it fell flat on Lord Southminster. 'Do you know why I do not rise and go
down to my cabin at once?' I said, slowly. 'Because, if I did, somebody
as I passed might see my burning cheeks--cheeks flushed with shame at
your insulting proposal--and might guess that you had asked me, and that
I had refused you. And I should shrink from the disgrace of anyone's
knowing that you had put such a humiliation upon me. You have been frank
with me--after your kind, Lord Southminster; frank with the frankness of
a low and purely commercial nature. I will be frank with you in turn.
You are right in supposing that I love Harold Tillington--a man whose
name I hate to mention in your presence. But you are wrong in supposing
that the disposition of Mr. Marmaduke Ashurst's money has or can have
anything to do with the feelings I entertain towards him. I would marry
him all the sooner if he were poor and penniless. You cannot
_understand_ that state of mind, of course: but you must be content to
_accept_ it. And I would not marry _you_ if there were no other man left
in the world to marry. I should as soon think of marrying a lump of
dough.' I faced him all crimson. 'Is _that_ plain enough? Do you see now
that I really mean it?'
He gazed at me with a curious look, and twirled what he considered his
moustache once more, quite airily. The man was imperturbable--a
pachydermatous imbecile. 'You're all wrong, yah know,' he said, after a
long pause, during which he had regarded me through his eye-glass as if
I were a specimen of some rare new species. 'You're all wrong, and yah
won't believe me. But I tell yah, I know what I'm talking about. You
think it's quite safe about Marmy's money--that he's left it to Harold,
because you drew the will up. I assuah you that will's not worth the
paper it's written on. You fancy Harold's a hot favourite: he's a rank
outsidah. I give you a chance, and you won't take it. I want yah
because you're a remarkable woman. Most of the Ethels cry when they're
trying to make a fellah propose to 'em; and I don't like 'em damp: but
_you_ have some go about yah. You insist upon backing the wrong man. But
you'll find your mistake out yet.' A bright idea struck him. 'I say--why
don't you hedge? Leave it open till Marmy's gone, and then marry the
winnah?'
It was hopeless trying to make this clod understand. His brain was not
built with the right cells for understanding me. 'Lord Southminster,' I
said, turning upon him and clasping my hands, 'I will not go away while
you stop here. But you have some spark enough of a gentleman in your
composition, I hope, not to inflict your company any longer upon a woman
who does not desire it. I ask you to leave me here alone. When you have
gone, and I have had time to recover from your degrading offer, I may
perhaps feel able to go down to my cabin.'
He stared at me with open blue eyes--those watery blue eyes. 'Oh, just
as you like,' he answered. 'I wanted to do you a good turn, because
you're the only woman I evah really admiahed--to say admiah, don't you
know; not trotted round like the Ethels: but you won't allow me. I'll go
if you wish it; though I tell you again, you're backing the wrong man,
and soonah or latah you'll discover it. I don't mind laying you six to
four against him. Howevah, I'll do one thing for yah: I'll leave this
offah always open. I'm not likely to marry any othah woman--not good
enough, is it?--and if evah you find out you're mistaken about Harold
Tillington, remembah, honour bright, I shall be ready at any time to
renew my offah.'
By this time I was at boiling-point. I could not find words to answer
him. I waved him away angrily with one hand. He raised his hat with
quite a jaunty air and strolled off forward, puffing his cigarette. I
don't think he even knew the disgust with which he inspired me.
I sat some hours with the cool air playing about my burning cheeks
before I mustered up courage to rise and go down below again.
IX
THE ADVENTURES OF THE MAGNIFICENT MAHARAJAH
Our arrival at Bombay was a triumphal entry. We were received like
royalty. Indeed, to tell you the truth, Elsie and I were beginning to
get just a leetle bit spoiled. It struck us now that our casual
connection with the Ashurst family in its various branches had succeeded
in saddling us, like the Lady of Burleigh, 'with the burden of an honour
unto which we were not born.' We were everywhere treated as persons of
importance; and, oh dear, by dint of such treatment we began to feel at
last almost as if we had been raised in the purple. I felt that when we
got back to England we should turn up our noses at plain bread and
butter.
