The hot weather had driven most of the residents in Rajahpore to the
hills. Mrs. Lepell had departed to Naini Tal, having vainly urged
Verona to accompany her, but Verona refused to leave home, and boldly
declared that she would like to find out if all the tales about the
season were true? The crops were reaped; where yellow grain and green
vetches had flourished was now but miles and miles of a substance
resembling red sandstone. The trees were leafless; the hot wind roared
about the country, driving clouds of sulphur-coloured dust before it,
and the thermometer was over a hundred in the shade. The doors of the
bungalow were fitted with transferable screens made of matting; over
these a coolie poured water continually, in order to establish a damp
atmosphere.
The punkah swung lazily in the darkened room, in which sat Pussy and
Verona, and occasionally Mr. Chandos, but Mrs. Chandos and Dominga
made no effort to exert themselves; the latter lay brooding on her bed
for hours with a packet of love letters under her head. The expedition
had duly come off. Jimmy was away in the Terai, tiger-shooting with
his cousin, Captain Haig, and Dom was deserted and distraught. She
became thin, haggard, and unbearably restless; she spent hours writing
letters--and lived upon those she received. Dom rarely left the
house nowadays, and made not the slightest attempt to conceal her
indifference to Baby Charles. There had been no more notes for him in
"Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management," and on the rare occasions
when they happened to meet she snubbed him ruthlessly.
"What did it mean?" After puzzling over the matter the station gave up
the riddle. They never imagined, even in their most brilliant moments,
that Dom had become tired of playing a part in a mock love affair,
and that all her thoughts, and hopes, and fears were buried in the
jungle--along with Jimmy Fielder.
One afternoon Verona received an urgent message from her grandmother
to say that she wanted to see her at once in her own room. When she
entered the dufta she discovered the old lady sitting with crossed legs
on her red lacquered bed--her sole costume a charm and a chemise.
"What is it, Nani?" enquired the girl, languidly.
Nani continued to fan herself with a prodigious hand punkah, and
presently remarked:
"Aré, Bai! it is hot to-day!"
Verona nodded. Surely Nani had not wished to see her merely to inform
her of this obvious fact!
"Shut the door, child, and sit down," resumed Mrs. Lopez. "Tell me,
have you noticed how happy Dom is these times? how she sings, and no
longer mopes like a sick owl? Would you hear the reason?"
"If you please, Nani."
"Once I told you she had a lover. Now I tell you--that she joins him in
a few hours."
"Oh, no, Nani--it is impossible!"
"Listen--he is one they call the 'Honourable.' At night he often came
out here to meet Dom--they thought no one knew. Cha-a-ah!" snapping her
fingers; "it was the talk of the bazaar. It came not to the knowledge
of the station folk--save of Salwey--who knows all things."
"But about to-day, Nani?"
"Oh, yes, Dom goes to-day, and she is packing now," she added
tranquilly.
"It must be stopped," said Verona, suddenly rising to her feet. "Think
of the shame and disgrace! your own grandchild!"
"Nay, you are my grandchild, also Pussy--and my best of all is gone.
Aré, Hai! Hai! But Dom is naught. I know her, and keep my own counsel.
I have two ears--but one tongue. I meddle not with Dom. No! 'Let
everyone sweep before his own door'!"
"Oh, Nani, tell me what you know--and how you know it?"
"How I know I will keep to myself, but _what_ I know--is this. There
is the gate, half a mile beyond the factory, where by signal the train
stops for sugar and passengers. At night, when one would travel that
way, old Jaggerie shows a lamp--he will show it at ten o'clock, when
the mail for the north goes by. The plan is this. Dom, with her luggage
carried by a syce, will be there and meet the train. Her lover is in
it--they go together to Cashmere."
"But he is in the Terai shooting," interrupted her listener.
"He is not there now. Dom's letters have recalled him to her. You go
into her room and see if I do not speak truly. Then come back."
Verona entered her sister's apartment, immediately after her knock, and
found her busily engaged in rolling up clothes into the smallest space,
and stuffing them into a leather bag, over which she threw a cloak
instantly--an instant too late. She looked hot and flushed.
"What is it?" she asked, peevishly; "what do you want? A paper? Goody
me! what paper?"
"_Truth._"
"Then it is not here, so now," with a stamp of her foot, "you go; go,
go, go. I am busy."
"Well?" enquired Mrs. Lopez, when Verona had returned.
"Yes, you are right. We must think of something?"
"You suppose you can stop her--the Red Cat--no, better let her go."
"Oh, Nani, no. Think of father, and do help me!"
"If you have a stout heart--it can be done. Verona, see, you take
Zorah, my woman, you wear a dark frock, and lie in wait near Jaggerie's
hut. When he hears the train coming, about one mile away or less, he
raises the lamp and shows light. He is old and very fat; but you are
young. You throw a cloth over light, and run away and blow it out. No
light, no train, you see--and so--Dom will be left."
"It is a splendid idea. I think I can manage to carry it out, Nani,
unless there is some other plan. Would you tell mother?"
"No; does she ever gainsay Dom?"
"Then Pussy?"
"She would but laugh and cry and let them go. No, you are the only one,
and Zorah may be trusted. You snatch the light--she will hide it."
At nine o'clock that night--a night so warm that the heat seemed to
fan one--Verona (supposed to have gone to bed) and Zorah, the ayah,
stole forth, and hurried away to the gate crossing. They arrived at the
hut, and crept round to the far side, and then stood in the shadow,
motionless. In twenty minutes' time Dom appeared, stepping delicately
on the warm, dried-up grass, and carefully holding up her spotless
white gown. She was closely followed by a syce, carrying a box and a
bag. Arrived at the gate she stood still, and held a long whispered
conference with old Jaggerie.
