most inconsiderate, Hester, to take Cheveril to that
squalid suburb when he might be playing tennis with the fair Clarice at
the Adyar," Mr. Rayner was saying, as his wife and their guest stood in
the verandah preparing for an early morning drive.
"Except for three reasons you might call me 'inconsiderate,' Alfred,"
replied Hester, smiling. "First, Mark promised he would go and see Mrs.
Fellowes this morning; second, he does not like tennis; and third,
Royapooram isn't a squalid suburb, but one of the most picturesque
military cantonments."
"Yes, it certainly looked very picturesque when it was pointed out to me
from the deck of the _Bokhara_, with those wonderful palms dipping down
it seemed into the sea. I want to make its nearer acquaintance, and I
must add Mrs. Fellowes' also," said Mark, as the landau appeared, and
Hester, in pretty morning apparel, took her seat in it, followed by her
guest.
Her husband watched them as they drove away, then slowly returned to his
darkened writing room.
"Wish they hadn't been bound for Mrs. Fellowes'," he muttered. "She
affects Eurasians, I know, and Cheveril may meet some of those
detestable creatures I particularly wish him to avoid. Pity I didn't
give Hester a hint in time!"
Meanwhile, the landau was carrying the pair along the leafy roads
towards the sea, and soon it was threading its way by the crowded First
Line Beach full of bustling commercial activity. Great droves of
muscular coolies were pushing loads which good British dray horses would
not lightly have tackled; but the strong shiny brown limbs, made supple
by frequent oilings, seemed to have no difficulty in dragging their
burdens, which they did with unconscious grace, and even with
cheerfulness, judging from the resonant chorus of shouts. One side of
the sea front was given up to shipping in all its varieties, while the
other was lined by many-hued buildings, some so evidently of the
Georgian period that one did not need to glance at the date above their
Greek-pillared porticos. They were intersected by higher parti-coloured
buildings of chunam, and except for one or two hotels, all given up to
business purposes of varying degrees of importance. Against the
substantial blocks were huddled some ramshackle erections which had
evidently seen better days, but which were now fast sinking into godowns
for storage, their peeling façades lending picturesqueness to the street
scene on which Mark was looking with keen interest.
Now the carriage was nearing the lines of the Native Infantry. Not far
from them stood various detached bungalows, surrounded by compounds,
where the officers sojourned, with a sprinkling of other residents who
liked this suburb so near the sea. Clusters of low, thatched, mud
villages, with enclosures of bamboo, where semi-nude children crawled
about like sandhoppers, nestled under the groups of tall feathery palms
which, Mark had noticed, seemed to dip into the sparkling waters of the
ocean.
Colonel Fellowes, commanding officer of the sepoy regiment, occupied one
of the pleasantest houses in Royapooram. It was a much less pretentious
abode than the Rayner's house in Clive's Road, for the suburb was old
and unfashionable, but its compound wore a snug social air which made it
look more like a home garden, Mark thought, as he followed Hester to the
house.
Mrs. Fellowes was specially delighted to see her young friend as a
proof that she had not suffered from her slip on the treacherous steps
of the tank. She welcomed Mark with cordiality, introducing him to her
husband, a tall spare man of bony frame with a simple earnest face,
bronzed by the suns of many hot weathers on Indian plains where he had
trained his sepoys and loved them like children.
"Yes, the Colonel and I like to think of our bungalow as a cottage with
roses looking in at the window," Mrs. Fellowes was saying, as Mark, with
the keen eye of the new-comer, commented on the home-like attributes of
the bungalow with its trellised verandah, where creepers twined their
graceful tendrils, and roses and wisteria climbed up its amber-coloured
walls and pillars. "But I hope we shan't make the mistake of some
Anglo-Indians and try to reproduce it at home."
"I believe you are right, Mrs. Fellowes," returned Mark. "My father's
people happen to live in Shropshire, not far from Styche Hall, Clive's
birthplace, and I always regretted he should have replaced the old
black-timbered house by a mansion with verandahs."