Yes, life has been kind to me. Have your researches into English
literature ever chanced to lead you into reading Horace Walpole, I
wonder? That polite trifler is fond of a word which he coined
himself--'Serendipity.' It derives from the name of a certain happy
Indian Prince Serendip, whom he unearthed (or invented) in some obscure
Oriental story; a prince for whom the fairies or the genii always
managed to make everything pleasant. It implies the faculty, which a few
of us possess, of finding whatever we want turn up accidentally at the
exact right moment. Well, I believe I must have been born with
serendipity in my mouth, in place of the proverbial silver spoon, for
wherever I go, all things seem to come out exactly right for me.
The _Jumna_, for example, had hardly heaved to in Bombay Harbour when we
noticed on the quay a very distinguished-looking Oriental potentate, in
a large, white turban with a particularly big diamond stuck
ostentatiously in its front. He stalked on board with a martial air, as
soon as we stopped, and made inquiries from our captain after someone he
expected. The captain received him with that odd mixture of respect for
rank and wealth, combined with true British contempt for the inferior
black man, which is universal among his class in their dealings with
native Indian nobility. The Oriental potentate, however, who was
accompanied by a gorgeous suite like that of the Wise Men in Italian
pictures, seemed satisfied with his information, and moved over with his
stately glide in our direction. Elsie and I were standing near the
gangway among our rugs and bundles, in the hopeless helplessness of
disembarkation. He approached us respectfully, and, bowing with extended
hands and a deferential air, asked, in excellent English, 'May I venture
to inquire which of you two ladies is Miss Lois Cayley?'
'_I_ am,' I replied, my breath taken away by this unexpected greeting.
'May I venture to inquire in return how you came to know I was arriving
by this steamer?'
[Illustration: I AM THE MAHARAJAH OF MOOZUFFERNUGGAR.]
He held out his hand, with a courteous inclination. 'I am the Maharajah
of Moozuffernuggar,' he answered in an impressive tone, as if everybody
knew of the Maharajah of Moozuffernuggar as familiarly as they knew of
the Duke of Cambridge. 'Moozuffernuggar in Rajputana--_not_ the one in
the Doab. You must have heard my name from Mr. Harold Tillington.'
I had not; but I dissembled, so as to salve his pride. 'Mr. Tillington's
friends are _our_ friends,' I answered, sententiously.
'And Mr. Tillington's friends are _my_ friends,' the Maharajah retorted,
with a low bow to Elsie. 'This is no doubt, Miss Petheridge. I have
heard of your expected arrival, as you will guess, from Tillington. He
and I were at Oxford together; I am a Merton man. It was Tillington who
first taught me all I know of cricket. He took me to stop at his
father's place in Dumfriesshire. I owe much to his friendship; and when
he wrote me that friends of his were arriving by the _Jumna_, why, I
made haste to run down to Bombay to greet them.'
The episode was one of those topsy-turvy mixtures of all places and
ages which only this jumbled century of ours has witnessed; it impressed
me deeply. Here was this Indian prince, a feudal Rajput chief, living
practically among his vassals in the Middle Ages when at home in India;
yet he said 'I am a Merton man,' as Harold himself might have said it;
and he talked about cricket as naturally as Lord Southminster talked
about the noble quadruped. The oddest part of it all was, we alone felt
the incongruity; to the Maharajah, the change from Moozuffernuggar to
Oxford and from Oxford back again to Moozuffernuggar seemed perfectly
natural. They were but two alternative phases in a modern Indian
gentleman's education and experience.
Still, what were we to do with him? If Harold had presented me with a
white elephant I could hardly have been more embarrassed than I was at
the apparition of this urbane and magnificent Hindoo prince. He was
young; he was handsome; he was slim, for a rajah; he wore European
costume, save for the huge white turban with its obtrusive diamond; and
he spoke English much better than a great many Englishmen. Yet what
place could he fill in my life and Elsie's? For once, I felt almost
angry with Harold. Why couldn't he have allowed us to go quietly through
India, two simple unofficial journalistic pilgrims, in our native
obscurity?
His Highness of Moozuffernuggar, however, had his own views on this
question. With a courteous wave of one dusky hand, he motioned us
gracefully into somebody else's deck chairs, and then sat down on
another beside us, while the gorgeous suite stood by in respectful
silence--unctuous gentlemen in pink-and-gold brocade--forming a court
all round us. Elsie and I, unaccustomed to be so observed, grew
conscious of our hands, our skirts, our postures. But the Maharajah
posed himself with perfect unconcern, like one well used to the fierce
light of royalty. 'I have come,' he said, with simple dignity, 'to
superintend the preparations for your reception.'
