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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Outcaste, by F. E. Penny
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Outcaste
+
+Author: F. E. Penny
+
+Release Date: December 10, 2011 [EBook #38195]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OUTCASTE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Cover art]
+
+
+
+
+
+THE OUTCASTE
+
+
+BY
+
+F. E. PENNY
+
+
+AUTHOR OF
+
+"THE SANYASI," "THE RAJAH," "THE MALABAR MAGICIAN," ETC.
+
+
+
+SPECIAL EDITION
+
+For sale only in India and the British Colonies
+
+
+
+
+LONDON
+
+CHATTO & WINDUS
+
+1912
+
+
+
+
+[_The Portrait on the Cover is reproduced from a Miniature by G. I.
+Penny_]
+
+
+
+
+_All rights reserved_
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATED
+
+TO THE
+
+STUDENTS OF HINDU THEOLOGY AND ETHICS
+
+WHOSE WRITINGS
+
+HAVE ASSISTED ME TO TELL
+
+THIS STORY
+
+
+
+
+_The scene is laid in the Native State of Chirakul._
+
+
+CHIRAPORE  . . . Chief Town of Chirakul.
+
+ANANDA . . . . . A Convert to Christianity.
+
+BOPAUL . . . . . Friend of Ananda, and of the same Caste.
+
+COOMARA  . . . . Married to Bopaul's Sister.
+
+DR. WENASTON . . Principal of the Maharajah's College at Chirapore.
+
+EOLA WENASTON  . His Sister.
+
+PROFESSOR TWYFORD
+
+MRS. HULVER  . . Housekeeper to Dr. Wenaston.
+
+DORAMA . . . . . Ananda's Wife.
+
+PANTULU  . . . . His Father.
+
+GUNGA  . . . . . His Mother.
+
+SOOBA  . . . . . His Uncle.
+
+MAYITA . . . . . Coomara's Widow.
+
+
+
+
+THE OUTCASTE
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+The aviation ground was thronged with spectators.  Eyes were turned
+skywards and men held their breath.  Women uttered ejaculations, drawn
+unconsciously from them in their intense excitement.  The wind blew
+gustily with an upward sweep that sent dead leaves and fragments of
+paper into the air.  A furious blast heralding the coming storm seized
+one of the aviators as he was in the act of turning.  It seemed to
+shake him with a living enmity.  Under the violent motion the tips of
+the delicate wings of his machine snapped.  He recognised the
+seriousness of the accident; and the breathless multitude watched his
+efforts to avoid impending catastrophe.  As well might the dying bird,
+winged by the October sportsman, try to sustain its arrested flight.
+The machine ceased its horizontal movement, folded its broken planes
+about its struggling guide, and dropped almost vertically to the ground.
+
+Some, fascinated by the horror of it all, stared at the falling wreck.
+Others withdrew their gaze, but could not shut their ears to the thud
+and crash in which the earthly life of a human being came to an abrupt
+end.
+
+The hush was followed by a murmur as emotion found expression in speech
+and exclamation.  Many of the women shed tears; some screamed; a few
+fainted.  Ten minutes later there was a general stir as the sightseers,
+sick at heart, began to depart.
+
+Eola Wenaston beckoned to her brother, who stood at a little distance
+talking to a couple of men.  He approached the motor car into which she
+had just stepped.  Before she could speak he hastened to reassure her,
+anticipating the question that was on the lips of all.
+
+"It's all right; the man is not dead.  Of course he has had a shock,
+falling from such a height, and the machine is smashed to atoms.  You
+need not be nervous----"
+
+"I'm not nervous.  It was a horrid sight, but I'm not troubled with
+nerves.  The man must be dead after such a fall."
+
+"Well, no one can say how----"
+
+She interrupted him with a touch of impatience born of anxiety.
+
+"Would you mind going home by train?  Mrs. Greenford is thoroughly
+unhinged.  She is in that tent over there crying her heart out, and she
+ought to be taken away at once."
+
+"She doesn't know him, does she?"
+
+"Yes, slightly.  It appears that he dined with her and her husband last
+night."
+
+"What do you wish to do?"
+
+"Drive her home at once; but it leaves you to go by rail.  You won't
+mind giving her your seat in the motor?"
+
+She did not doubt for a moment that he would object.  The car was a new
+purchase made by Wenaston on his arrival in England on furlough.  He
+intended to take it back to India on his return to his work.
+
+"Not a bit," he replied readily.
+
+"I can't ask Miss Stuart to give up her place in the car."
+
+"Of course not; I'll join Ananda and his friends.  They are travelling
+up by the special leaving in about an hour's time."
+
+"You need not journey in their company.  Now-a-days, when our blood is
+curdled by assassinations----"
+
+He interrupted her.
+
+"They are all right--three of the nicest fellows I know."
+
+She made a little grimace, not noticing that a Hindu, faultlessly
+frock-coated and top-hatted, had approached on the other side of the
+motor, and was waiting for an opportunity to speak, waiting with the
+courtesy of good breeding that happily is not the monopoly of the
+European.
+
+"Still, one cannot forget----" she mentioned the name of a well-known
+public man who had been done to death by an Oriental fanatic.
+
+The blood rushed to the temples of the Hindu.  He raised his hat as he
+said quietly--
+
+"You must not suppose that we are all assassins, Miss Wenaston, any
+more than I may suppose you English to be all murderers like----" and
+he in his turn named a notorious criminal who had recently been
+convicted of a murder perpetrated under circumstances of peculiar
+cruelty.
+
+"Of course not!  I beg your pardon, Mr. Ananda.  I ought not to have
+said it."
+
+In her contrition she turned and held out her hand.  She felt the
+nervous close grip, momentary as it was, and the friendliness of the
+Englishwoman warmed towards the exile.
+
+"My brother proposes to travel home with you by rail and give his seat
+in the motor to Mrs. Greenford, who is upset by the accident.  Have you
+heard how the aviator is?"
+
+"I am afraid from all accounts he is in a bad way.  The committee has
+decided to stop the competitions for to-day.  Visitors ought to have no
+objection."
+
+"It is sad to have an ending like this!"  She turned to Wenaston.
+"Please go and find Mrs. Greenford; Miss Stuart is with her.  Bring
+them both here.  Tell them I am in a hurry to start.  I should like to
+get Mrs. Greenford away before she hears worse news.  Oh!  I wish he
+hadn't attempted that last flight!  It was quite unnecessary, and not
+on the programme--a mere show to please the people."
+
+Ananda stood by the motor whilst Wenaston went to do his sister's
+bidding.
+
+"You take these things too seriously, Miss Wenaston.  If you were a
+fatalist you would believe that it was preordained by the gods; and you
+would be resigned.  It is of no use to fight against fate.  He had to
+meet it whether he flew upon an aeroplane or whether he remained in his
+own house.  We are taught that we cannot escape the fulfilment of our
+destiny."
+
+She looked at him, her attention suddenly rivetted.
+
+"You are taught, you say; but do you believe your teacher in these days
+of greater enlightenment?"
+
+A reply was not immediately forthcoming.  Perhaps he would have left
+the question unanswered if she had not uttered an interrogatory,
+"Well?" in a tone that held something more than mere curiosity.
+
+"I am trying to retain my belief in all that my guru instilled into my
+mind before I left India."
+
+"You find it hard to keep the old faith unshaken?"
+
+"Not exactly.  The difficulty is to graft the new teaching on the old.
+We of the advanced school cannot stand still; we must progress."
+
+"And then comes the difficulty of putting new wine into old bottles."
+
+She glanced in the direction of the tent, and he knew that he had lost
+half her attention.  Wenaston was visible in the distance with Mrs.
+Greenford and Miss Stuart.  The sympathy that was so marked a
+characteristic in Eola had tempted the Hindu to say more than was his
+wont.  It was deflected from himself and turned towards the unnerved
+woman, whom she was charitably befriending.
+
+Mrs. Greenford was allowed no time to plunge into fresh tears and
+regrets.  She was prevailed upon to enter the car without delay.
+Wenaston gave his orders to the chauffeur and the motor glided from the
+field.
+
+"It is too early in the day to make gala shows of this aviation
+business.  An accident such as has just happened upsets the women with
+their highly strung nerves.  Even men feel it to be a bit of a shock,"
+remarked Wenaston, as he glanced round at the white faces of the
+spectators.
+
+"Anyway, women should not be present where there is a likelihood of
+accidents," replied Ananda.  "It seems to me that you Englishmen go to
+the opposite extreme from us.  We shut up women and overdo the purdah
+business.  You give them too much liberty."
+
+"My dear fellow!  They take it without asking our permission!"
+
+They were slowly moving towards the exit.  There was no need of haste
+as their train was not due to start for another half-hour, and the
+station was but ten minutes' walk.  Before Ananda could reply they were
+joined by two more Hindus.  In appearance these men were like Ananda,
+although there was no blood relationship between them.  Their
+complexions were of the wheaten tint that frequently goes with high
+caste and good birth.  They were equally well dressed in the latest
+English fashion, without extravagance or display.  To Wenaston they
+were well known, and he greeted them as old acquaintances.
+
+"The show is at an end, Dr. Wenaston.  It is reported that the poor
+fellow is dead.  It only remains for us to go back to town," said one
+who was called Bopaul by his friends.
+
+"I am sorry it has ended fatally.  I suppose every new scientific
+venture must have its victims.  The claims of aviation will be every
+whit as heavy as were the claims of steam and electricity," responded
+Wenaston.
+
+"The death dues of the gods!" murmured the other, known as Coomara.
+
+Bopaul laughed lightly but Ananda turned a pair of serious eyes upon
+Wenaston.
+
+"You don't believe that the higher power ruling our destinies requires
+to be propitiated by a holocaust of victims, do you?" he asked.
+
+"Certainly not.  Accidents occur through the imperfection of machines;
+and with each accident it is only natural that an important step is
+made towards a more perfect knowledge."
+
+"Exactly so," rejoined Coomara, eagerly.  "In return for a life, the
+Fountain of all knowledge in his justice and rectitude gives knowledge."
+
+"Life is not demanded in exchange or in payment for knowledge,"
+objected Wenaston.  "Knowledge might be acquired without loss of life
+if men were more careful and less rash.  The death of the experimenter
+is due to his own ignorance, to his rashness, or to the imperfection of
+the machine in its inception."
+
+"You do not believe that it is the direct act of God?"
+
+Wenaston did not reply.  They were threading their way through the
+crowd that had gathered near the exit of the field, and conversation
+was not easy.  On all sides they heard comments upon the accident.
+Regrets were expressed freely that the new cult had lost one of its
+cleverest pioneers.  His death--by this time it was known that the
+fallen aviator had breathed his last even as they carried him from the
+field--his death was sad from every point of view.  He was a good, a
+thoroughly good fellow; clever beyond most men.  Married? no; but there
+was a girl--he was living at home with his people, and he was going to
+be married shortly.  Money?  Oh yes, plenty, or he could not have
+experimented as he did.  And the cause of the accident?  Ignorance of
+air currents and the power of the wind.  His wings were broken, and
+there was no hope from the very first of salvation.  Although he
+struggled with the machine he must have been aware that he had no
+chance of escape.  The next thing to invent must be some life-saving
+apparatus.