"Yes," said Colonel Fellowes, who had joined them, "I once made a
pilgrimage to see that house--Clive being one of my heroes. We should
have worshipped that simple black-timbered house if it had still been
extant. All the same, the present one isn't the gorgeous palace Macaulay
would have us believe. Poor Clive, he was much maligned, as many of the
makers of India have been! What would the Carnatic, for instance, be
now, but for Clive? A tiger jungle--only the tigers two-footed instead
of four, and tearing each other to bits!"
"The result has been good, certainly," replied Mark, "but are you sure
it was not the hungry mouth of the rapacious West, craving for pepper
and cardamoms, and hankering after the fabled gold and gems of
Hindustan, that brought the white men? Remember he came as a suppliant
trader to these shores and first begged for crumbs!"
"Granted!" returned Colonel Fellowes. "Just as the Israelites came to
the land of Canaan--sent by the same Hand. Depend upon it the hosts of
our forefathers were the hosts of God, as Kingsley says. But talking of
reproducing chunam palaces at home, I was amused to hear Rayner saying
the other day at the Club that he had got a plan of his house in Clive's
Road, and meant to reproduce it in Belgravia! 'First catch the standing
room,' said I. He's an ambitious young fellow that, and a pushing one! I
wish his ambition would take the form of giving his wife a good mount. I
told him of a perfect one to be had at Waller's stables, but he wouldn't
hear of it."
"But Mrs. Rayner used to be a keen horsewoman," said Mark, recalling
vividly some pleasant rides in Worcestershire lanes.
"Well, strange as it may seem, he has an unaccountable prejudice against
riding, though he is a good whip and has several pairs of fine Arabs
besides the two Walers. I begged him, if he wouldn't come himself, to
let Mrs. Rayner ride of a morning with my wife. She was most keen, but
he wouldn't hear of it. Selfish, I call it! She is so charming, quite
the nicest of our brides this season," added the colonel, his eyes
following Hester's slender figure as she strolled along the lawn walk
with his wife.
Mark fully endorsed his remark though he did so silently, inwardly
commenting on the personal note which all conversation seemed to take in
his new social surroundings. He had observed it on the previous evening
when more than one of those to whom he had been introduced made comments
more frank than friendly concerning his future chief and others which,
in home circles, would have been considered somewhat out of taste.
Perhaps it was a trait of this Anglo-Indian society, bred of the
narrowness of its range of topics. It was perforce illuminating to a
new-comer, though he felt that the suggestion of selfishness in Hester's
husband was painful when he recalled the parting words of her mother on
the Pinkthorpe Rectory. "We would fain that Hester had chosen one of
whom we knew more than Alfred Rayner. As her father says, he is still an
unknown quantity. In fact, the dear child's choice was too hurried. You
will do much to reassure us, Mark, if you can tell us that the man of
her choice is strong to lean on, tender and true!"
Even already from his few hours' acquaintance, Mark felt by no means
sure that he could banish Mrs. Bellairs' anxiety by the assurance for
which she longed. There seemed to him a curious hardness about Rayner,
combined with a lack of manliness, making visible shallow ambitions. He
wore them "on his sleeve" in fact, and Colonel Fellowes had not far to
probe in putting his finger on such weaknesses. But Mark hoped that
Hester had not discovered any such flaws, and he desired, brother-like,
to shield her from the knowledge of them. Rayner could hardly live
beside one so true and sweet as she was without being influenced for
good. Whenever he could get release from his duties at Puranapore he
would surely be able to trace her ennobling influence on her husband,
and till then he must forbear to sound any note of trouble to the
anxious mother far away.
"Ah, here comes someone we don't see every day," exclaimed Mrs.
Fellowes, going forward to greet a visitor who came slowly along the
shady walk. He was a man about Colonel Fellowes' age, tall but not so
erect and with less broad shoulders. His face was not so bronzed as the
soldier's, but his skin had a more withered look, and there was a
pathetic light about his deep, penetrating grey eyes. The curves of his
thin lips betokened a settled sadness, though his face lit up with a
rarely pleasant smile as he returned Mrs. Fellowes' greeting.