'Gracious heavens!' I exclaimed. 'Our reception, Maharajah? I think you
misunderstand. We are two ordinary English ladies of the proletariat,
accustomed to the level plain of professional society. We expect no
reception.'
He bowed again, with stately Eastern deference. 'Friends of
Tillington's,' he said, shortly, 'are persons of distinction. Besides, I
have heard of you from Lady Georgina Fawley.'
'Lady Georgina is too good,' I answered, though inwardly I raged against
her. Why couldn't she leave us alone, to feed in peace on dak-bungalow
chicken, instead of sending this regal-mannered heathen to bother us?
'So I have come down to Bombay to make sure that you are met in the
style that befits your importance in society,' he went on, waving his
suite away with one careless hand, for he saw it fussed us. 'I mentioned
you to His Honour the Acting-Governor, who had not heard you were
coming. His Honour's aide-de-camp will follow shortly with an invitation
to Government House while you remain in Bombay--which will not be many
days, I don't doubt, for there is nothing in this city of plague to stop
for. Later on, during your progress up country, I do myself the honour
to hope that you will stay as my guests for as long as you choose at
Moozuffernuggar.'
My first impulse was to answer: 'Impossible, Maharajah; we couldn't
dream of accepting your kind invitation.' But on second thoughts, I
remembered my duty to my proprietor. Journalism first: inclination
afterwards! My letter from Egypt on the rescue of the Englishwoman who
escaped from Khartoum had brought me great _eclat_ as a special
correspondent, and the _Daily Telephone_ now billed my name in big
letters on its placards, so Mr. Elworthy wrote me. Here was another
noble chance; must I not strive to rise to it? Two English ladies at a
native court in Rajputana! that ought to afford scope for some rattling
journalism!
'It is extremely kind of you,' I said, hesitating, 'and it would give us
great pleasure, were it feasible, to accept your friendly offer.
But--English ideas, you know, prince! Two unprotected women! I hardly
see how we could come alone to Moozuffernuggar, unchaperoned.'
The Maharajah's face lighted up; he was evidently flattered that we
should even thus dubiously entertain his proposal. 'Oh, I've thought
about that, too,' he answered, growing more colloquial in tone. 'I've
been some days in Bombay, making inquiries and preparations. You see,
you had not informed the authorities of your intended visit, so that you
were travelling _incognito_--or should it be _incognita_?--and if
Tillington hadn't written to let me know your movements, you might have
arrived at this port without anybody's knowing it, and have been
compelled to take refuge in an hotel on landing.' He spoke as if we had
been accustomed all our lives long to be received with red cloth by the
Mayor and Corporation, and presented with illuminated addresses and the
freedom of the city in a gold snuff-box. 'But I have seen to all that.
The Acting-Governor's aide-de-camp will be down before long, and I have
arranged that if you consent a little later to honour my humble roof in
Rajputana with your august presence, Major Balmossie and his wife will
accompany you and chaperon you. I have lived in England: of course I
understand that two English ladies of your rank and position cannot
travel alone--as if you were Americans. But Mrs. Balmossie is a nice
little soul, of unblemished character'--that sweet touch charmed
me--'received at Government House'--he had learned the respect due to
Mrs. Grundy--'so that if you will accept my invitation, you may rest
assured that everything will be done with the utmost regard to the--the
unaccountable prejudices of Europeans.'
His thoughtfulness took me aback. I thanked him warmly. He unbent at my
thanks. 'And I am obliged to you in return,' he said. 'It gives me real
pleasure to be able, through you, to repay Harold Tillington part of the
debt I owe him. He was so good to me at Oxford. Miss Cayley, you are new
to India, and therefore--as yet--no doubt unprejudiced. You treat a
native gentleman, I see, like a human being. I hope you will not stop
long enough in our country to get over that stage--as happens to most of
your countrymen and countrywomen. In England, a man like myself is an
Indian prince; in India, to ninety-nine out of a hundred Europeans, he
is just "a damned nigger."'
I smiled sympathetically. 'I think,' I said, venturing under these
circumstances on a harmless little swear-word--of course, in quotation
marks--'you may trust me never to reach "damn-nigger" point.'
'So I believe,' he answered, 'if you are a friend of Harold
Tillington's. Ebony or ivory, he never forgot we were two men together.'
[Illustration: WHO'S YOUR BLACK FRIEND?]
Five minutes later, when the Maharajah had gone to inquire about our
luggage, Lord Southminster strolled up. 'Oh, I say, Miss Cayley,' he
burst out, 'I'm off now; ta-ta: but remembah, that offah's always open.