+
+Among their acquaintances the three Hindus were spoken of as A, B, and
+C; or as Ananda, Bopaul, and Coomara.  In addition to these names they
+possessed others unfamiliar to the English ear and difficult of
+pronunciation.  The men were of good birth and high caste; they
+belonged to a native State south of Poona, called Chirakul, the chief
+town being Chirapore.  Under pressure of modern times the
+parents--people of substance and wealth--had sent their sons to Poona
+and Bombay to be educated.  Later on, arrangements were made for a
+visit to England.  It was due to the friendly offices of Wenaston that
+they entered the house of Dr. Twyford, professor of oriental languages.
+Their future was assured without the necessity of taking up any of the
+professions.  It was the intention of their parents to make homes for
+them under the ancestral roof, where they would lead the life of the
+leisured Hindu landowner.  If any occupation were adopted it would be
+of a political nature--some appointment of importance and trust under
+the Maharajah's Government.
+
+Although the three men were alike in dress, complexion and features,
+and belonged to the same caste, they were very dissimilar in character
+and temperament.
+
+Ananda was gentle and speculative.  His nerves were finely strung, and
+he shrank like a woman from physical pain and discomfort, and from
+anything that was of a rough and discordant nature.  The timidity of
+the Hindu peeped out on various occasions, a timidity that was not so
+much cowardice as an inbred loathing of coarseness and brutality.  The
+strong religious instinct, which seems to bring the Asiatic close to
+his strangely conceived deities in worship and propitiation, underlaid
+all his actions.
+
+In early youth he had been married to the sister of his friend Coomara.
+The marriage had been consummated, and there was a child, a son four
+years of age; and during his absence mother and son found a happy home
+with his parents.
+
+Bopaul was a fair specimen of the product of modern education.
+Untainted with disloyalty towards the ruling power, he was never likely
+to become a disciple of disaffection, and join with ambitious men of
+lower caste.  Aristocratic to his finger-tips, he believed in his
+Prince, and hoped to find a place on his council at some time in the
+future.
+
+By nature he was sunny and buoyant, taking life as he found it.  Eager
+to listen to the latest theories and ready to argue, he nevertheless
+proved elusive and disappointing to the serious propagandist.
+Tolerant, without being weak, courteous and even-tempered, he seemed to
+be flexible; but when it came to uprooting inherited beliefs, he proved
+immovable.  The casual observer accused him of flippancy and
+infidelity.  His host and guardian, Professor Twyford, knew better.
+
+"Bopaul is an extraordinary fellow," he used to say.  "I introduce him
+to all the latest theories, to all the facts most recently revealed by
+science; he receives them with intelligence and avidity, not to
+exchange new lamps for old, but to graft them on to the old Hindu
+stock.  I can understand when I look at Bopaul the wonderful
+receptivity of the Hindu nature.  It has preserved the caste system for
+the last three thousand years, a unique survival that has no equal in
+the history of the world.  The Hindus absorb and orientalise theories
+that ought to deal their social and religious system a death blow.  I
+can see Bopaul fitting the latest and most revolutionary ideas into
+niches in his mind without permitting any conflict with the tenets of
+his ancient faith.  He is a very interesting character."
+
+Coomara was unlike either of his companions.  He held to the letter of
+his faith; listened courteously but without interest to modern
+teaching; wherever it clashed with the teaching of the Vedas, he
+rejected it as being incompatible, and therefore useless to himself.
+He refused to discuss the subject of religious differences.  It was
+waste of time if nothing else.  When he first fell under the influence
+of the professor he showed a disinclination to speak on religion at
+all.  Gradually he gained confidence as he discovered that Twyford had
+no design of converting him to the Christian faith, and became more
+communicative.  Somewhat to his astonishment he learned that the
+Englishman possessed a greater and more intimate knowledge of the
+sacred books of his nation than himself.  As his confidence
+strengthened, he became more communicative and less afraid of listening
+to other doctrines.
+
+Coomara had been married to Bopaul's sister when he was ten years old;
+hence the link that bound the three men together.  The period of exile
+appointed by their respective parents was within a few months of its
+termination, and they were looking forward to their return to Chirakul,
+when the ceremonies necessary to restore their caste would be performed
+and Coomara's wedding be completed; for his marriage had been
+practically only a betrothal from the European point of view.  The
+honeymoon had yet to be spent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+The run to London by the express was to occupy an hour.  As Wenaston
+and his companions entered the station the train stood ready by the
+platform.  There was a rush for the carriages, and before they could
+make their way to a first-class smoker, every seat was occupied.  A
+number of people were in the same case as themselves, being unable to
+find places.  He stopped an official and asked when the next train
+would start.
+
+"A duplicate will be put on as soon as this has been sent off.  There
+will be plenty of room in that, sir."
+
+A quarter of an hour later they were comfortably seated in a
+compartment which they had to themselves.  The train ran smoothly and
+conversation was possible.  The Englishman alone smoked.  To the
+high-caste Hindu the replacing of the cigar in the mouth after it has
+touched the tongue and lips is an offence against caste.  The men had
+no objection, however, to the smoke made by another.
+
+"I suppose there was no doubt about the man being dead?" said Ananda,
+as they again discussed the event of the day.
+
+"None whatever," replied Bopaul.  "I heard it announced by a member of
+the committee, who gave it out as a reason for stopping all further
+aviation.  The competitions were over, and the programme completed.
+The man was only marking time, so to speak, just to keep the people
+amused."
+
+"He offered to do it, I heard," remarked Ananda.
+
+"With the wind increasing he ought not to have been allowed to take
+such a risk," said Wenaston.  "It is waste of life to hurl a man into
+eternity for such a trivial reason."
+
+"Hurl a man into eternity," repeated Ananda slowly, his dreamy eyes
+fixed upon the speaker.
+
+"Oh, well; that's just a way of talking.  I meant the life after
+death," replied Wenaston, slightly taken aback.
+
+"The life?  You don't mean re-incarnation; trans-migration is not one
+of your doctrines of belief.  You mean life elsewhere?"
+
+"Yes, in the future--in another world."
+
+"Do you really believe that you will have a personality--that you can
+retain the _ego_ that is in you now--when you enter any other world but
+this?"
+
+"I hope so.  We are taught by our religion that something of the sort
+is to take place.  What is your belief?" asked Wenaston, turning the
+conversation on to Hinduism.  Before Ananda could reply, Coomara,
+assertive in the stronghold of his steadfast faith, spoke.
+
+"We believe that after a long succession of rebirths on this earth we
+shall be absorbed in the Deity."
+
+Wenaston did not reply, and Coomara explained thinking that the
+Englishman had not understood.
+
+"--the great impersonal Brahma, the origin of all things, the Spirit
+that your Bible says brooded on the face of the waters when the world
+was without form."
+
+"You can't expect any positive happiness in such a state," objected
+Wenaston.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"How can you hope for positive happiness if you are impersonal yourself
+and forming part of an impersonal Deity?"
+
+"There is no reason why we should not enjoy a state or condition of
+happiness if the Deity so willed it."
+
+Wenaston avoided the exceedingly difficult question of impersonality
+and exercise of the Divine will; and turned the conversation to a
+subject that was directly and humanly personal.
+
+"Then if you were killed suddenly like that aviator, you would die in
+the comfortable assurance that you would join your God and become part
+of Him."
+
+Somewhat to his surprise there was no reply.  He glanced round at his
+companions under the impression that they had tired of the topic, and
+were no longer interested.  The expression of their faces did not
+confirm this idea.  Coomara's eyes were averted, but Ananda's were
+fixed upon the speaker; and in their depths lurked a shadow of fear
+that Wenaston could not fathom.  He turned to the half-closed window.
+The wind had increased and the threatened storm of rain had begun.  It
+was coming down in driving sheets that beat against the glass and
+obliterated the landscape.
+
+"We are going to have a stormy night; this is not a shower," he
+remarked, as he drew up the window and closed it completely.
+
+It was Bopaul who broke the silence.  The seriousness of the subject
+had no effect on him.  On the contrary, Wenaston thought he detected an
+undercurrent of amusement in his tone.
+
+"Our future life depends on the circumstances surrounding death.  The
+attainment of everlasting happiness would by no means fall to our lot,
+I am afraid.  It is more likely that we individually would be overtaken
+by punishment."
+
+"You have no hell to fear," replied Wenaston.
+
+"We need not fear the hell described by the teachers of your religion;
+but we have an equivalent.  It lies in our transmigration doctrine.
+Rebirth on earth as some inferior creature is our hell; existence as a
+horse, a dhoby-donkey, a rat, a loathsome pariah, a dog or a reptile
+according to the heinousness of our sins."
+
+Bopaul smiled grimly as he caught the expression on the faces of
+Coomara and Ananda.  The latter could not conceal his horror at the
+contemplation of an existence in a lower birth, where pain and
+servitude, he believed, would crush out every joy of life.  His
+sensitive nature revolted against the thought of the indignities and
+sufferings such a birth must involve.  Coomara's fatalism saved him in
+some degree from the dread that overwhelmed Ananda.  If he were
+destined to a succession of inferior births it would be impossible to
+avoid them.  The inevitable must be faced.  As well might a man try to
+draw the sun down from its place in the heavens and stop its course as
+to endeavour to upset the law of destiny.
+
+"It certainly sounds appalling," commented Wenaston.
+
+"Such a fate is as much dreaded by the orthodox Hindu as the fate
+believed by Christians to be the portion of malefactors after death,"
+said Bopaul, without hesitation.
+
+"Then you must take care never to offend your Deity," remarked Wenaston.
+
+"Our code of offence is different from yours.  We have no decalogue.  I
+may commit murder, for instance, without offence, if I kill a pariah or
+an out-caste; but if the victim of my enmity happened to be a Brahman,
+the aspect of the deed would be utterly changed.  The sin would be
+enormous.  Nothing short of a cycle of inferior births could reinstate
+me and restore me to the position I occupy at the present time."
+
+"None of you are likely to kill a Brahman, I imagine," said Wenaston
+lightly, and with the design of dissipating a little of the solemnity
+that seemed to have settled upon Coomara and Ananda.
+
+His well-meant efforts were unavailing.  It was evident that so serious
+a subject was not to be dismissed in a moment.
+
+"There are other ways of transgressing, which, if persisted in, bring
+down upon us the curse of inferior rebirth," said Bopaul.
+"Carelessness and neglect in the performance of our religious duties.
+Manu, the law-giver, himself defines sin in clear, unmistakeable terms.
+We can transgress by neglecting to read the Vedas; by falling away from
+prescribed customs; by remissness in the performance of holy rites.  In
+addition, offences may come through using a wrong diet and omitting
+ceremonial ablutions and prayers.  In short, our sins chiefly consist
+of the breaking of our caste rules by omission or commission."