"Truly, in fifteen minutes," he said aloud, "in fifteen she will pass.
You can hear the train three miles away this still night. When she
comes to the bend, I raise my lamp and all will be well," and forthwith
he returned to his huka. The fifteen minutes seemed to Verona like
fifteen hours. She felt cold with apprehension as she stood in the
shadow of the hut, straining her ears, and catching no sound but the
shrill chirping of insects in the air and the discordant cry of some
night bird. If she missed the lamp, and was caught and unmasked--what
then? If with jeers and derision Dom threw her aside and made her
escape--what then? And, after all, what right had she to put herself
forward in Dominga's life? She did it, since no one else could, to
save the name of "Chandos," to fend off this blow from her father's
bent head. Oh, here it was! She heard the train coming, and how her
heart thumped! At first the sound was merely a dull rumble, becoming
gradually louder and louder. Now it was at the turn, and Jaggerie
shuffled out of the hut swinging a great square lantern. But what was
_this_? Something from behind sprang on him, and dragged the lamp
from his nerveless grasp, and there was instantly a thick darkness!
The cries of Jaggerie--"A Shaitan! A Shaitan!" were mingled with the
agonised voice of Dominga calling for the "light, the light, the
_light_!" But none was forthcoming; no spark to penetrate an oppressive
darkness--dense and thick as velvet. The train, the flaming engine
approached, was upon them with a roar--the great furnace for a second
illuminated a woman's figure at the gate, standing with extended
arms; then the locomotive thundered by, with its rumbling string of
carriages. The door of one of these stood wide, and in the aperture
appeared the gesticulating form of a man. Another second, and the mail
train for the north had swept by, and Dominga was left behind! For some
time she appeared totally unable to realise this fact and remained
rooted to the spot, staring after the rapidly receding red light with
dazed, incredulous eyes. Meanwhile the syce had darted into the hut and
brought forth a piece of blazing wood. Too late, alas! it was all too
late!
Suddenly with one wild scream Dominga flung herself face downwards on
the track, and abandoned her soul to an outbreak of passionate Oriental
despair. Truly, she was no Chandos now, this woman who lay in the dust,
beat her head upon the ground and shrieked aloud in piercing Hindustani.
Zorah stood far off, holding the extinguished lamp, but Verona, who was
nearer, viewed the spectacle with horror. Dominga had gone mad with
grief--could that dreadful, writhing, shrieking thing be her very own
sister?
By and by the syce approached--next Jaggerie (still groaning and
shaking from the effects of his devilish experience); attention was
diverted, Zorah beckoned, and in another moment was joined by her
fellow conspirator, and together they hurried home, maintaining a
somewhat guilty silence.
"So you have done it arl-right?" said Nani, as Verona entered.
"Yes, and I am--so sorry now--her grief was awful. Oh, Nani, I feel as
if I had killed Dominga!" and overcome with emotion and excitement, the
girl burst into tears.
"Pah--pah! no fear you kill Dom! More like she kill _you_. And what
says your proverb--'A cat has nine lives.'"
Verona sat up till one o'clock, anxiously listening until she heard the
stealthy return of her sister, and then she at last went to bed, and
fell into an uneasy sleep. The next afternoon Dominga appeared, looking
terribly pale and shattered. Her face was badly cut, her temples
bruised, her lips were lacerated. She was really a startling sight, but
in reply to her mother's anxious questions she replied:
"I fell in the garden last night--in the dark."
"Oh, my! it looks more than that--you make so little of your hurts,
Dom. What has happened?"
"It is as I say," she answered savagely. "Let there be no more talk."
Later, after the household had retired, Dominga, lamp in hand, came
trailing into Verona's room, and stood and stared at her as she
lay--with glaring, glittering eyes. She seemed to be the incarnation of
some wounded tigress. After an alarmingly long pause--
"_You_ know what it was," she declared in short gasps, "yes, you were
there and stole the light! The syce saw you! Oh, you deceitful devil!
you envied me my love, and so you snatched it away. I know, too, that
it was _you_ who begged Captain Haig to take Jimmy tiger shooting.
Yes, _he_ told Jimmy and Jimmy told me! We both hate you. May you be
accursed! May you go to Hell for ever, and be the prey of serpents. And
accursed you will be--even now--for I shall make your life a torment!"
Here was indeed the raw stuff of poor human nature illuminated by a
blaze of passion. Dom, with her fierce white face and furious eyes, was
the very embodiment of hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness. Her
lips were quivering and bloodless; she seemed scarcely able to breathe,
and shook with the vehemence of her feelings.
"Dom, you are talking nonsense," protested her sister. "I did prevent
your running away with Captain Fielder; you will thank me some day--and
I have kept your secret loyally. This sort of affair is hateful to
me--I do assure you."
Dominga's incredulous laugh was almost like the cry of a hyena.
"I know that Captain Fielder does not intend to marry you; you see what
his love means! I thought you were proud of being a Chandos. Could you
bear to drag your life out in the gutter?"
"I could bear to drag out my life, following Jimmy round the world on
my bare knees--I would ask no more; and last night I had not seen him
for six weeks--and I was within three minutes of meeting him--I--who
have been counting the very hours since he left me. And you--you"--she
choked--"oh, I cannot speak! but I could tear you to pieces"; and with
a moan like some wounded animal Dominga staggered from the room.
* * * * *
Whatever Dominga had told her mother, she now evinced to her third
daughter a bitter and invincible animosity--life became almost
insupportable, and the wretched girl's only refuge was either the den
or the dufta.
"Aha," exclaimed Nani, "it were better to have been advised by me. Dom
avers that you have ravished from her her lover--'The Honourable'--the
lord's son. She hath her mother's ear, and for all your good will, Dom
has set her against you. So you will find, 'that to gain a cat--you
have lost a cow'!"