Hester was still sitting in the verandah waiting her husband's return.
Her own preparations for the projected journey to the hills were well
advanced, but there was still a good deal to settle before their
departure, and she had expected Alfred to hurry home earlier than usual
to complete all arrangements. Not realising how late it was, she
reckoned that he must have been detained by some important interview
with a client. As she sat with folded hands wearily waiting, her
thoughts suddenly reverted to the disagreeable visitors of the afternoon
and their extraordinary communication. It seemed to take shape in her
mind for the first time and she sighed softly.
"I only wish Mr. Morpeth had been Alfred's father! How differently he
would have brought him up from that silly aunt whose memory he
despises!"
But the story was so evidently the outcome of malice that it was hardly
worthy of consideration. Perhaps this Leila Baltus had been a former
acquaintance of Alfred's. The thought had occurred to her before, and
now she felt certain of it, and yet it seemed strange in the light of
his bitter prejudice against the Eurasian community. But evidently the
girl did owe him a grudge, and it was not pleasant to think of; so
Hester tried to dismiss the incident from her mind.
She rose from her lounging chair and began to pace up and down the
verandah, looking out on the moon-silvered lawn and drinking in the
peace of the midnight landscape. A slight movement of one of the side
blinds of the verandah which had not, like the others, been raised at
sunset, now arrested her attention. She drew some steps nearer. Through
one of the chinks of the rattan, which was being gently pushed up, she
caught sight of a pair of eyes. For a moment she stood riveted to the
spot with terror, then she turned with the intention of rousing the
"maty," whom she knew to be stretched in deep slumber in the verandah at
the back of the house, but a voice whispered through the
chinks--"Hester."
The tone that fell on her ear was not familiar. Was it a ghostly
presence that had crept near her? Those eyes had looked so terrible.
They were withdrawn now, and she heard a light footfall on the steps
which froze her blood within her. Suddenly her husband stood before her
in his strange garb and with so wild and distraught a bearing that her
terror was hardly lessened.
"Alfred," she gasped. "What is the matter? Why have you come like this?"
"Hush, Hester, don't speak so loud. Nobody must hear. Are you quite
alone? Nobody about--all the servants gone?" whispered her husband,
glancing round furtively.
"Alfred, what has--How awful you look--and that dress. What has
happened?"
"Yes, I must look an awful guy! I'm sorry I've scared you! I might at
least have taken off the turban before I showed myself--seeing I'm not a
native, anyhow," he added, with a bitter laugh. Then springing forward
he took hold of his wife's trembling hands and wailed in a piteous tone:
"Oh, Hester, you won't desert me? Whatever happens, whatever you may
hear about me. There will be many lies afloat. Hester, I'm in mortal
trouble, everything has tumbled to bits----"
"Alfred, is it--is it that you've just found out--since you left this
morning--that Mr. Morpeth is your father?" she asked, holding his hands
and looking into his eyes.
"So you've heard that!" he gasped. "It's true what that fiend told
me----"
"But why trouble about that?" said Hester gently. "I have just been
thinking how good it would be if it were true! I know you have hated
Eurasians, but--but if your father is one, surely that prejudice will
snap like a gossamer thread. Think how noble he is--and Mark Cheveril
too."
As she spoke that name, a picture, like a benediction, sprang into her
troubled mind--those frank, honest eyes, that chivalrous protective
presence--what would she not give to have Mark Cheveril with her at this
difficult juncture to aid her in her persuasions, for she had not yet
fathomed the abyss of trouble which seethed about her. "Why, Alfred, a
parentage like that will be our pride," she went on, and her tone rang
with conviction.
Her husband stared at her for an instant with a strange wistful
expression in his eyes, then he shook his head and pulled his hand from
her grasp.
"It's a lie," he shrieked. "A vile lie! I wouldn't touch the man with
the tongs! He's not my father. You're on the wrong track altogether,
Hester, it's not that. Listen and I'll whisper," he added, turning with
terrified eyes to stare at the long shadows thrown by the moonlight from
the shrubs encircling the gravel sweep. "I'm a hunted man. They're after
me already--the police, I mean! I'm a criminal, Hester! In a mad moment
I yielded to a vile temptation. The long and the short of it is that
I've made myself liable to conviction for forgery. I'm ruined."
Then he narrated incoherently all that had led up to his using the
Mahomedan's name.