By the way, who's your black friend? I couldn't help laughing at the
airs the fellah gave himself. To see a niggah sitting theah, with his
suite all round him, waving his hands and sunning his rings, and
behaving for all the world as if he were a gentleman; it's reahly too
ridiculous. Harold Tillington picked up with a fellah like that at
Oxford--doosid good cricketer too; wondah if this is the same one?'
'Good-bye, Lord Southminster,' I said, quietly, with a stiff little bow.
'Remember, on your side, that your "offer" was rejected once for all
last night. Yes, the Indian prince _is_ Harold Tillington's friend, the
Maharajah of Moozuffernuggar--whose ancestors were princes while ours
were dressed in woad and oak-leaves. But you were right about one
thing; _he_ behaves--like a gentleman.'
'Oh, I say,' the pea-green young man ejaculated, drawing back; 'that's
anothah in the eye for me. You're a good 'un at facers. You gave me one
for a welcome, and you give me one now for a parting shot. Nevah mind
though, I can wait; you're backing the wrong fellah--but you're not the
Ethels, and you're well worth waiting for.' He waved his hand. 'So-long!
See yah again in London.'
And he retired, with that fatuous smile still absorbing his features.
* * * * *
Our three days in Bombay were uneventful; we merely waited to get rid of
the roll of the ship, which continued to haunt us for hours after we
landed--the floor of our bedrooms having acquired an ugly trick of
rising in long undulations, as if Bombay were suffering from chronic
earthquake. We made the acquaintance of His Honour the Acting Governor,
and His Honour's consort. We were also introduced to Mrs. Balmossie, the
lady who was to chaperon us to Moozuffernuggar. Her husband was a
soldierly Scotchman from Forfarshire, but she herself was English--a
flighty little body with a perpetual giggle. She giggled so much over
the idea of the Maharajah's inviting us to his palace that I wondered
why on earth she accepted his invitation. At this she seemed surprised.
'Why, it's one of the jolliest places in Rajputana,' she answered, with
a bland Simla smile; '_so_ picturesque--he, he, he--and _so_ delightful.
Simpkin flows like water-- Simpkin's baboo English for champagne, you
know--he, he, he; and though of course the Maharajah's only a native
like the rest of them--he, he, he--still, he's been educated at Oxford,
and has mixed with Europeans, and he knows how to make one--he, he,
he--well, thoroughly comfortable.'
'But what shall we eat?' I asked. 'Rice, ghee, and chupatties?'
'Oh dear no--he, he, he--Europe food, every bit of it. Foie gras, and
York ham, and wine _ad lib_. His hospitality's massive. If it weren't
for that, of course, one wouldn't dream of going there. But Archie hopes
some day to be made Resident, don't you know; and it will do him no
harm--he, he, he--with the Foreign Office, to have cultivated friendly
relations beforehand with His Highness of Moozuffernuggar. These
natives--he, he, he--so absurdly sensitive!'
For myself, the Maharajah interested me, and I rather liked him.
Besides, he was Harold's friend, and that was in itself sufficient
recommendation. So I determined to push straight into the heart of
native India first, and only afterwards to do the regulation tourist
round of Agra and Delhi, the Taj and the mosques, Benares and Allahabad,
leaving the English and Calcutta for the tail-end of my journey. It was
better journalism; as I thought that thought, I began to fear that Mr.
Elworthy was right after all, and that I was a born journalist.
On the day fixed for our leaving Bombay, whom should I meet but Lord
Southminster--with the Maharajah--at the railway station!
He lounged up to me with that eternal smile still vaguely pervading his
empty features. 'Well, we shall have a jolly party, I gathah,' he said.
'They tell me this niggah is famous for his tigahs.'
I gazed at him, positively taken aback. 'You don't mean to tell me,' I
cried, 'you actually propose to accept the Maharajah's hospitality?'
His smile absorbed him. 'Yaas,' he answered twirling his yellow
moustache, and gazing across at the unconscious prince, who was engaged
in overlooking the arrangements for our saloon carriage. 'The black
fellah discovahed I was a cousin of Harold's, so he came to call upon me
at the club, of which some Johnnies heah made me an honorary membah.
He's offahed me the run of his place while I'm in Indiah, and, of
course, I've accepted. Eccentric sort of chap; can't make him out
myself: says anyone connected with Harold Tillington is always deah to
him. Rum start, isn't it?'