"Welcome, Mr. Morpeth, you are a sight for 'sair een,' as my old Scots
aunt used to put it."
Mark was more than astonished at the cordiality of Mrs. Fellowes'
greeting when he recognised in the visitor the man whom the restive
Australians of the mail-phaeton had almost trampled under foot, and whom
Alfred Rayner had characterised as a "greasy half-caste." On the first
opportunity he asked his hostess the name of the guest.
"David Morpeth," she replied, "a man whom we are proud to know, though
he is an East Indian," she added, lowering her voice. "You know--or
perhaps you don't know yet--what an inveterate prejudice there is
against these people. I always say that David Morpeth would redeem a
nation; he lives and toils for his despised people, pours out his money
and his life for them, often, I fear, with very poor return. He has even
enlisted me, and we have started one or two things together. I must add,
that though Mr. Morpeth is of that despised mixed blood, he is really
personally much respected here; but he declines social advances from any
quarter, so my husband and I feel honoured when he puts in one of his
rare appearances. Besides, I value the little change for the dear man
from the toils of those wretched people."
"I should like to be introduced to Mr. Morpeth, if you don't mind," said
Mark eagerly.
"By all means! How nice of you, Mr. Cheveril!"
Mrs. Fellowes, with a pleased air, led the way to the shade of a
tamarind tree where the helper of his people stood talking pleasantly to
a little fair-haired English boy, the son of Mrs. Fellowes' next door
neighbour.
David Morpeth's face wore a bright smile now, very different from his
sad stern mien of the previous evening. Mark felt ashamed when he
recalled the incident, but could not venture to apologise, though,
somehow, he knew that the older man recognised him as one of the
occupants of the mail-phaeton. An evident air of surprise seemed to
mingle with his recognition, though all awkwardness was at once
eliminated by Mark Cheveril's greeting.
"Mrs. Fellowes has just been telling me of your efforts for our poor
brothers, and I want to give you the hand of fellowship," he said with a
frank smile.
"I welcome it heartily, sir," returned David Morpeth with a half
startled air, though his whole face beamed. Then a puzzled look flitted
across it as he said slowly, fixing his deep eyes on the young man: "I
believe I speak to the new Assistant-Collector of Puranapore just
arrived from England? I must not take advantage of your inexperience,
Mr. Cheveril. I am an East Indian--a half-caste, and I naturally try to
help my own people!"
"And I also am an East Indian. My father's wife was a Hindu girl. I've
always been proud of the link with this great country--my mother's
land!"
David Morpeth's eyes spoke unutterable things as he gazed on the
handsome open face of the young man. He seemed spell-bound by his
declaration and kept silence for a moment. He walked a few paces away
with his hands folded behind him, and Mark heard him uttering low
tremulous words. Retracing his steps he came and stood in front of the
young civilian, laid his hand on his shoulder, and spoke in a slow
measured tone like one unaccustomed to lighter talk; his address, like
his searching eyes, had something that reminded one of the descriptions
of the ancient seer.
"Yours is a noble confession, young man! May you be able to live up to
it! But believe me, there will be many a sorrow, many a tear. I would
fain have further talk with you. I cannot tell you how I rejoice that my
steps led me here this morning to feel the grasp of your young hand, but
I must go now, this is not the place for further parleying," he added,
glancing beyond the tamarind tree with a sudden startled air.
Instinctively Mark glanced round, wondering what could be the cause of
his agitation. There seemed none. Only Hester was crossing the lawn,
probably to suggest that it was time to bring their visit to a close.