+
+"Your code is simple enough if you have it all laid down by your
+law-giver.  All you have to do is to take care not to break your
+rules," observed Wenaston, ignoring a fact that he was well aware of.
+
+The conversation had gone beyond the limits of light inconsequent talk;
+and he was watching for an opportunity to express his views courteously
+and without giving offence on caste and the absurdity of clinging to a
+belief in rigid ceremonial.  By profession he was an educationalist.
+Without any intention of proselytising it came naturally to him to
+combat beliefs that he considered to be obsolete and obstructive to
+progress of thought.  He had started the conversation simply to pass
+the time as they travelled.  He continued it that he might tilt without
+offence at that which he took to be the greatest obstacle to the
+advancement of education among the Hindus.  His words were not without
+effect.  It was Bopaul who ventured to speak out and declare what was
+in the mind of all three.
+
+"In our case we have broken the rules of caste, and broken them badly.
+The journey to England alone involves a rupture of a serious nature."
+
+Ananda wore an expression of anxiety that he did not attempt to hide.
+It was true.  From the Hindu point of view he was living in sin.  He
+had not only offended against the order of his caste in crossing the
+sea; but every day that was passed in the foreign country was a
+continuance of sin.  The sense of sin lay heavy on his conscience and
+at times weighed him down to the verge of nervous melancholy.  Under
+its influence he had, soon after his arrival in England, written an
+urgent letter to his father praying that he might be permitted to
+return and perform those purificatory rites which would remove the
+burden of offence.
+
+There was no possibility of escape as long as he remained in a foreign
+land.  The daily ablutions were but half performed; the daily worship
+of the household gods was omitted altogether for want of the necessary
+accessories--the metal image, the rice, camphor, sugar and ghee.  In
+the matter of diet there was dire offence in the preparation of his
+food; also in the method of partaking it.  Contamination was in the
+very shadow of the crowd that jostled him in his going and coming.  His
+appeal to his father met with no response.
+
+Resigning himself to his fate he did his best to become reconciled to
+his environment.  Occasionally he regarded the English men and women
+who surrounded him with something like envy.  They did not appear to be
+overshadowed by any gloomy apprehensions of the future.  Did they cover
+their fears and forebodings with a contentment that was assumed?  A few
+questions put to the Professor disabused his mind of that suspicion.
+They were as happy as they appeared to be, he was told.  Their creed
+reassured them and banished fear.  Christ, their great teacher, had
+given them definite promises in the Gospels that left them in no
+uncertainty.  The way was easy for any one who chose to follow it, and
+no man could complain that he was driven against his will into a state
+of sin and offence equivalent to that which troubled the exiled Hindu.
+Ananda, as he listened to the Professor, went so far as to envy the
+Christians their faith.  He had no intention of becoming a Christian,
+but there was undoubtedly relief for them in their immunity from the
+horrible dread of re-entering this world as a disgusting insect or a
+miserable beast of burden.  With eyes fixed eagerly upon Wenaston he
+listened for his comment on the situation.
+
+"You are the victims of circumstances over which you have no control.
+Your parents sent you to England without consulting your wishes.  Do
+you really believe that their action has caused you to sin and deprived
+you of your hope of heaven?"
+
+"Not our hope of the future," corrected Bopaul.  "When the offence is
+wiped out by propitiatory ceremonies we shall be restored to the favour
+of the gods."
+
+"What if you die before your return to India?"
+
+"Ah! then we die in sin, and the dreaded rebirth cannot be avoided; but
+we hope to escape such a catastrophe and to return safely to our
+country to perform the necessary expiatory ceremonies."
+
+"It is a monstrous belief!" cried Wenaston, moved in spite of himself
+as he glanced at Ananda overshadowed by fear, and at Coomara on whose
+countenance was written the hopeless resignation of the fatalist.  "It
+is incredible that a beneficent Deity can order a weary round of
+innumerable re-births in a lower instead of a higher existence, and
+condemn men to undergo this penance for deeds in which there is no evil
+intention; deeds for which they themselves are not responsible.  Even
+if you are fortunate enough at the end of unthinkable cycles of earthly
+existence to reach the limit, you can hope for nothing better than
+absorption in an impersonal Spirit.  To my mind such a fate is little
+short of annihilation."
+
+He looked at Coomara, who, with eyes averted and lips firmly closed,
+listened to these heretical suggestions unmoved.  As Wenaston spoke,
+the Hindu moved his seat, slipping into the opposite corner near the
+other window.  It was his method of showing that he did not wish to
+take any further part in the conversation.  Bopaul was eager to
+continue it, and Ananda could not resist the fascination that heresy
+had for his inquiring nature.  None of them ventured to comment on the
+opinions just enunciated; and Wenaston continued.
+
+"The thought of the extinction of the ego in man is nothing less than
+appalling.  I know that there are certain men among our Western
+students who have entertained the idea; they honestly try to persuade
+themselves that they believe in the cessation of every kind of life
+after death; but I cannot credit them with faith in such a theory.  To
+begin with, extinction is not possible to the human understanding.  The
+scientist pronounces extinction to be unknown with matter.  There is
+mutation, disintegration, but never extinction.  We have every reason
+to believe that the spiritual law follows on the same lines as the law
+of material life, although the theory is not supported by any known
+law.  There is undoubtedly implanted in every soul the belief in a
+hereafter.  Your faith leads you to expect rebirth in this world.  Mine
+is immeasurably superior.  It transcends all earthly----"
+
+His words were suddenly cut short.  The carriage rocked on its wheels
+and lurched on one side, throwing its occupants forward with great
+violence.  A moment later a steel monster crashed through the
+panelling, rending the cushions and splintering the wood.
+
+On it came with horrible celerity, catching Coomara in the corner where
+he had just settled himself.  Before he could struggle out of its
+reach, it pinned him down with its full weight.
+
+A cry that was stifled into a groan escaped his lips as the horrible
+buffer crushed the life out of his fragile body; Coomara the orthodox
+went to meet his fate, whatever it might be; the relentless cycle of
+inferior rebirths or the peace that passeth all understanding promised
+by a loving and merciful God.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Coomara, the orthodox, the punctilious observer of caste rule and
+ceremony, was dead.  He had died in sin before the cleansing rites
+could be performed which alone could restore the purity of his birth
+and reinstate him in his caste.
+
+Bopaul, when he had recovered from the stunned condition into which the
+accident threw him, fell back upon the deadening doctrine of fatalism.
+It was destiny, and there was no escape.  All-powerful fate had
+ordained it; first, that they should miss the earlier train which
+reached its journey's end in safety; secondly, that Coomara should make
+a move to the opposite side of the carriage and seat himself on the
+very spot to which the buffer penetrated.  The rest of the occupants
+escaped with bruises and a few cuts from broken glass.  What else could
+have brought about the occurrence but the direct will of the gods?
+
+To Ananda the affair was a great shock.  His nervous system was
+completely upset.  The memory of the scene recurred again and again
+during the day and the night, depriving him of sleep and rest.  It was
+not only the loss of his friend and companion in exile that grieved
+him, but the appalling thought that the dead man had been thrust into a
+cycle of rebirths and existences wherein pain, sordidness and
+unspeakable degradation would be his lot; where beauty, joy and comfort
+would find no part.  At that very moment the troubled spirit might be
+entering upon its new life with groans and sighs in squalid
+environment.  He recalled Coomara's careful observance of everything
+that related to his religion; his dislike of all that was not strictly
+orthodox; his unwillingness even to listen to heretical teaching.  No
+man could be more innocent of intention in transgressing caste rule
+than Coomara.  With his sensitive temperament, his pride of birth and
+caste, none could feel his punishment in a greater degree.  Day and
+night Ananda brooded and sorrowed, uncomforted by the oft-repeated
+assurance of Bopaul that it was the inevitable decree of fate; and that
+what was written on a man's forehead by the gods could not be averted.
+
+The Professor observed his distress and was troubled.  It affected the
+health of his guest, causing his appetite to fail.  Sleep came
+fitfully; and rest during the day seemed well-nigh impossible, as
+Ananda paced the room or wandered up and down the garden without
+purpose.  Everything in the shape of study ended.  The books were
+opened and the Professor began to lecture; but he soon discovered that
+he failed to interest Bopaul, and that Ananda's thoughts had wandered
+far from the subject in hand.  Under the impression that the mind might
+be relieved by speech, he encouraged both to talk of the trouble that
+had overtaken them.  He listened seriously and with patience as Ananda
+propounded the doctrine of transmigration.  At the conclusion the
+Professor combatted it, repeating all the arguments against the theory.
+
+"It is monstrous to ascribe such cruelty to the Deity," he said.  "You
+admit that God is all-powerful.  Why cannot you give Him credit for
+beneficence?  You call Him the All-Father.  If He is a father, at least
+allow Him the attributes of a father."
+
+"How can He break His own rules?" cried Bopaul.  "It is laid down by
+Divine authority in the Vedas that certain consequences must follow
+certain deeds.  It is a common law of life all over the world.  You
+hang your murderer, regardless of his repentance.  Can you cleanse the
+hand of the murderer from the blood in which he has dipped it?  You
+yourself admit that as the tree falls so must it lie; the tree falls
+not by its will nor by its merit, but by fate."
+
+"Christ came into the world to give us a new law," said the Professor.
+"It is true that by the old Mosaic teaching we punish the murderer.  If
+he dies repentant, we have the promise of Christ made on the Cross that
+his sins will assuredly be forgiven.  To the crucified thief He said,
+'This day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise.'  He gave the promise
+almost with his last breath, and the man to whom it was made had sinned
+wilfully and with design.  Is it likely that they who have transgressed
+unintentionally will have to suffer with those whose hearts are
+hardened?"
+
+"The thief on the Cross was a Christian already, probably, and a
+follower of your Prophet," said Bopaul.
+
+"There is nothing to show that he had followed Christ, or been
+influenced by His teaching.  All that he knew was that his strange
+companion was branded with no crime.  If Christ could promise
+forgiveness--which meant immunity from punishment--to a wilful criminal
+who was neither baptized nor a follower, is it not believable that He
+could forgive and secure immunity from punishment to one like Coomara,
+whose life was humanly blameless?  Our God is all-powerful,
+all-embracing, just and loving.  Through His Son He shows mercy to all,
+regardless of race and religion."
+
+"Is He--is He--stronger than Brahma?" asked Ananda, in a low voice.
+
+"He is stronger and mightier than all the gods in the Universe,"
+declared the Professor, in ringing tones that almost carried
+conviction.  Even Bopaul, the trifler, was impressed.  He rose from his
+seat and strolled to the window.
+
+"Our guru would warn us that it was sinful to listen to the claims of
+any other God but our own."
+
+As he spoke he turned and looked at Ananda with warning in his eye.
+
+"He who refuses to listen is a coward," said Twyford.  "In these days
+of tolerance and freedom of thought, the student asks for liberty to
+probe and sound every doctrine that is presented.  He demands a wide
+field that he may view from all sides, weigh and measure the new with
+the old.  Above all, he requires to be told all that there is to be
+learned; for, without hearing the arguments for and against, no man is
+able to form a just opinion."