'He is a mere Oriental,' I answered, 'unused to the ways of civilised
life. He cherishes the superannuated virtue of gratitude.'
'Yaas; no doubt--so I'm coming along with you.'
I drew back, horrified. 'Now? While I am there? After what I told you
last week on the steamer?'
'Oh, that's all right. I bear yah no malice. If I want any fun, of
course I must go while _you're_ at Moozuffernuggar.'
'Why so?'
'Yah see, this black boundah means to get up some big things at his
place in your honah; and one naturally goes to stop with anyone who has
big things to offah. Hang it all, what does it mattah who a fellah is if
he can give yah good shooting? It's shooting, don't yah know, that keeps
society in England togethah!'
'And therefore you propose to stop in the same house with me!' I
exclaimed, 'in spite of what I have told you! Well, Lord Southminster, I
should have thought there were limits which even _your_ taste----'
He cut me short with an inane grin. 'There you make your blooming little
erraw,' he answered, airily. 'I told yah, I keep my offah still open;
and, hang it all, I don't mean to lose sight of yah in a hurry. Some
other fellah might come along and pick you up when I wasn't looking; and
I don't want to miss yah. In point of fact, I don't mind telling yah, I
back myself still for a couple of thou' soonah or latah to marry yah.
It's dogged as does it; faint heart, they say, nevah won fair lady!'
If it had not been that I could not bear to disappoint my Indian prince,
I think, when I heard this, I should have turned back then and there at
the station.
The journey up country was uneventful, but dusty. The Mofussil appears
to consist mainly of dust; indeed, I can now recall nothing of it but
one pervading white cloud, which has blotted from my memory all its
other components. The dust clung to my hair after many washings, and was
never really beaten out of my travelling clothes; I believe part of it
thus went round the world with me to England. When at last we reached
Moozuffernuggar, after two days' and a night's hard travelling, we were
met by a crowd of local grandees, who looked as if they had spent the
greater part of their lives in brushing back their whiskers, and we
drove up at once, in European carriages, to the Maharajah's palace. The
look of it astonished me. It was a strange and rambling old Hindoo
hill-fort, high perched on a scarped crag, like Edinburgh Castle, and
accessible only on one side, up a gigantic staircase, guarded on either
hand by huge sculptured elephants cut in the living sandstone. Below
clustered the town, an intricate mass of tangled alleys. I had never
seen anything so picturesque or so dirty in my life; as for Elsie, she
was divided between admiration for its beauty and terror at the
big-whiskered and white-turbaned attendants.
'What sort of rooms shall we have?' I whispered to our moral guarantee,
Mrs. Balmossie.
'Oh, beautiful, dear,' the little lady smirked back. 'Furnished
throughout--he, he, he--by Liberty. The Maharajah wants to do honour to
his European guests--he, he, he--he fancies, poor man, he's quite
European. That's what comes of sending these creatures to Oxford! So
he's had suites of rooms furnished for any white visitors who may chance
to come his way. Ridiculous, isn't it? _And_ champagne--oh, gallons of
it! He's quite proud of his rooms, he, he, he--he's always asking people
to come and occupy them; he thinks he's done them up in the best style
of decoration.'
He had reason, for they were as tasteful as they were dainty and
comfortable. And I could not for the life of me make out why his
hospitable inclination should be voted 'ridiculous.' But Mrs. Balmossie
appeared to find all natives alike a huge joke together. She never even
spoke of them without a condescending smile of distant compassion.
Indeed, most Anglo-Indians seem first to do their best to Anglicise the
Hindoo, and then to laugh at him for aping the Englishman.
After we had been three days at the palace and had spent hours in the
wonderful temples and ruins, the Maharajah announced with considerable
pride at breakfast one morning that he had got up a tiger-hunt in our
special honour.
Lord Southminster rubbed his hands.
'Ha, that's right, Maharaj,' he said, briskly. 'I do love big game. To
tell yah the truth, old man, that's just what I came heah for.'
'You do me too much honour,' the Hindoo answered, with quiet sarcasm.
'My town and palace may have little to offer that is worth your
attention; but I am glad that my big game, at least, has been lucky
enough to attract you.'
The remark was thrown away on the pea-green young man. He had described
his host to me as 'a black boundah.' Out of his own mouth I condemned
him--he supplied the very word--he was himself nothing more than a born
bounder.
[Illustration: A TIGER-HUNT IS NOT A THING TO BE GOT UP LIGHTLY.]