DEAD OR ALIVE?
The conversation was interrupted by the return of Thud, who seemed
to be slightly excited, though his visage usually expressed nothing
but self-satisfaction, the solemn look befitting one with an inward
consciousness that he was seated in a professor’s chair to enlighten
the world with his wisdom.
“What’s the matter, boy?” asked the doctor quickly. “Where are Io and
her husband?”
“Looking after a wretched native woman whom an ox has gored and
trampled upon,” replied Thud. “If Oscar had not rushed up and broken
his umbrella over the brute, the woman would have been killed outright.
I think that she _is_ killed,” continued the lad, “or more than half.
You never saw such a horrid rush of blood from the wound! Io tied
her silk scarf round the woman to stop it;――the scarf will have
to be thrown away. ’Tis no use to try to save the creature. I’ve
a theory,”――Thud had relapsed into his natural, or rather unnatural
manner,――“that when people are at the last gasp it’s better to leave
them to die in peace.”
“We’ll remember your counsel when an ox gores you,” said the doctor
tartly. He had risen from his seat on hearing of the accident, taken up
his solar topi and umbrella, and was about to start with the chaplain
to see if his surgical skill could avail.
“No use in going out; they are all coming into the veranda,” said Thud.
“I informed them that the doctor was here.”
Dr. Pinfold gave rapid orders to a native servant who was waiting
outside regarding things which might be needed in a surgical case.
Whilst he was speaking, Oscar, with another man, bore into the veranda
the slight form of a Karen woman. Her long black hair hung over Mr.
Coldstream’s supporting shoulder, her garments were dabbled with blood,
her eyes were closed; the poor creature gave no sign of life, not
even a groan. A little Karen girl, some ten or twelve years of age,
weeping as if her heart would break, hung over the _charpai_ on which
her mother was now laid――the simple light bedstead which is so easily
carried, and which in the East seems to be always at hand. It had been
brought from a servant’s house in the compound by the order of Oscar.
“Bring water――brandy!” cried Dr. Pinfold. Io was off in a moment and
quickly brought both, whilst the doctor was examining the fearful wound
of the patient. The glass was put to the poor woman’s lips, but they
did not unclose; the liquid ran down on either side of the mouth, not a
drop was taken in. The eyes under those heavy lids would never see the
daylight again.
“No use; all’s over――she’s gone!” said Dr. Pinfold, after pressing his
fingers on her wrist to feel the pulse which no longer beat. He saw
that the woman was dead. “Nothing remains to be done but to carry off
the body for burial.”
“So soon!” exclaimed Io in a tone of expostulation. “Is it not possible
that life may linger?”
“Life is quite extinct,” said the doctor.
“She is deceased――annihilated――I told you so,” joined in Thud.
“We bury quickly in these latitudes,” observed Dr. Pinfold; “and it
would not be well to keep a corpse in the house to which Coldstream has
just brought his bride.”
“See, the veranda is desecrated by blood-stains,” said Thud, “and so is
Io’s apparel.”
“Go and change it, my love,” cried Oscar with a look of pain almost
amounting to horror.
“A few minutes――just let me stay a few minutes to try to comfort this
poor child,” said Io. “Let me try to find out from her whether she has
a father, brother, any protector, or whether she is alone in this wide,
wide world.” Putting her arm round the sobbing girl, Io spoke to her
in tender tones and in her own language, to the great surprise of Dr.
Pinfold. Io’s words were evidently understood; for while preparations
were being made for the removal of the corpse, Io drew from the young
Karen the fact that she had no father, no relation――that to her that
dead mother had indeed been all in all. The girl clung to the body
with wild tenacity, heedless of all that the chaplain, doctor, or
Oscar could say; yet, with a kind of instinctive obedience, loosened
her hold when Io laid her white hand on the brown one. Then the
child fell weeping at the feet of the lady, and kissed the hem of her
blood-stained robe.
“O Oscar dearest, if we can find no relation, will you not let me adopt
this poor child?” said Mrs. Coldstream, her bright eyes dewy with tears.
“Do whatever your kind heart prompts you to do,” was her husband’s
reply. “Your will is law here. The girl shall be brought up as your
little attendant.”
Io persuaded the young Karen to follow her to her own apartment, and
Oscar and Mr. Lawrence made arrangements for the removal of the body on
the _charpai_. The two Englishmen needed no introduction to each other,
meeting, as they did, under such solemn circumstances beside the form
of the dead. Mark Lawrence had been prepared to like Mr. Coldstream;
and now Oscar’s brave though fruitless attempt to save a poor native,
and the fact that he had himself carried her lifeless body, roused a
feeling of admiration in the heart of the lonely pastor which seemed
certain to warm into friendship. Mark thought that he had at last
found one to share his interests and cares, some one whose sympathy
would lighten his burdens. He looked at the high pale brow and the
fine features of Coldstream, and felt that he had never met with so
interesting a man. Oscar’s gentle courtesy to his wife had not escaped
the chaplain’s notice; and Mark silently thanked God for having sent to
Moulmein a pair whose friendship might, even to a disappointed man like
himself, make life a less sad and weary thing.
The two gentlemen went out to walk together, and Thud chose to make an
unwelcome third. Oscar and Mark found their conversation perpetually
interrupted by pedantic remark or tiresome question. Thud wanted to
give Mr. Lawrence an early impression of his own remarkable sagacity
and knowledge, and only succeeded in producing a conviction that
Coldstream must be a model of self-denial to make his roof-tree a perch
for such a self-conceited owl.