THE EXPEDITION.
When Mr. Lawrence’s short visit was ended, Io meditated over what she
had heard with self-reproach and abasement.
“I have been adding to my Oscar’s troubles,” she said to herself,
“instead of trying to lighten his burden. If he has indeed made a
painful sacrifice to honour and duty, shall I, by my pride and sullen
gloom, show him that as regards my happiness it has been made in vain?
Shall I not gratefully accept the affection which he gives me, though
it be not the all-absorbing, idolatrous love which my selfishness, my
pride demands? May I not be risking all by requiring too much? That is
my Oscar’s step! with what joy I would once have sprung forth to meet
him!” Io dried her eyes, and rose as Coldstream entered the veranda,
an anxious, careworn look on his face.
“Io, my love, I have just been speaking with Pinfold about you,” he
said. “The doctor suggests that a change of air and scene might do
you more good than medicine. What say you to a little camping out――an
expedition to Tavoy?”
“I should like it extremely,” replied Io in her natural tone. She felt
that it would be pleasant to escape from curious eyes, and wearisome
inquiries after her health, to enjoy freedom in the wild woods, with
Oscar for her companion. Her husband was pleased at the readiness and
cheerfulness of her reply.
“You are not afraid of a little roughing it?” inquired Oscar tenderly,
taking a seat beside his wife. “We should have to sleep in my little
tent.” He had taken Io’s hand in his own, and was gently caressing it
as he spoke.
“I should enjoy the life,” was Io’s reply; “only, I was forgetting one
thing: I could not leave my Maha behind, there is no lady in Moulmein
to whom I could trust the poor child.”
“You shall take Maha with you,” said Oscar; “she shall share your tent
at night, and wait on you by day.”
“But where would you sleep, my Oscar?”
“Under the trees――I’ve done so before; that is nothing to an old
sportsman like me. A knapsack for a pillow, a rug for a bed――in this
fine climate that is luxury enough for a man.”
“For you, I daresay, but not for me,” observed Thud, who had joined
the Coldstreams in the veranda, and so had heard the conversation
between them. “I have an idea that sleeping under trees is bad for the
constitution.”
“By all means remain under a roof,” said Oscar, who was not anxious to
have the company of Thucydides Thorn. “I shall ask Mr. Lawrence to let
you live with him during our absence, and you will go on with your work
at the wharf.”
“With Mr. Lawrence!” said Thud dolefully; “I’d rather be sent to prison
at once. Fancy being boxed up with a parson! I’d rather by far chum
with Pogson.”
“I will not consent to your chumming with Pogson. As long as
your mother trusts you to my care, you must allow me to make your
arrangements,” said Coldstream, with that quiet decision which even
Thud was learning to respect.
“Then I’ll go to Tavoy,” decided Thud. “I daresay that you can get
another tent for my use.”
“Not without expense and delay,” replied Oscar. “I am anxious to start
on Monday, so as, if possible, to reach Tavoy by the end of the week.
Remember that all our luggage has to be carried on mules. A large
cavalcade is not to be desired. I should like you to stay in Moulmein.”
“And I should like to go to Tavoy,” said the lad. “If I must sleep
under a tree, I must. I’ll have two rugs and a blanket. Camping out
will give me fine opportunities of adding to my knowledge of natural
history.”
“Yes; you will have the opportunity of finding out whether the mosquito
has a proboscis not due to man’s cultivation,” said Io archly.
“How would you like to travel, my love?” inquired Oscar of his wife.
“To ride your pony all the way would be far too fatiguing, and there
is no proper carriage-road. What say you to a litter, or a howdah on
an elephant’s back?”
“I should like an elephant of all things,” exclaimed Io, with so much
of her old playfulness that Oscar’s face relaxed into something like a
smile.
“I should like it of all things too!” cried Thucydides Thorn.
“The howdahs used here are very small,” observed Oscar; “there is room
for but two persons in them.”