+
+"In that case the guru ought to be here to represent and defend his
+side of the argument," said Bopaul.
+
+"You have already learned all that he could teach you.  Your people
+sent you to England that you might hear more; that you might be made
+acquainted with every question that is agitating the western world of
+science, of politics and of religion."
+
+"Ah, well!" replied Bopaul, in a lighter and more careless tone.  "We
+are acquiring knowledge under you, sir; we can sift and compare without
+apostacy, I hope.  Come for a walk, Ananda.  The fresh air will clear
+away the cobwebs from our brains and make us more profitable pupils."
+
+The Professor's grey eyes, full of sympathy and friendliness, rested on
+Ananda in silence.  He did not say, "Go; the walk will do you good."
+Nor did he reach out his hand for pen or book, a sign that he was ready
+to return to his own studies.  He waited, leaning back in the revolving
+chair in front of his writing-table.
+
+"No, thanks; I would rather stay in-doors.  The noise and traffic of
+the streets----"
+
+"You will never conquer your nerves by keeping away from the outside
+world.  It will have to be faced sooner or later; the sooner the
+better," said Bopaul, as his hand touched the door.
+
+Ananda turned from the speaker to the silent Professor, and gathered
+strength from his steady gaze.
+
+"Don't wait, Bopaul; I am not going out this morning."
+
+With a lifting of the shoulders the other left the room, shifting
+responsibility on to the Englishman.  Silence was maintained for some
+seconds after his departure.  Ananda broke it.
+
+"If only I could believe that this endless cycle of rebirths need not
+be, I should be happier," he said.
+
+The pathetic appeal for some ray of hope went straight to Twyford's
+heart.  Pity and an intense desire to help in spiritual trouble roused
+the man, and he poured forth the doctrines of comfort that console the
+dying Christian.  It was not done with the intention of converting, but
+in the merciful desire of bringing some small consolation to the
+despairing man to whom the fear of the future made life in the present
+intolerable.  The fate that had overtaken Coomara might at any moment,
+whether at home or abroad, be Ananda's.
+
+For more than an hour they talked, and the gloom on Ananda's face
+lightened.
+
+"It is most comforting as you put it, but--it is not my creed," he
+said.  There was a pause, and he added, "I cannot change my faith."
+
+"I do not ask you to change it.  Is it not possible, however, in these
+days of advanced thought that you may be able to modify some of the
+fossilised tenets of your religion?  The spirit of reform is abroad,
+and a Hindu may become a member of the Brahmo-Somaj or the Ayra-Somaj
+without losing caste, without cutting himself adrift from his
+community, his family.  There is no hurry.  The fathers may rest
+content to think of these things.  Their sons will act."
+
+There was a sound of a footstep outside.  The door opened, and Bopaul
+appeared.
+
+"Lunch is ready, sir.  I am sure you must be tired talking so long.
+You should have driven that foolish Ananda out into the air and
+sunshine, instead of letting him waste your time."
+
+"I don't think that the time has been wasted," replied the Professor,
+kindly.
+
+Bopaul shot a swift glance at Ananda, but learned nothing except the
+fact that the latter was ill at ease under his scrutiny.  The lunch
+bell rang, and Ananda hurried to his room.  As he disappeared Bopaul
+said in a tone that was unusually earnest for him.
+
+"Sir, remember your promise to his parents.  Forgive me for reminding
+you of it.  I know his people, and what a terrible thing it will be for
+them if his faith is shaken.  He is their only son."
+
+"Believe me, I have not broken faith with them.  I have been preaching
+reform rather than conversion, although I admit that it would please me
+better if it had been the other way about.  Ananda must have led a very
+sheltered life in his youth, and this I fancy is his first great
+trouble.  He needs help, and it is difficult to give it under the
+peculiar circumstances in which I find myself."
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+The Professor was not far wrong when he said that Ananda's childhood
+had been sheltered.
+
+Born of wealthy parents and the only son, surrounded with every luxury
+that love could devise, he had been guarded from trouble of all kind.
+He, on his part, had been amenable to his parents' wishes, obedient and
+gentle, always ready to be guided.  Content to be ruled, his will power
+lay dormant, and there seemed little likelihood of it being roused into
+activity; for the desires of those whose authority he recognised never
+clashed with his own.  The life of his father, Pantulu Iyer, had been
+smooth, as is the case with many men of high caste families.  The life
+of the son promised to be the same.
+
+At the age of twelve he was married to Coomara's sister, three years
+his junior.  When he was seventeen the marriage was consummated, and
+the girl took up her residence with his parents.  It was a happy home,
+free from strife, and the daughter-in-law found no difficulty in
+fitting herself into her place.  She shared the love that the parents
+in the fullness of their affection showered upon their son.
+
+When Ananda was nineteen and Dorama, his wife, sixteen, she presented
+him with a son.  If anything could have been added to the cup of joy
+that was already full, it was this.
+
+"Now we are assured of the completion of our happiness and the
+fulfilment of our desire," said his father.  "We may allow ourselves to
+consider your future.  One day we hope to see you take a prominent part
+in the government of the country.  Possibly you may rise to occupy a
+place on the Maharajah's council.  These honours cannot be attained
+without a journey to England."
+
+"Is it necessary, my father?" asked Ananda, watching his young wife as
+she sat on the fine grass matting with the baby on her lap.  He would
+have been more than content to continue in the pleasant backwater of
+domestic life without seeking new scenes.
+
+"It is necessary in these days of progress.  His Highness himself takes
+occasional voyages across the ocean to see the western world with his
+own eyes."
+
+"His caste is not our caste," objected Ananda, with the unconscious
+superiority of a man of better birth.
+
+"Still, his example is to be imitated."
+
+"Not without loss of caste."
+
+"Caste can be restored on your return.  The penances and penalties are
+lighter than they used to be."
+
+"But the breaking of caste is none the less serious for the lightening
+of the penalties."
+
+"That may be," assented Pantulu.  "All the same, it is imperative in
+these days that men should see something of the world outside their own
+State; and there is no doubt that those who have travelled in Europe,
+and lived for a time in England, are preferred in the council to those
+who have had no experience.  Having thought the matter well over, my
+son, your mother and I have decided on this step.  You will sail from
+Bombay in April next; and it is proposed by their families to send
+Coomara and Bopaul with you."
+
+Ananda's father consulted with Wenaston, who had recently been
+appointed as Principal of the large college at Chirapore, as to the
+best place of residence in London; with the result that the three
+Hindus found themselves committed to the care of Professor Twyford.
+
+Bopaul had no qualms over his broken caste.  He accepted the decree of
+exile with pleasure, and determined to make the most of his
+opportunities.  He intended to amuse himself as well as read with the
+Professor; and he carried out his programme, the only shadow to cross
+his path later being the death of Coomara.
+
+Shortly before they left for England, the guru paid them a visit.  The
+Vedas were quoted and the laws of Manu repeated with many warnings
+against falling away from the faith.
+
+"You are going to a foreign land, the home of revolutionary teaching.
+Be careful how you listen, and let no one undermine the instructions
+that I with divine authority have given you.  Attempts will be made;
+you must resist them.  Here in this State of Chirakul we still enjoy
+the great boon of an hereditary ruler.  Under his government we have
+successfully repelled the innovations that have been introduced into
+British India.  If fate should decree that any of you enter the service
+of our Maharajah, it will rest with you to help to preserve our ancient
+faith."
+
+Coomara looked up at the tall figure that stood before him, and his
+glance fell beneath the fiery eyes.  He dropped at the feet of the
+teacher and pressed his forehead to the ground with words of worship
+and adoration such as might have been addressed to the Deity.  In his
+eyes the guru was God Himself, neither His messenger nor prophet; and
+as such he bowed himself in deep humility and worshipped.  As he lay
+there a voice like the voice of a god reached him.
+
+"My son, I do not forbid your ears to listen nor your eyes to see.
+What you hear and see will be of use in the work you will have to do on
+your return.  A knowledge of the enemy is necessary to success."
+
+"What work, oh swami?  May thy servant know?"
+
+"The preservation of our great religion, the emancipation of our
+country, the elevation of our nation; the casting out of a race of
+demons who would have us believe that they are spirits of light.  May
+they be accursed with their Christ!"
+
+He broke into imprecations against the supreme power that claimed
+sovereignty over the Maharajah of Chirakul and against the Founder of
+the Christian faith.
+
+"Swami, is it your decree that I should take this voyage across the
+black water--that I should break my caste?"
+
+"Only by going to England can you ever hope to rise to a position
+wherein you may help the cause that we have at heart."
+
+"And if I die in that foreign land, swami?"
+
+"You will be born again to suffering and degradation," said the
+inexorable voice.
+
+"Swami, swami!  Let me stay in my father's house."
+
+"It cannot be.  It is the will of the gods!" replied the guru.  "My
+son," he added, in softer accents, "be not afraid.  You will return in
+safety to help the cause we have at heart and be blessed by the holy
+Brahmans."
+
+Ananda and Bopaul heard the words and remembered them afterwards.  "You
+will be born again to toil and suffering and degradation."
+
+And they believed them; for had they not been spoken by the guru, in
+whom dwelt the divine afflatus?
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+Dr. Wenaston shortened his stay in town after the accident, and
+cancelled his social engagements.  The death of Coomara affected him,
+though in a lesser degree.  He developed an aversion to public
+gatherings and to the assemblage of a crowd in street or train or on
+the field of sport.  A vague feeling of apprehension destroyed his
+pleasure, and he recognised with dismay that he, too, was suffering
+from nerves.
+
+There was only one remedy, and that was to seek comparative solitude
+for a while until the nervous system should recover its equilibrium.
+
+His sister suggested a leisurely motor trip into the depths of the
+country.  They could choose their road and regulate their pace to
+please themselves.
+
+They wandered through the south and west of England, fortunate in their
+weather and choice of route.  When it suited them they remained at a
+quiet little seaside place for a week or two; or in a still more sleepy
+country town, with the happy result that Wenaston entirely recovered
+his health mentally and bodily.
+
+The summer passed and he sent his sister home to make her preparation
+for the voyage to India, while he went to his club for the same object.
+He had not seen the Professor since he led Ananda and Bopaul back to
+his house in dazed and prostrate condition on that memorable afternoon,
+and had told the story of the accident.
+
+On his arrival in town he wrote to Mrs. Twyford, saying that he would
+come to lunch on the following Sunday.
+
+It was one of those bright autumn days, when the sun touched every
+object with a golden light.  Even the city of smoke and fog was
+rendered beautiful in its dress of grey and gold.  The streets,
+thronged on week-day with traffic, were empty except during the
+half-hour before service.  Church-bells rang out their call in all
+directions, summoning their eclectic congregations to the morning
+services.  The sound of the great cathedral chimes dominated them all.