Surely the gracious presence of the young English lady could not call up
the sudden air of discomfort on the old man's face. Then he recalled
Alfred Rayner's insolent demeanour on the previous night, and his
refusal even to apologise to the man whom he called a "greasy
half-caste." Yes, that must be what made the sensitive man shrink into
his shell. He did not wish to encounter the wife of his insulter, Mark
decided, as he held out his hand, saying:
"We must meet again before I leave for Puranapore. I shall come and get
some of your wisdom while I can."
With a glad smile Mr. Morpeth raised his sun-topee and hurried down the
shady walk which made a short cut to the entrance gate.
"Oh, I'm so sorry that elusive Mr. Morpeth has eluded me again," said
Hester. "I watched Mrs. Fellowes introduce you to him and said to
myself, 'Now's my chance,' and when I perceived you and him in deep
conversation I didn't like to intrude, and now he's gone. I saw him here
once before and thought he had such a sad interesting face, I longed to
know him."
"Yes, he is interesting," returned Mark, "specially so to me. He is an
East Indian by birth. I only wish for this and other reasons I was not
to be banished from Madras. I'm sure this David Morpeth and I would
become fast friends, especially since there is the bond of race between
us."
Hester looked grave, and her lips parted as if she were about to speak.
Here surely was the opportunity for giving Mark some warning on this
point concerning which her husband had dwelt with such harsh words. The
ice had not been broken on the topic as yet, and she felt she must go
softly, all the more since Alfred was now seeming to belie his words and
proving an entirely gracious and helpful host; for she had not heard of
the episode of the homeward evening drive. It must surely have been only
a fit of passing petulance which had made Alfred speak so. It would be
worse than foolish in her to refer to the matter now, she decided, as,
after taking leave of Colonel and Mrs. Fellowes, they drove home to
baths and late breakfast.
* * * * *
"Here is a list I've been framing for you of important people you've got
to call on, Cheveril," said Mr. Rayner with a paterfamilias manner, as
he walked into the breakfast-room, evidently bent on initiating his
guest in all the intricacies of social procedure in Madras. "The
new-comer has to call first here, so you must positively leave cards at
all those houses, Government House included, since you are bent on
leaving us to-morrow."
"What a formidable array of names!" exclaimed Mark, raising his eyebrows
as he scanned the sheet. "Why, one would think you were going to put me
up for a constituency, Rayner, if there was such a thing in this part of
the world?"
"You may thank your stars, there is not, for then you might have to
canvass all the half-caste warrens, kiss babies as black as your boot,
_et cetera_. Thank goodness, Englishmen will never sink to that! No, the
constituency I desire you should cultivate is one of pure Englishmen.
I've only given you the names of socially desirable people. You must
plough through those calls, Cheveril, they are a sacred rite for the
new-comer. Great mistake not to leave your card on all big entertainers,
for instance! Puranapore is not so far off that you cannot respond to
every desirable invitation. The fair Miss Clarice will be sure to claim
you for her coming ball. In fact, I saw an invitation in her eyes,
mouth, and every feature of her face!" he added, with a laugh which
jarred upon Mark, who, though he was not what is called "a lady's man,"
and perhaps because he was not, possessed that innate chivalry for woman
which seemed to rise to the surface when the slightest note of
disrespect for them was sounded.
But truly, as Mark acknowledged to himself, Rayner was proving a most
painstaking host. He was actually pressing the use of one of his
carriages on his acceptance, and Hester assured him that the landau was
at his service, as she had duly responded to all social obligations,
having been, she laughingly assured him, kept up to the mark by her
husband.
Mark would not hear of appropriating an article which, in this hot
climate, he understood to be as essential as one's boots, and had, in
fact, already ordered a hired carriage for this enforced round of
visits.
His host at length departed for the High Court with semi-paternal
injunctions that his guest must not skip a single name in his valuable
list.
Presently the hired bandy, which had been waiting under a tree for some
time, was summoned, and Mark's butler, whom, on his host's
recommendation he had engaged that morning, stood salaaming below the
verandah steps preparatory to opening the carriage door.
"Where master wishing to drive?" asked Narainswamy in his best English.
"Morpeth house, Vepery," was the reply.