“All right. You prefer walking, or riding a _tat_ [country pony]; Io
and I will sit in the howdah.”
“You forget the young Karen,” said Oscar. “She must sit with her lady.”
“Oh, I say!” exclaimed Thud with more of the school-boy than of
the philosopher in his manner and tone; “a dirty brown beggar on an
elephant’s back, and I on a wretched tat!”
“No one obliges you to go at all,” observed Coldstream.
But Thud was resolved to make one of the party, even if a tat were
to be his only means of conveyance. Besides, he had thought of a less
ignoble steed.
“I’ll ride Io’s pony, Lightfoot,” said he.
“Io may choose sometimes to ride him herself,” observed Oscar. “We
shall take a lady’s saddle with us.”
“Besides that, dear Thud,” said Io, “you might spoil Lightfoot’s paces
or harden his mouth; you have only as yet ridden donkeys.”
To be told that he did not know how to ride was an insult almost too
great for Thud’s philosophy to endure. He made a silent resolve that
he _would_ ride, and ride Lightfoot, but the presence of Coldstream
prevented his making a reply. He only looked like an owl in the sulks.
Every one now was busy with preparations, and the work was good both
for Oscar and Io. The latter felt her spirits rebound at the prospect
of the change. Io resolved, if possible, to help Oscar to regain his
lost cheerfulness, and not herself let her mind dwell on depressing
thoughts.
“I will try to forget that such a being exists as Adelaide Mortimer,”
said Io to herself, as she dived into the depths of one of her large
trunks, to bring out such things as would be most suited for the
intended expedition. “I will try to forget that there was ever a woman
who so came between me and my betrothed that to renounce her cost him a
terrible illness, and has ever since darkened his life with gloom. Let
a thick curtain be drawn over the past; may grace be given me to make a
better use of the present, and look forward with more hope and faith to
the future!”
Thud sauntered into the room where Io was standing surrounded by a
heterogeneous collection of articles scattered on the floor, things
hastily pulled out of the box to be replaced in it as soon as a
selection should have been made. Thud had in him something of the
forager as well as the sage: the owl does not think it below its
dignity to pounce down on a mouse.
“Ah! that muslin――it will just suit me for a _pagri_ [turban]; one must
wear a _pagri_ twisted round one’s hat to keep off the heat of the sun
even in what they call the cold weather.”
“Take it, and welcome,” said Io.
“And that piece of American waterproof cloth――that’s just what I want,”
cried Thud.
“But I happen to want it too,” said Io good-humouredly; “I brought it
to wrap up the first parcel which I intend to send to dear mother in
England.”
“You can easily get more such cloth; you can wait, and I can’t, if
we’re to start on Monday,” said Thud. “You must make for me a big bag
or case with a dozen pockets; I’ll show you just what I want. I’ll have
a label sewn on each――one pocket for minerals, one for beetles, one for
butterflies, one for feathers, one for eggs, one for my journal (for I
must take no end of notes), and one for fishing-hooks and flies (for I
must have ichthyological specimens too).”
“And is this big case to be hung round your neck?” asked Io.
“Not a bad idea, to have it handy. I could not get at it if it were
packed amongst other luggage on a mule, and I shall be wanting it every
minute.”
Io was an indulgent sister. She gave the cloth and patient attention
besides, and with the assistance of the _darzi_ (tailor) the bag was
made. Thud insisted on its being bound with red braid, also drawn from
Io’s stores, with strong strings of red ribbon to fasten it on securely.
The lad looked at his “specimen case,” as he called it, with pride: it
was to be the nucleus of the museum which in his mind’s eye he already
beheld――a museum with portico and pillars, containing the valuable
collection of Thucydides Thorn, with some eight or ten mysterious
capitals after his name.
Thud appeared to be too busy even to go to church on the following
Sunday. Notwithstanding Io’s expostulations, she had to leave him to
write labels and affix them on his specimen case.