The rains were unusually late, and continued unabated till to the end
of September, with brief intervals of steamy heat. It was owing to this
circumstance that the "new Miss Chandos," as she was called, was such
a long time recovering her strength: in spite of her grandmother's
unflagging attendance, she appeared to have arrived at a certain
point of convalescence and there stuck fast. Sickness had brought an
obliteration of her troubles, but she was still sunk in a gulf of
weakness.
Mrs. Lopez plied her with her most potent remedies (she was acquainted
with some of the subtle herbs and invaluable native secrets unknown
to the European pharmacopœia), and several of her hitherto infallible
charms, without any obvious result. The truth was that the old woman
had to contend with the young girl's will--Verona had no desire to
recover. One afternoon as she lay in a sort of apathetic languor,
listening to the rain streaming down the gutters, pouring on the stone
verandah and beating on the big banana leaves with a steady "Drum,
drum, drum," her Nani entered a little wet and out of breath, carrying
some small object in her hand.
"Aré! Bai! see what I have got for thee! a baby squirrel to keep thee
company. We found him just now, washed out of the nest; all his sisters
and brothers are drowned, but the life is yet in him."
As she spoke Nani unfolded a morsel of red flannel and proudly
displayed a half-drowned squirrel (it looked like the proverbial rat).
She was about to hand it to Verona, who drew back with an instinctive
shudder, but when two little black eyes, full of terror, met her own,
she took the creature and proceeded to dry it very gently, and then
cover up the small, shivering body.
"Oh, ho! we will call him 'Johnny,' and make him a pet," announced
Nani, who presently fetched a bit of sponge and some warm milk
and proceeded to feed him. She was wonderfully expert in rearing
nondescript orphans, such as kids, kittens and young parrots.
Warmed and fed, Johnny crept up the sleeve of Verona's flannel jacket,
and there slept the sleep of exhausted infancy. For the first day or
two he was weakly and timid, and whenever he was startled immediately
sought refuge up Verona's sleeve! But he throve; he was promoted from
a bit of sponge to an egg-spoon and a morsel of rice, and in a short
time Johnny began to realise himself, to flit about the room, to dress
his fur and to take an interest in his personal appearance! And Johnny
gave Verona something to think of, and attract her thoughts outwards;
he did her ten times more good than her grandmother's most warranted
charm. She and Johnny had something in common; and when she felt the
forlorn little animal trembling in her sleeve, she recognised that here
was a fellow sufferer, who, like herself, was despairing and desolate
in the midst of unfamiliar surroundings. Verona and Johnny became fast
friends; at the sound of her call he would dart to her side, no matter
how absorbing his occupation. He was seeing the great big world for the
first time from the splendid vantage ground of a back verandah!
Nani--as already mentioned--slept in her granddaughter's room. She
also not infrequently took her meals there, and her manner of eating
was a complete revelation to the beholder, who never wearied of the
spectacle. Nani loved curry and rice--oh, such curry and rice as
never was tasted on sea or shore in the Western hemisphere! The meal
was served in two bowls--the curry, consisting of pieces of meat or
fowl, thick rich yellow gravy, charged with all manner of spices and
condiments, _so_ hot. Verona once ventured to taste a mouthful, and the
result was a gasping, a spluttering, and several irrepressible tears.
For here was the real true and only curry (no English make-believe),
but such as was eaten by the natives on the West Coast. One bowl
contained the notable comestible, and the other was filled with flaky
rice. Into the curry Mrs. Lopez plunged a plump and eager hand, seized
a morsel, then she dipped the same hand into the rice; in a moment it
became a neat and shapely ball; the next instant it had disappeared for
ever in her mouth.
Nani continued the process until both bowls were empty, not a trace of
curry or even a grain of rice remained. It was all assimilated with
extraordinary dexterity and despatch. When the meal had ended and the
bowls had been removed, Nani would declare:
"After such food one can seat oneself like a king! Now, that is how we
are intended to eat; it is the best way, and see, I make no mess--no
more than you and your bread and butter. I can use a knife and fork as
well as any one, but the fingers are best. Wash them, and there is no
trouble. Some day you will like it too, child."
But Verona only shook her head and smiled incredulously.
"How old are you, Nani?" she asked.
"Not so old as you think--about sixty-three, and how life flies. 'It is
as a swift horse passing a crevice,' so says the proverb. It seems but
yesterday, and I was young."
"You must have seen some strange things, Nani."
"Oh, yess; thatt is so," assented Mrs. Lopez, with gentle deliberation.
"What sort of things--do tell me?"
"Well, I have seen an enchanted well; this is true, true, true. No
matter how the water failed, it was always full. When the rains came it
remained just as before--never overflowed, the water always stopping
in the same place. All the learned people see it and marvel. I have
also seen a Mahommedan missionary preaching in the city to a crowd
of English soldiers; also I have seen strange people in the bazaar
too--Europeans who became natives, and forgot their own speech and
country."
"Oh, Nani--no!"
"Yes, it is true, especially in the old days. Some went into the bazaar
and they never came out. I remember one--oh, such a fine, straight,
strong man; he was a tent lascar and Mahommedan, at seven rupees a
month. People thought he was a Punjaubi--he was so fair--but I knew he
was an Englishman by his eyes. He came from a place called York-shire.
He had a pretty wife--a lascar's daughter. He was happy. Oh, yess."
"Do you remember the Mutiny, Nani?"