+
+Wenaston stood for a minute or two on the steps of St. Paul's
+listening, that he might retain the echo in his ears and carry it away
+into exile.  Temple-bells might clang around him, and the
+ding-ding-ding of the Christian Church bell call him on Sunday; but
+nowhere throughout the East would a melody like that sent forth from
+the dome of St. Paul's ever ring in his ear.
+
+He entered the cathedral and moved swiftly up the centre aisle.  The
+space under the dome was filling fast.  He turned to the right and
+found a seat near the pulpit.
+
+The chimes ceased, and the big bell monotoned the final invitation to
+the increasing crowd.  Before it stopped the organ pealed forth the
+first chords of the voluntary.
+
+If the truth is to be recorded, Wenaston had not gone to church with
+any conscious desire to humble himself in prayer, nor to lift his soul
+to God in praise.  The melody of the choir succeeded the song of the
+bells.  He listened passively, revelling in the perfect harmony and
+abandoning himself to the soothing, almost sensuous feeling of peace
+and contentment brought by the music and environment.  He knelt and
+stood, following mechanically the example of his neighbours; and when
+the organ ceased and the preacher entered the pulpit, he rested
+motionless in his chair, yielding himself to the luxury of the
+sensations that had been roused by the music.
+
+At the conclusion of the sermon, eager for more of that which so soon
+would be unattainable, he determined to remain to the end of the
+service.  A large number of people left the cathedral, and he moved up
+nearer to the choir, with the object of securing a better seat, but
+with no intention of communicating.
+
+When the departing congregation had cleared away, his eyes were drawn
+towards a kneeling figure in front.  Something in its outline was
+familiar.  The head, with short abundant black hair, was bowed in
+silent prayer.  The worshipper was no idle visitor; nor had he come to
+have his ears tickled or his senses steeped in superb harmonies.  The
+music that echoed through arch and aisle was unheeded in the effort to
+raise the spirit to God.  The man was there to pray, and his prayerful
+attitude was unchanged until the first chords of the _Gloria_ were
+struck.  As prayer passed into a glorious song of praise, the
+worshipper lifted his head and Wenaston caught a glimpse of the
+features.  Astounded beyond measure--he could not have explained
+why--he recognised Ananda.
+
+When the service ended he rose, and allowing the Hindu to pass out
+before him, caught him up at the west door.  Ananda's eyes were not
+upon the crowd that jostled him, and he did not observe Wenaston's
+presence.  In their dark depths shone the light of a great happiness
+mingled with that exaltation which may be seen in the eyes of the
+convert.  Wenaston's surprise was not lessened as he noted it.
+
+"You!  Ananda!"
+
+The Hindu turned at once and held out his hand.
+
+"Dr. Wenaston!  We thought that you were still in the south of England!"
+
+"I have been there; but my leave is getting short, and I have come to
+town to prepare for my journey back to India.  Mrs. Twyford did not
+tell you that I am to lunch with you all to-day?"
+
+"She said nothing about it."
+
+Wenaston gazed at him with searching eyes.
+
+"How is it that I find you in St. Paul's?" he asked, adding as an
+after-thought.  "And not as a spectator."
+
+"Because I have taken a momentous step.  I have become a Christian."
+
+"Is this the Professor's doing?" asked Wenaston, after a slight pause.
+
+"No," replied Ananda, readily.  "The Professor had nothing to do with
+my act."
+
+"Tell me about it."
+
+They walked along the deserted city streets where a few well-dressed
+folk were strolling and an occasional omnibus rolled noisily by.
+
+"After Coomara's death I was very much troubled.  I could not bear to
+think of his fate.  Sometimes I was overwhelmed with grief on his
+account; sometimes I was beside myself with terror on my own, lest a
+like fate should overtake me.  It became more than I could bear.  The
+Professor was very kind.  He tried to console me with some of his own
+doctrines, and suggested that I should draw comfort from them without
+necessarily adopting Christianity.  As you know, it was one of the
+conditions imposed by my father on the Professor that there should be
+no attempt on his part at proselytising.  Being an honourable man, he
+kept faith with my father."
+
+"How did it come about, then?"
+
+"A curious thing happened.  One of the English students living in the
+house introduced me to the mother and sister of the aviator who was
+killed that day.  In my grief and trouble over Coomara's fate I had
+almost forgotten the accident.  I spoke to them about it, and told them
+of my own sorrow.  They were goodness itself.  To my astonishment I saw
+that they were bearing their grief with a resignation that put me to
+shame.  It was their belief--their unshaken faith in the future that
+gave them strength.  They were so sure, so certain that their beloved
+one was safe with God and happier than he could ever be on earth.  I
+marvelled at their peace of mind, and asked myself why I should not
+share it.  Sorrow had made them very tender towards the trouble of
+others.  In short, it was through them that I changed my religion.
+They introduced me to their vicar.  Unknown to the Professor, I put
+myself under instruction, and three weeks ago I was baptized."
+
+"Without consulting your guardian?"
+
+"Without his knowledge.  He knows now.  I did not wish to compromise
+him, and I begged my friends to keep my secret until I was baptized.  I
+am of age, and can please myself."
+
+He looked up at Wenaston, as if to hear what he had to say, and whether
+he approved.
+
+"You ought to have told Twyford."
+
+Ananda's hands were lifted in a little gesture of deprecation.
+
+"I was afraid, afraid of losing my new-found happiness.  I was afraid
+of opposition from Bopaul if he knew.  I was afraid lest the Professor
+should want me to write first to my father and obtain his consent.  I
+was afraid----"
+
+He paused, and Wenaston remarked with a gravity in which there was
+concern and doubt--
+
+"You may in truth say that you have taken a momentous step.  God give
+you strength to be no longer afraid."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Chirapore, the capital of the large native state of Chirakul was
+situated on plateau land.  In the months of March and April the
+thermometer rose above ninety degrees; but the rest of the year the
+climate was subtropical in character, and accounted cool as compared
+with the plains.
+
+The plateau was bounded on one side by hills--spurs of the Western
+Ghats--where the virgin forest nestled in the ravines and valleys, and
+big game wandered free and unmolested by the war of extermination that
+progressive man too often wages in his encroachment upon nature.
+
+Between the hills and Chirapore lay fields of grain and topes of fruit
+trees, the latter always green in the subtropical climate; there was a
+continual passing from seed-time to harvest, from flower to fruit
+without the paralysing inactivity induced by the hard winters of the
+temperate zone, or the fiery tropical summers of the torrid regions.
+
+The city itself was built upon undulating ground, its centre being the
+old fort.  Before British rule was established the inhabitants of
+Chirapore lived as near to the fort as was possible, seeking protection
+from the guns; but in later days, when there was no longer any fear of
+Mahratta horsemen, they ventured further afield, and the town was
+extended upon the smiling plateau in nobler lines.  Handsome roads
+lined with private houses or shops intersected the suburbs.  Many of
+the larger dwellings were older than the roads, and stood within their
+own grounds, a wall dividing them from the public way and ensuring the
+privacy essential to the happiness of caste families.
+
+It was in one of these substantial mansions that Ananda's father, known
+as Pantulu Iyer, lived.  It had belonged to the family for several
+generations.  In course of time Ananda would inherit it with the silk
+farms and looms by which Pantulu and his immediate ancestors had
+accumulated a considerable fortune.  As is usual with families of good
+caste and wealth, the members were numerous, including relatives of
+near and distant degree.  There was no lack of room for them in the
+large house; and many of them gave their services in the domestic work
+of cooking and housekeeping.
+
+Pantulu's wife, a woman of character, full of pride and caste
+prejudice, ruled the household with a firm but not unkind hand.  Her
+position was strengthened by the fact that she was her husband's first
+and only wife.  She had given him a son, and he was satisfied.  Ananda
+had fulfilled all their dearest expectations; and as has already been
+stated, the parents had sent him to England to complete an education
+that should eventually fit him for a post in the Maharajah's
+Government, an assistant-commissionership; and later, perhaps, a place
+on the Council.  To a father's ambition for his son there is no limit.
+Pantulu saw no reason why his son should not one day step into the
+Dewan's shoes should an opportunity occur.
+
+The time approached for the return of the son of the house.  News had
+been received of Coomara's death, but not a word had been said of the
+effect it had produced upon Ananda, nor of the grave consequences that
+had ensued.
+
+Bopaul, travelling with his friend, was careful to drop no hint.  He
+knew intuitively that the step Ananda had taken could not fail to rouse
+a disastrous storm.  Bopaul had a fastidious dislike to storms; and the
+longer the announcement of the change of religion could be deferred the
+better pleased he would be.  He was in no way responsible for the
+actions of the other; but it was possible that he might be drawn into
+the trouble that it must inevitably raise.
+
+During the voyage out the subject of Ananda's change of religion was
+not mentioned between the two friends.  Bopaul felt strongly that there
+was nothing to be said one way or the other.  The deed was done and
+could not be undone.  If the step had only been under contemplation and
+not irrevocably taken, he might have urged delay, consultation with the
+head of the family, consideration for the feelings of others besides
+himself.  It was too late for all that; therefore it was useless to
+discuss it, and he kept a discreet silence.
+
+Ananda attended the services held on Sunday for the benefit of the
+passengers and ship's officers.  No one spoke to him on the subject of
+religion or attempted to win his confidence.  His history was not known
+nor were his companions aware, with the exception of Bopaul, that he
+had accepted Christianity.  He followed the service reverently; and if
+any one troubled himself with conjectures, he probably came to the
+conclusion that the young man had received baptism.  For all that was
+known he might have been born a Christian.
+
+Bopaul glanced at the peaceful face of his friend when he rejoined him
+on deck after the service, and wondered if Ananda realised what was
+before him.  Of a nature inclined to shrink from any violent display of
+emotion, how would he meet the turbulent passions that would be roused
+in every member of his family as soon as the news was told.  Did he
+realise all that was involved?  He had been well instructed in the
+doctrines of Hinduism by his guru; and he had duly performed the
+various ceremonies prescribed at different periods of childhood and
+youth by the laws of his religion.  What thought was it that stirred in
+his mind as he leaned on the taffrail and looked pensively down at the
+seething white froth churned by the passage of the big ship through the
+waters of the Indian Ocean?
+
+Bopaul would have lifted his eyebrows in amused surprise could he have
+seen the figure that filled the mental vision of his friend.  It was
+none other than Dorama, the young wife to whom after a long absence he
+was returning.
+
+When the marriage took place bride and bridegroom were but children.
+The depths of their emotions were unruffled by the honeymoon which was
+spent, according to custom, three years later under the paternal roof.
+Two or three years of placid married life followed, during which Ananda
+was still absorbed in his studies, and Dorama was engaged in
+housewifely duties under the supervision of an autocratic
+mother-in-law, who was not unkind, but rigidly exacting, with no
+leaning whatever towards modern innovations.