Hester listened silently with strained eyes and a face of deadly pallor.
Indeed she seemed unable to find utterance.
"Speak, Hester," wailed her husband, when he had told her all. "Don't
stand staring at me like a ghost. I've come to say good-bye, Hester! I
couldn't resist that. Mind, I did it for you--to get money to go to the
hills, and now I'll have to flee an outcast and alone!"
"But how--where?" asked Hester in bewildered tones, as if she was only
beginning to have a glimmering of the dreadful import of the revelation
which she had just heard.
"Well, listen--I might dodge the police if I can get off to-night. I've
got some hours in front of them still. I can't for the life of me steady
my thoughts to make any plan. Hester, help me!" he wailed feebly. "I
can't, I won't see the inside of an Indian jail!"
Hester's eyes dilated with horror, but she seemed unable to utter a
word.
"Look here, wife, if I could only get hold of some disguise I might get
off by the early train to Beypore, and go on to Karrachi and ship there.
I've got a pal there who will help me, and see me through this scrape if
I could only reach Beypore without being caught. Ah, but I shouldn't
have told you--I should have kept that dark! Never mind now, you're my
wife and you can keep a secret. Can't you plan out any make-up that
would serve my turn--male or female?"
Hester's mind was already at work. She had so far grasped the desperate
situation. Pain and shame gnawed at her spirit, and the unspoken wail
rang in her heart, "Oh, how could he commit such a dreadful crime?" Even
the query rose in her mind, "Was it right to help him?" If she did not,
the issue was certain according to his own showing. When morning dawned
he would be dragged off to prison. That slender body, those high strung
nerves would not stand that even for a day! "O God, help me," she
murmured, looking on the cowering figure of her husband. "The issues are
with Thee, but surely it is for me, his wife, to help him at this
terrible hour--all I can!"
"Oh, save me, Hester, save me!" implored her husband. "The morning will
be on us, and they'll drag me off as sure as fate."
"Listen to me, Alfred," began Hester, in a quiet firm voice. "Will you
wait here for a moment? I think I have a plan, but I must go up-stairs
and see ayah about it. You need not fear her, she'll be quite
faithful----"
"Anyhow we must risk it," he interrupted, with a ring of hope in his
voice. "I'll wait, Hester, but be quick, there's not a moment to lose."
Left alone Mr. Rayner threw himself on one of the lounging chairs, then,
feeling faint, he remembered that he had not tasted food for many hours.
"Shan't whisper that to her, or she'd be insisting on a good square
meal, and that might cost me dear."
He made his way to the dining-room and lit one of the candles in the
candelabra which stood on the table. He went to the sideboard and poured
himself out a glass of brandy and drank it eagerly. The stimulant nerved
him for a little, but he began to grow impatient for his wife's return.
Meanwhile Hester's brain was at work up-stairs. In a whisper she had
confided to her ayah that her husband must hurry off at once because he
had done something bad which had been found out.
"Something veree bad," repeated the ayah, shaking her head. "Poor
gentleman, what a pity it is done find out!"
"When we do wrong it is always found out by God, ayah," replied Hester.
"His punishment must come unless we repent and make amends. But I feel
we must give him some help. I want to dress my husband in some clothes
as unlike his own as possible. Where is that saree and jacket you used
to wear in the cold weather. Will you sell it to me, ayah?"
"Sell, missus? I giving, not selling. I go fetch this veree minute."
Hester then hurried downstairs quickly, divulging the plan to her
husband.
"First-rate idea!" he said, springing up from his chair. "You're a
genius, Hester!"
"Come then," she answered, drawing his arm through hers and leading him
up-stairs.
The ayah stood in readiness, holding the required garments.
"Awfully good of you, ayah," said Mr. Rayner almost lightly. "I'll send
your saree back again, or better still, your missus will buy you a new
one!"
The red saree was soon deftly arranged by the ayah, but when she drew
back to regard her work, she shook her head.
"Ai, ai, thatt _feringhi_ white face will spoil all!"
"She's right, Hester," said Rayner, fixing hopeless eyes on his wife.
Hester silently went to her _almirah_, remembering a little box of
colouring powders which had been given her by a visitor to the Rectory
when some charades were on foot, and her brothers had to be hastily
transformed into Red Indians. She had returned the box next morning, but
her friend had said, "Keep it, my dear, you may find it useful yet!" She
recalled the words with a sad smile. Yes, she thought, she would find it
useful now to help the flight of her husband, to whom she had not been a
year married, and to save him, if possible, from being convicted as a
forger!