"Why not, when I was twenty years of age, and married? We were in
Bombay, then."
"And you saw nothing of it?"
"Truly I did, child; for four months after the massacre, I, who speak
to you, stood within the Bee-Bee Ghur itself."
"What was that?"
"Whatt! You not know? the ladies' house in Cawnpore, the bungalow where
the butchers cut them to pieces."
"Why were you there, Nani?"
"Child, you may ask! Lopez had business up country; in those days he
took me about, for he was proud of me. He stopped at Cawnpore--he had
an agent there, and he wanted to see the bungalow, 'the ladies' house',
where two of his own cousins were there murdered. Oh, yess, and so we
went; such a common old shabby place--just two large rooms. We went
in--many were there too, talking in whispers. The walls--oh, I wept
when I looked--they were covered with writing, prayers and bits of
hymns and loving messages and good-byes and names. Yes, the walls were
white once; but oh, Bapré Bap! such awful splashes, and high up in one
place, the full mark of a great red hand; and the floor--though all
washed, looked black. The room seemed damp and full of horrors and fear
and death. Oh no, no, I could not stay, like Lopez! No! no! no! in two
minutes I had run out, and there before me was the well. Yes, they were
all down there, and the top was bricked over. I could scarcely see for
crying, but I hid away behind a little wall and fell down. Oh, I could
not help it, and prayed for those souls, so cruelly, cruelly put to
death. My child, I did not get over that day for long years; it haunts
me now. As I speak to you, I can see it, and staring out at me from the
wall, the--hand--the--butcher's hand!"
"Oh, Nani--don't!" protested her listener. "I can almost see it too!"
"Well, we will not talk of that time any more, for in my veins I have
both the blood of those who killed at Cawnpore, and those who blew them
from the guns. My grandfather was an English officer, and we--we will
say no more. Let there be peace. Let us try and forget--and for a sick
child such talk is not good." Nani paused and remained silent for some
time. Then she said abruptly:
"But see, here is the crystal!"
As she uttered the word "crystal," she drew from some mysterious
receptacle an article resembling a glass paperweight.
"Now I will tell your fortune!"
"What is the use, Nani? It is told," protested Verona, wearily.
"What nonsense, child!" looking at her sharply; "the best part of your
life is to come."
Her granddaughter gave a faint, incredulous laugh.
"No, do not speak one word. I must look and be quiet for an hour. I
have to fix my mind."
Verona, thus silenced, summoned Johnny to play with her. He was a
pretty little fellow, the ordinary verandah squirrel of India--grey,
with a broad brown stripe down his back. He came at once, and sat on
the table beside her, and trimmed his whiskers. Presently he crept
into his old quarters--her sleeve--where he lay motionless for a long
time; perhaps he knew that the fate of his beloved lady was at that
particular moment trembling in the balance; perhaps he was merely
sleepy, being still a baby.
"Aré! Aré! whatt this is arl about I cannot say," proclaimed Nani after
an hour's silent contemplation. "I have seen strange things, child,
and a change that is coming to you--not death, not marriage. You look
at me--I see your face, and it smiles and--fades. No, no, no; it is of
no use! Yet this is a lucky day, and the omens are good. I met this
morning first thing, Mrs. Trotter--a mother of sons--what could be
better?"
"Never mind, Nani--I have no luck."
"Well, you have something--I cannot understand; a veil hangs over your
future. Now with Dom it is so easy, and Dom believes in the ink-pool of
the crystal."
"Does she?"
"To her you see it tells of a great uplifting--she stands with a light
around her. This may mean one of two things--a place above others, or
a violent death. Dom is a strange creature--she has strange blood in
her veins. She is all for herself. Only you notice, Dom will say: 'So
and so, he likes me'; 'there's So and so, she adores me'; but never 'I
like this one, or that one.' Dom likes only Dom," and Nani nodded with
melancholy emphasis.
"She has a handsome, witch-like face, and such a clever head--but of
whatt use here, I say to myself. What avails a mirror to a blind man?
She can never go beyond Manora--no? She will marry into the railway,
like Blanche, for all her cravings."
"Nani, I wonder why my father ever came here?"
"Because he had no choice, child."
"You remember him as a young man?"
"Why, of course. I remember as yesterday when I saw him. Oh, so
handsome and straight, and fair--who would think it now? And Rosa, she
was dying for him. Oh, she _would_ have him! What she wills ever comes
to pass. It were better she had never seen him. It is not always lucky
to have one's wishes granted--and the omens were bad. His cousin's
debts chained him here, but his heart was in Europe. All his thoughts
are there still--he changeth not. You know the proverb--'Bury a dog's
tail for twenty years, it will still be crooked.'"
"Why is he always so sad--and silent, Nani?"
"I know not the very truth, but often have I said to him:
'Gaiety is the support of the body,
But sadness makes it to grow old.'
You too are sad, always, child. Why is it so? Come, now tell your old
Nani?"
Verona made no reply, but hid her face in her hands, and shuddered
convulsively from time to time. Johnny, vaguely alarmed, ran down her
sleeve, peeped out and fled; but not a moment too soon--for the second
time in his short life he had escaped a deluge! On this occasion--of
tears. Bodily weakness, weariness, misery caused this sudden outbreak,
to the amazement and alarm of Nani; and despite her expostulations and
ejaculations, Verona wept till she sank into a sort of stupor, and so
passed into the land of dreams.