+
+Then came the birth of the son.  Ananda found it a little difficult to
+believe that he had really attained the much-desired estate of
+paternity.  He let his eyes rest on the girl-mother and his child with
+wondrous delight.  The sight of them stirred him strangely, and awoke
+new longings that he did not understand.  Those longings were the
+instinctive desires of the animal man to claim his mate for himself;
+and to carry her and her baby to some remote fastness, where he could
+hide her from the swarms of relatives who in their joy seemed to think
+that she belonged to them rather than to him.  He wanted to gloat over
+her beauty, her wifehood and her motherhood, and to exult in sole
+possession.  What did it mean?  It almost awed him in its strength and
+insistence.  Surely he was not rebelling against the time-honoured
+custom of the family life!  He was not seeking to leave the home of his
+fathers!
+
+Then came the journey to England and the separation.  The underlying,
+scarcely recognised discontent vanished with the excitement of travel;
+but the memory of Dorama in her new character did not fade.  On the
+contrary, it grew clearer and more beautiful the longer he cherished
+it, gathering romance and raising the wife far above all other women.
+
+He determined that he would ask his father to give him a house of his
+own on his return with a suitable establishment over which his wife
+could rule.  The plan commended itself for more reasons than one.
+Since he had changed his religion and adopted many western habits as
+well, his parents, who were people of discernment, could not fail to
+understand the necessity for some such arrangement.  They might not
+like it; they might not be pleased that those western habits were
+adopted; they would assuredly disapprove of the change of religion; but
+when they comprehended that the changes had been effected to increase
+the comfort and happiness, spiritually as well as bodily, of their son,
+they would become reconciled.  In sending him to England they must have
+been aware of the risks he ran of assimilating the ideas of the people
+among whom he had to live in such close intimacy.  The doubts that
+troubled the keener-witted Bopaul did not therefore ruffle his
+serenity.  He had no forebodings of the thunder-clouds that were
+gathering.
+
+Pantulu, in company with Bopaul's father, went to Bombay to meet the
+mail boat.  They decided not to go on board, but to await the coming of
+the travellers on the landing-stage.  As Ananda and his companion
+stepped ashore with the throng of passengers the two men pressed
+forward.  The sons folded their hands in reverence, and then extended
+the right in the clasp that is general in these days all over the
+world.  The greeting attracted no attention, so quiet was it in its
+nature; but underneath the simple formalities lay a feeling too deep
+for words.  Later, when the luggage had been disposed of and they were
+in the privacy of their own sitting-room in the hotel, Ananda, who had
+been unusually silent, spoke.
+
+"I have something to say, my beloved and honourable father."
+
+At the words Bopaul sprang to his feet.
+
+"Come, sir," he said to his father, "we will leave his Excellency
+Pantulu Iyer with my friend Ananda to talk over their private
+affairs----"
+
+Before the older man could rise, Ananda said hastily--
+
+"Stop, Bopaul!  I wish you to remain and hear what I have to say.
+Possibly I may have to ask you to confirm my statement.  My father may
+otherwise find it difficult of belief."
+
+Bopaul reseated himself, looking ill at ease.  His father, influenced
+by a suddenly roused curiosity, which he had no scruples in satisfying,
+showed a disinclination to move.  The eyes of both parents were fixed
+in surprise upon the sons, and they waited breathless to hear what
+communication Ananda had to make to his father.
+
+Pantulu had removed his turban and replaced it by a velvet cap that
+covered his shaven head and the knot of hair on the crown.  He had
+drawn his feet up beneath him, and his thoughts, if they were occupied
+at all, were busy building up a gilded future, in which his son was the
+chief figure.  It took some seconds to detach his mind from his
+ambitious visions and concentrate it upon the fact that Ananda had
+something to say.  In his old-fashioned opinion, children listened; it
+was for the parents to speak.
+
+With mild astonishment he fixed his eyes upon his son.  No suspicion of
+the blow that was impending crossed his mind.  Doubtless Ananda was
+going to suggest an extension of the visit to Bombay that they might
+see a little of the Presidency town before going south.
+
+"My father, I hope that it will not trouble you to learn that during my
+residence in England I have adopted many of the ways of that country."
+
+"They will soon pass off, my son, when you return home and find
+yourself in the family once more.  It is well to have a knowledge
+now-a-days of western customs, many of which the Maharajah himself has
+adopted.  The time may come when you will often find yourself in his
+presence.  Your English experience will serve you well on those
+occasions."
+
+Ananda listened in silence without interrupting the speaker.  Bopaul
+showed more uneasiness, rising from his chair and moving restlessly
+about the room as though longing to escape.
+
+"I have learned to like the ways I have adopted--and the dress."
+
+Ananda glanced down at the neat frock coat and trousers that became his
+figure and set it off to advantage.
+
+"Our Maharajah wears the same kind of garments.  There is no reason why
+you should not retain the dress in public."
+
+"I intend to retain the dress and habits of English life," he replied
+with decision.  Then, after a slight pause that seemed to the listeners
+to be shadowed by some strange unknown danger, he continued: "But this
+is not all.  After much thought and deliberation I have also adopted
+the religion of England."
+
+A dead silence greeted this announcement.  Its full meaning did not
+immediately strike the listeners.  Bopaul glanced from one to the
+other.  The expression on the face of his own father held his
+attention.  It was a curious mixture of astonishment, dismay, and
+incredulity.  The jaw dropped; the eyes opened to their widest extent,
+and the brows were like two rainbows, so arched had they become.
+Bopaul had that insane desire to laugh which seizes men and women at a
+crisis fraught with possible disaster; he turned his back on the
+company to hide his trembling lips.  An inarticulate sound made him
+look round.  It came from his own parent, who struggled in vain to
+frame a question.
+
+Bopaul divined its import.  Was he, too, a renegade, a 'vert?  He
+controlled his lips and strangled his ill-timed mirth.  A sign in the
+negative set his father's mind at rest on that point, and enabled the
+older man to give his undivided attention to what was passing between
+Pantulu and his son.
+
+Pantulu, like his friend, had been struck dumb by the shock of Ananda's
+statement.  He moistened his lips, and after a few ineffectual attempts
+accomplished articulation.  His voice sounded strange and unlike his
+usual tone.
+
+"You have--adopted--the religion of--England, my son!  I fail to grasp
+your meaning!"
+
+"I have become a Christian."
+
+Ananda spoke clearly, but with a doggedness that seemed a little
+forced.  Under his calmness lurked timidity.  Bopaul detected it and
+again his lips quivered, this time with the ghost of a scornful smile.
+It required a magnificent courage and enormous endurance for a caste
+man to make such a change.  If he knew Ananda aright his friend had no
+great store of either courage or endurance.  His Christianity would
+soon be knocked out of him when the family had him back again in the
+old home away from foreign influences, unless he, Bopaul, was very much
+mistaken.
+
+Pantulu dropped his feet to the ground, raised himself by the arms of
+the lounge on which he was seated, and rose without haste to his full
+height.  The folds of his soft white muslin cloth fell over his lower
+limbs, the flowing drapery giving him an oriental dignity that was
+patriarchal.  He wore a dark-blue serge coat, a white shirt and linen
+collar, with tie to match the coat.  Everything was of the best quality
+and fitted his aristocratic well-made figure without fault.  On the
+little finger of his right hand shone a diamond of rare beauty, his
+only ornament.  The sparkle of the gem caught Ananda's eye as the hand
+was slightly raised in growing horror.
+
+"A Christian! a Christian!" he repeated.  Then lowering his hand he
+seemed to shake off the horror by an effort of will.  "I have not
+understood you, my son.  There is some mistake.  Whatever strange
+customs you may have thought fit to adopt during your stay in England,
+you must drop them now.  They have served their purpose, and they must
+be thrown aside like the strange weeds that as a child you gathered in
+the jungle, and cast upon the dust heap on your return before entering
+the house.  You have returned to the home of your fathers a Hindu, an
+orthodox Hindu, a Vishnuvite.  Even now at this moment the Swami, our
+guru, waits at our house in Chirapore to see the ceremonies performed
+that will restore your caste and purify you from the pollution of these
+western habits."
+
+The voice grew firmer until it rang out like a sharply-struck bell.
+Yet for all its firmness there was a strain of desperate entreaty
+running through it, as though the speaker waited in passionate hope for
+confirmation of his assertions.  That confirmation did not come.
+Ananda, as he stood before his father, shifted uneasily from one foot
+to the other; and as the elder ceased speaking he said falteringly--
+
+"No caste ceremonies will be required.  I have given up Hinduism.  I
+have been baptised and received into the English Church.  It is not
+necessary to look so serious over it, honoured father.  All that will
+be needed can be done without difficulty.  It will be advisable to give
+me a separate house and establishment for myself and my wife and son,
+since our presence will naturally create trouble for my mother in the
+preparation of food.  I am also prepared to find that many members of
+your household may demand my exclusion from the family circle."
+
+Ananda's even voice appeared to have a paralysing effect upon both the
+older men; for they were silent.  Bopaul's father was the first to find
+his tongue.
+
+"My friend, I am sorry for this.  It is an unspeakable misfortune."
+
+Pity, unsolicited and unexpected, and equally unwelcome, broke the
+spell and opened the floodgates of wrath.  Again the diamond flashed as
+the paternal hand was raised.
+
+"A Christian!  My son a cursed Christian! an outcaste! an alien! lower
+than the pariah, more loathed than the punchama sweeper!  Oh! what have
+I done that the gods should curse me thus?  What sin have I committed
+that I should be thus afflicted and punished?  My son! my only son!"
+Once more a desperate effort was made to reject, to disbelieve the
+terrible news.  "My little son!" he used the pet name by which Ananda
+had been known as a child, and it came from his lips with infinite
+tenderness.  "My little son! tell me you have but joked, and that you
+have been playing upon your poor old father's fears.  Be satisfied that
+you have startled and frightened him.  Now reassure him! restore him to
+happiness, my little son!  Be kind and tender in your strong young
+manhood to one who is growing old and whose life is bound up in yours."
+
+He placed his hands together, palm to palm, and bowed his proud head in
+humble entreaty.  Bopaul once more turned his back upon the company and
+strode towards one of the windows.  The sight of Pantulu's grief and
+distress pained him more than he cared to admit.  Ananda did not hear
+the appeal unmoved.  Tears sprang into his eyes, and he too averted his
+gaze from a sight that sent a sharp knife through his heart; but, like
+all weak natures, he possessed a strain of obstinacy that came now to
+his assistance.  Bopaul, who had more force of character, could not
+have listened to such an appeal from his father without wavering in his
+determination, no matter how great might have been his courage.  With
+Ananda it had a contrary effect.  It distressed and pained him beyond
+expression; but it strengthened rather than weakened his resolve, and
+created a desire to justify his action.  He answered firmly and
+decisively, and in that answer his father recognised the obstinacy of
+the perverse boy who so often succeeded in getting his own way in spite
+of his timid nature.
+
+"It is true.  I am a Christian, and I intend to remain a Christian.  I
+am sorry if it hurts you, my father; but I have arrived at man's estate
+and must judge for myself.  I have taken the step deliberately and with
+due thought and consideration."
+
+"This is the Professor's doing, him to whom I entrusted you!" cried
+Pantulu, his wrath rising hotly.