She set about her work, executing it as skilfully as on that happy
evening when she had won golden opinions for her clever imitation of the
colouring of Red Indians. The old ayah forgot her misery, and fairly
clapped her hands when she saw the result. Even Mr. Rayner, when he
surveyed himself in the mirror after having the saree draped round his
head, said with a relieved air:
"Hester, you're an angel! I declare I'll pass for an old ayah going to
visit my granddaughter. Of course my lovely nut brown hue will soon wear
off but it may last till I reach--ah, I mustn't mention the place,
though! But I'm afraid those bare feet, though brown enough, will take
badly to the road, and yet my shoes would give me away."
"But master must have ring on his toe," cried the ayah, and the kindly
old woman transferred her own ring from her toe to his.
"You'll need to hurry, Alfred," said Hester. "The dawn is beginning to
steal in."
When her husband caught sight of her grief-stricken face, the brief
courage which his successful disguise had imparted began to give way.
"Oh, I can't do it, Hester," he moaned. "I'm not fit to go through with
it. I'll rather stay and be caught, like a rat in a trap," and he threw
himself down on a sofa.
Hester's brave spirit rose with the desperate crisis.
"You must carry out your plan, Alfred. It's too late to draw back
now--unless it is any sense that it is wrong to go that makes you
shrink? You must not let your faint heart get the upper hand," she said
firmly, almost dragging him from the sofa. "Alfred, I want to say
something to you," she whispered, as they went downstairs to the
verandah. "Will you try to think of what you've done? It's so terrible!
Will you cry to God to make you feel the shame and the sin of it all? It
is never too late to seek His forgiveness. Nothing else really matters
but that in the end," she said softly, and her eyes pleaded more than
her words.
"You're a saint," murmured her husband, looking into her face with an
awed air. "God bless you, my sweet wife! I was never worthy of you. Old
Worsley was right there."
Even in her woe Hester felt surprise at these words. "He's dreaming,"
she thought, but the time for words was past. Not one moment longer
could she allow him to linger. She urged him to go, but he threw himself
into a chair.
"It's you who are sending me away," he groaned. "I never thought it
would end so. I won't be hoofed out by you like this! No, don't lay a
finger on me," he cried, pushing her away as she stooped over him
caressingly, as a mother might over a rebellious child. "You'll spoil my
make-up if you touch me and then my only chance of escape will be gone!"
After a moment he recovered himself and started up. "Look here, Hester,
how could I forget? You must share in my gold--I've got plenty here," he
said, pulling out one of the bags he had stowed away in the remnants of
English clothing which he had retained beneath the thickly pleated folds
of the red saree. "See, I'll give you half----"
"Of the money you stole!" cried his wife, with a ring of scorn in her
voice. "Not a penny of it! Come what may, it must all be returned to the
Mahomedan, whoever he is," she added with decision. The incident seemed
to brace her thoughts, though she was conscious that the fact of her
husband offering her a share of his theft emphasised the gulf between
them. Something of this seemed to strike him also. He stood staring at
her with misery in his eyes.
"Oh, Hester, what a hideous mess I've brought you into!" he burst forth.
"But you'll not forsake me, will you? This horrid hunt for me will not
last long. I'll get off scot free, never fear. We may be able to meet
soon and go to England together. I'll send you word. If not together,
I'll hurry there, and you'll meet me, won't you, dear?" he asked,
clinging to her.
Hester started back on seeing the growing light of the sky.
"Alfred, you're forgetting the risk you run by lingering like this. You
must go as long as it is possible. See, it will be day soon. Oh, do go,
I implore you," she cried in terror, thinking she heard sounds in the
back verandah, and almost pushing him down the steps. "I cannot let you
perish! Go, go, oh, do go!"
"I fear I can't risk my make-up by an embrace," he said lightly, looking
back as he began to go down the steps. But when he reached the gravel,
he darted up again and threw his arms round her trembling figure,
kissing her passionately; then he fled, just as the silver dawn was
chasing the last shadows of night from the sky.
Hester stood a silent statuesque figure, watching her husband as he
disappeared along the avenue of casuarina trees. Then her dauntless
spirit gave way and she fell down in a faint.