+
+"No, it is not!  The Professor had nothing to do with it!" replied
+Ananda, in a sharp, clear voice.  He turned to Bopaul, who was still
+standing with his back to them.  "Reassure my father on this point,
+please.  Had Professor Twyford or his family anything to do with the
+step I have taken?"
+
+"To the best of my belief, none.  He showed as much astonishment when
+you announced the change as I felt myself.  What was more, he was
+terribly disturbed by the news."
+
+Pantulu made no comment on this confirmation of his son's story, and
+Ananda began again.
+
+"It happened in this way----"
+
+"Silence!" thundered his father, in a voice that made them all start.
+"When the dhoby's donkey falls into the tank, does it bring him to life
+again to explain what caused his foot to slip?  Thou art cursed!
+cursed! cursed!  No longer shalt thou be a son of mine!  I am
+childless!  Go from my sight, and never let my eyes fall upon thee
+again!"
+
+He used the language usually addressed to inferiors, and it stung.
+
+"Let me explain, most excellent father----"
+
+"Call me not father, son of a dog!"
+
+"If you would only let me speak, I can----"
+
+"Sooner would I listen to the 'untouchable' who cleans the gutters and
+carries away the contents of the dustbin!  Go!"
+
+He moved towards him threateningly.  Ananda stepped back a pace or two,
+but did not show any sign of leaving the room.
+
+"It is not fair to judge any one unheard," he began again; but he was
+not allowed to finish the sentence.  Pantulu, beside himself with rage,
+advanced with uplifted hand and brought his fist down upon his son's
+face.  The diamond caught his lip and tore it open.  Blood flowed and
+dropped upon the white shirt-front, leaving a large red stain.
+
+Bopaul rushed forward, interposing himself between the two, and pushed
+his friend through the doorway leading to his bedroom.
+
+The outraged father glared after his son and panted out in gasps--
+
+"Never in the whole course of the boy's life have I laid a hand upon
+him.  What have I done!  What have I done!"
+
+He sank down into his chair and covered his face with his hands.  Joy,
+ambition, paternal pride, all had been extinguished, leaving him a
+broken and miserable man.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+For the past twelve months the family of Pantulu Iyer had been
+preparing for the return of the son and heir.  In the first place
+Gunga, Ananda's mother, had undertaken a pilgrimage to the large
+Vishnuvite temple at Srirungam, near Trichinopoly.  She was a proud
+woman, full of energy, just but strict in the performance of duties,
+religious as well as social.  She demanded of others the same rigid
+adherence to rule, and she countenanced no indulgence nor slackness in
+young or old among her dependents.  By her decree Dorama and her little
+son were to accompany her.
+
+The journey would have been easy by rail; but Pantulu's wife was not a
+woman to look for ease and comfort where ceremonial was concerned.  She
+chose the way of her ancestors and elected to travel by road as they
+had travelled in the old days before the fire-carriage revolutionised
+the Indian methods of journeying.
+
+It took many days, even though she used her own powerful bullocks.
+Besides the coach there was a country cart which carried the
+cooking-pots, bedding, and her own caste servants.  The people of the
+villages through which she passed inquired the name of the gracious
+lady who honoured their poor hamlet by her presence.  The reply was
+given by the drivers; she was the wife of a rich silk merchant of
+Chirapore, carrying offerings to the big temple at Srirungam.  Why did
+she make offerings?  Was her husband sick?  No; it was because her son
+who had been to England was returning, and she was anxious to enlist
+the favour of the gods so that he might be restored to her in safety.
+The country folk received the information with much salaaming, and
+expressed a hope that she would be favoured.  They supplied her with
+eggs and milk; and admired the fine handsome white cattle that drew her
+coach, praising the drooping ears and swinging dew-laps in loud tones
+that were intended to penetrate the curtains that hung before the
+windows of the carriage.
+
+At the big temple she was honourably received.  The gifts she brought
+were presented by her tiny grandson in the absence of any other male
+member of the family.
+
+The little Royan, named after his great-grandfather, was decked in
+purple velvet and crimson satin; and his small person was laden with
+jewels of gold and precious stones.  The soft baby hand, timidly
+extended to the awe-inspiring mahunt--who graciously deigned to receive
+the offerings in person--was weighed down by the solid gold lime
+resting on his palm.  The great man smiled as he stooped and received
+the substantial gift.  By the side of the child stood his grandmother,
+erect in her hale middle-age.  Her limbs had not yet lost the lines of
+a comely youth, nor the features their haughty beauty.
+
+Half hidden behind her was the smaller figure of Dorama, her eyes cast
+down, her rich silk cloth, plain in colour and pattern, veiling her
+lately-developed form.  The eyes of the mahunt dwelt upon her as he
+asked a few questions.  He learned that her husband was in England, and
+would be returning some time during the year.
+
+"She will rejoin him and give you another grandson to rejoice your
+heart," said the mahunt.
+
+"It may be so if the gods will," replied Gunga in a tone that seemed to
+dismiss the subject.
+
+"Should your hopes not be fulfilled you must make another pilgrimage to
+the temple, and she must keep vigil before the god.  It cannot fail to
+bring about the desired result."
+
+To this proposition the elder lady made no reply, and the mahunt
+retired, casting another glance of approval upon Dorama.
+
+After a few days' rest, Gunga returned as she went, making the journey
+by easy stages.  The nights were spent at the various rest-houses on
+the road, where her attendants cooked the food and saw to her comfort.
+She chose a time when the weather promised to be fine, and it did not
+disappoint her.  The expedition was a pleasant jaunt, which Dorama
+enjoyed more than a little.
+
+On her return home Gunga superintended other preparations considered
+necessary for the occasion.  The whole household--with all its
+dependents and caste servants numbering over fifty--had to be fitted
+out with new clothes.  The little close-fitting jackets of bright
+colours affected by the women were fashioned by careful tailors.  Men's
+coats of brilliant cloth, lined with silk and richly embroidered with
+gold, were put in hand.  New lengths of muslin of the finest quality
+were purchased after careful and deliberate bargaining; and many of the
+family jewels were reset.
+
+It was in these heirlooms that Dorama was most interested.  According
+to time-honoured custom among modest Hindu women, she had laid aside
+her jewels on her husband's departure; nor was she permitted to use the
+golden saffron powder that is supposed to enhance the beauty of the
+Indian skin.  With his return all restriction of self-adornment would
+end; and the finest and best of the jewels would be hung about her own
+neck and arms; and her smooth skin would gleam with powder that would
+match the newly-burnished gold.
+
+The tailors needed supervision; the working goldsmiths required
+individual watching.  A member of the family, usually one of the elder
+women, was told off to sit by his crucible and work-table whilst he
+plied his bellows and his delicate styles; and the half-finished
+ornament was carried home in the evening to be restored to the jeweller
+in the morning when the person in charge was able to resume her guard.
+
+Then there were the preparations that belonged to the kitchen, the
+chutneys, pickles, and preserves that would be required when the time
+arrived for feasting and feeding the poor Brahmans.
+
+Dorama assisted under her mother-in-law's directions, lending a hand
+here and there where special care was needed.  She was very silent; but
+beneath that silence was hidden a fire of emotions varied and deep that
+the others little dreamed of.  She thought of her wedding, long ago
+when she was but a child.  At the time the ceremonies had excited her
+wonder, and she had experienced a fearful pleasure in the thought that
+she was the centre of attention.  She remembered Ananda's smooth boyish
+face and his gentle acquiescence to all his parents' wishes.  He had
+glanced at his newly-made wife with childish curiosity, in which
+passion and desire found no place.
+
+Later the parents arranged a honeymoon for the young couple, to be
+spent under the paternal roof.  On her side, at least, there was
+nothing but distaste and fear, with not a little grief at having to
+leave her own home.  Then ensued a dull period when light household
+tasks instead of dolls and toys filled her life.  It ended in the birth
+of a son.  With the advent of the baby she was released from domestic
+work in the kitchen; and though she found that the wonderful living
+doll was not her exclusive property, but seemed to belong to the whole
+house as much as to her, existence had a new interest.
+
+Before she was sufficiently recovered to take her new place as the
+favoured young mother of a son in the family circle, Ananda departed.
+She remembered how he had knelt by her side and looked at the tiny
+baby, their joint property, with a kind of delighted surprise, as
+though he found it difficult to realise that the little crumpled olive
+ball of humanity was his own, his very own.  From his child his eyes
+went to his child's mother with a light in them that she had never seen
+there before.  She was no longer one of the mere goods and chattels of
+the house to help to minister to his appetite, feed him, keep his
+clothes in order and perform other duties that contributed to his
+comfort and well-being.  In giving him this son, who would one day call
+him by the name most highly prized throughout the land, she had done
+something purely personal, something exclusively for him; and in so
+doing she had endowed him with a delight and joy unknown before.
+
+It was impossible for him to express his gratitude in words.  The
+presence of his mother standing near with her dark, watchful eyes kept
+him silent.  He could only gaze from wife to child and then back again
+at his wife.  In his shining eyes, full of unspoken happiness, the girl
+might read what she pleased.  Even as he knelt by the mat on which she
+lay the new longing arose to possess, to enjoy, to claim his own, and
+carry his precious treasures away.
+
+The watching mother detected the emotion, and a twinge of jealousy
+caused her to stir uneasily.  She advanced and laid a hand upon his
+shoulder, her gold bracelets ringing as they fell together upon her
+wrist with the movement.
+
+"Come away, my son; she is still weak, and unable to bear a long
+farewell.  Be assured that we will keep her safe and sound till you
+return, her and her little son."
+
+Ananda bent lower over the recumbent figure, and his mother's brow
+contracted as she saw the motion.
+
+"Beloved! keep your heart warm for your absent husband," he whispered,
+as he kissed the beautiful mouth.
+
+Dorama, as a well-behaved married woman, should have shown no emotion
+beyond grief.  She should have received the kiss and the words in
+silence, allowing the eyelids to droop under his ardent gaze; but in
+these latter days of progress the orthodox Hindu feels the insensible
+breath of the new spirit, and yields to it without actually breaking
+away from the old rules.  That same spirit moved her to put her arms
+round his neck and to draw him down again till their lips touched a
+second time.
+
+"Do not be long, beloved.  The slave waits impatiently for her lord."
+
+"Come! come!  The carriage is ready, and his honour, your father, is
+impatient to be off," said the voice of his mother, as once more her
+hand rested on his shoulder.
+
+He rose to his feet and accompanied her without another word, turning
+once only to look back and smile at the eyes that followed him so
+wistfully.  Neither husband nor wife forgot the incident.  Every
+detail, every look and word were engraved upon their memories, and with
+this their aching hungry hearts had to be contented until they should
+meet again.
+
+As the time drew near for Ananda's return Dorama moved like one in a
+dream.  During the day she was abstracted and thoughtful, except when
+she was with her little son.  If by any chance she could carry him out
+of hearing of the other members of the family on pretence of giving him
+the air, she spoke of his father, pouring out the pent-up feeling in
+words, the meaning of which was beyond the child's comprehension.  It
+brought relief, although it did not allay the terrible longing.
+
+When the pink satin coat that Royan was to wear on his father's
+home-coming was finished, Dorama stole away to the little room she had
+shared with her husband, and slipped it on.  The boy's eyes sparkled
+with delight at the colour and sheen.
+
+"Your father is coming, blessed one!  Say 'Father, excellent father!
+Your son and slave throws himself before your honourable footsteps!'
+Say it!  Ah, good child!  It was well done!  Now again; and carry the
+hand to the forehead, thus!  Good, little one!  Mother's joy!"
+
+Suddenly the sound of Gunga's voice fell on her ear as some order was
+given in the distance to one of the dependents.
+
+"Ah! there is the grandmother!  Quick! take it off!  The coat is only
+to be worn in the presence of your father."
+
+She pulled it off, the child entering into the fun and excitement of
+doing something that must be hidden from the rigid mistress of the
+house.  When the coast was clear Dorama crept back, the coat hidden
+under her saree and her finger on her lips.  The purloined garment was
+replaced in the clothes chest without discovery, and the two, laughing
+like a couple of mischievous children, ran away in happy glee over
+their secret.
+
+At night she lay on her mat in the large room appropriated to the women
+of the household, wakeful with busy thought and anticipation.  The deep
+breathing and occasional snore of her companions told her that they
+slept soundly.  Then she ventured to move, to stretch her young limbs
+and sit up.  Her brain seemed on fire.  Would her mother give them
+again the little room; or would the son of the house be honoured by
+being assigned a larger and more important chamber?  Would he be
+altered in any way?  Possibly he had grown older in appearance,
+stronger in limb, more manly.  How the women of England must have
+admired him!  Hateful creatures!  She detested English women!  What was
+there to admire in them?  They were blocks of ice with hard, cold,
+white skins and unkind eyes.  She had never seen them except in the
+streets as they drove past in carriages or motors; but she was quite
+convinced that she read their characters aright, and that her opinion
+of them was correct.
+
+She heard the cocks crowing as they marked the progress of the night.
+In the midst of her musings she fell asleep, and dreamed that he had
+come, that he leaned over her in greeting as he had leaned in parting,
+and that their lips met once more.
+
+Among other preparations was the painting and decoration of the house.
+As the time approached Venetian masts were erected and wreaths
+suspended the length of the road in which they lived.  Bunches of
+leaves and flowers were tied to the beams of the house, and whole
+plantain trees bearing their large clusters of golden fruit were
+fastened to every pillar.
+
+Then the guru with his disciple arrived, and the purohit from the
+temple, to superintend the ceremonies that were necessary for the
+restoration of caste.  Gunga, in the absence of her husband in Bombay,
+gave the holy men a welcome, and saw that nothing was omitted that was
+conducive to their comfort.
+
+As the time drew near the whole household felt the thrill of
+expectation that never fails to move a family when one of its members
+is expected home after a long sojourn in foreign lands.  What news
+there would be to hear, and to tell!  The traveller would bring gifts
+for all.  No one would be forgotten.
+
+One morning a post peon appeared carrying a telegram.  It was addressed
+to Pantulu's brother, Sooba, the little master, as he was called; and
+it announced that the ship had come in safely and that the passengers
+would land that afternoon.
+
+"Is there anything in the telegram about the time they will leave
+Bombay?" asked the guru's attendant, as he waited to carry news to the
+great man.  Gunga handed him the message in its brown envelope.  Ten
+minutes later he returned.
+
+"The master says that they will start to-morrow probably, either by the
+morning or evening mail, according to the time it takes to clear the
+luggage through the custom house."
+
+The guru was well versed in matters temporal as well as spiritual.
+
+"When may we expect them?" asked Gunga.
+
+"It takes two nights and a day to travel from Bombay to Chirapore,"
+replied the disciple.  "If they leave to-morrow night they will be here
+on Wednesday morning."
+
+"The day before the new moon!  Not a lucky day to be travelling south,"
+remarked Gunga, with a troubled expression upon her face.  "If my
+husband remembers to go out of the house in which he is staying by a
+north door, the bad luck may be averted."
+
+"He will surely think of it," observed the disciple, whose life was
+occupied in the consideration of omens.
+
+"In the joy of meeting his son it is quite possible that it may be
+forgotten.  I know that my lord will be nearly beside himself with
+delight at seeing his boy again, his only child!" she added softly,
+with a tenderness that she rarely exhibited.
+
+That same afternoon a second telegram was received.  It said "Disperse
+guests.  Discontinue preparations for feasting and rejoicing."
+
+Gunga listened speechless as her brother-in-law read it aloud.
+
+"Again," she commanded.
+
+He read it a second and a third time.
+
+"Is there nothing about illness?  Is no reason given for these strange
+orders?"
+
+"None, most honourable mother of my brother's family."
+
+"Call his excellency, the swami."
+
+The guru, full of curiosity, came at the summons without delay.  He
+read the message more than once, but was unable to throw any more light
+upon its meaning.
+
+"A letter will come with full explanations," he said at last.  "Until
+its arrival the directions of the master of the house must be carried
+out.  My disciple shall tell the company of beggars who are already
+assembling that there will be no feasting.  He had better give them an
+anna apiece, which you will provide, and say that they will be called
+together again on the arrival of the master."
+
+"What can be the cause of this change?" asked Gunga, her dark eyes
+fixed with a questioning gaze upon the guru.
+
+"Illness, perhaps, or an accident."
+
+"My son is not dead!" she cried in sudden terror.
+
+"No, that cannot be; nor can there be any dangerous illness.  It is
+possible that your son may have missed his ship, in which case he will
+arrive by the next mail boat a week later.  We shall learn in time.
+Meanwhile, I will go on my way to another house, where my presence is
+needed, and will hold myself in readiness to return a fortnight hence."
+
+Pantulu's wife felt slightly relieved by the suggestion that her son
+might be coming a week later.  It was better than entertaining the fear
+that he was ill or even dead.  She accepted the situation, and set
+about carrying out her husband's directions at once.  The new clothes
+were packed away in camphor-wood boxes; the pickles and preserves were
+tied down and put in the storeroom.  The women were ordered to cease
+grinding curry-stuffs and pounding rice.  The busy household dropped
+into sudden inaction, and an unnatural silence reigned everywhere.  The
+women spoke in whispers, and the men betook themselves to the bazaar,
+or to the houses of their fellow-caste people, where they discussed the
+ominous message from Bombay without fear of being overheard by the
+stern woman who ruled the family.
+
+Dorama with the rest had listened as the telegram was read out.  Every
+word of it was engraven upon her brain.  She went over it again and
+again, puzzling herself to find a reason for the strange mandate.  If
+Ananda had missed his ship surely his father would have said so.  On
+the other hand, if there was illness or an accident to cause delay, it
+might easily have been told in a few words.  Some mystery lay beneath
+it.  What could it be?  Had Ananda lost his senses and become mad with
+the joy of his home-coming?  She had known cases of temporary loss of
+the senses through excessive joy or grief.
+
+The child plucked at her saree, jealous of her abstraction.  She caught
+him up and crushed his soft little body to her heart.
+
+"Thus and thus will thy father hug thee and me, my son, when he comes!"
+
+The boy, irritated at being roughly handled, beat at her with his small
+fists.
+
+"Thus and thus will I beat my father if he hurts me like that.  Let me
+go, or I will ask him to find me another mother."
+
+The senseless words fell upon her ear with strange force.  What was it
+the child said?  Another mother!  Could it be possible that her husband
+had forgotten her in that foreign country, where he had lived so long?
+Was he bringing home another wife? a white woman, a hated European?
+No, no!  It was impossible!
+
+With a stifled cry she set the child down on his feet, and he seized
+the opportunity of escaping to the kitchen, the spot he loved best.
+She was left alone, and no one heeded her; they were all too busy
+discussing the mystery of the message and attempting to discover its
+solution.  Suddenly she dropped to the ground, crouching as though some
+unseen hand were about to strike a deadly blow, her hands lifted to
+guard her head.
+
+"No! no! no!  If there were another I could not bear it.  I should
+die!" she wailed.  Then passion took hold of her.  She stuffed the
+corner of her saree into her mouth and bit it savagely.  "No, I will
+not die!  It is the strange woman who shall die!  Hear me, swami of the
+big temple!  Hear my vow.  I will live and have my own! my own!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+The house in which Bopaul's father lived was situated in the same road,
+about a hundred yards distant, and on the opposite side.  It was nearer
+the town, and though a substantial building, was not as large as the
+silk merchant's; nor was the compound as extensive.  A similar
+preparation had been made by the family, but not on so large or
+expensive a scale; nor had the mistress thought it necessary to go on a
+pilgrimage.  New clothes had been bought, and store-rooms were
+replenished.  The house had been repainted and decorated.
+
+There was no young wife with her little son to await the coming of
+Bopaul; but his bride was already chosen, and the marriage ceremony
+would be performed as soon as the restoration of caste was
+accomplished.  She would not be present at his home-coming.  The girl
+was a stranger to him, and he had yet to make her acquaintance.  As in
+Pantulu's family, there were many relatives and dependents who
+performed the duties of servants; but claimed a right to share in the
+rejoicings as relations.
+
+One forlorn little figure in that busy happy company was not a
+participator in the joy of Bopaul's return.  This was his own sister
+Mayita, married in her infancy to Coomara.  By Coomara's death she had
+become a widow, although she had been only a wife in name.  Her
+degradation was aggravated by the fact that her husband had died
+abroad, with the funeral ceremonies, in which she should have taken a
+certain part, unperformed.
+
+In dying out of his country the dead man was laid, as we have seen,
+under the ban of broken caste.  It was irrevocably broken, no ritual
+having ever been devised by which it could be restored.
+
+Dressed once more as a bride--this time in bitter mockery--the jewels
+had been stripped from her neck and arms; her head was shaven; the
+glass bangles of her childhood were broken upon her wrists.  Never
+would she forget, young as she was, the crash of glass as the delicate
+circles were splintered under a sharp, irritable blow that in itself
+indicated how deeply her fate was resented by the family.  The soft
+brown-and-gold saree that harmonised with her complexion was ruthlessly
+unwound with unnecessary force as she stood weeping and unresisting in
+the hands of the wailing women.  It was thrown aside as though defiled
+by contact with her half-developed form.  In place of it she was
+obliged to wear a coarse cotton cloth, with rough edges, that chafed
+her tender skin and brought her unfortunate condition constantly to
+mind.
+
+No pity was felt for the shrinking, miserable girl as she flitted like
+a ghost about the house, avoiding with painful care young and old
+alike, lest her shadow should fall upon them and bring bad luck.  In
+the preparations for her brother's return she had no part.  When his
+eye should first fall upon her, he ought by all precedent to curse her,
+and command her to get out of his sight.  It was this thought that hurt
+her most, and caused a sharper grief than she had felt for the loss of
+her husband.  She was but thirteen years old.  A vivid memory remained
+of the brother who in old days had been invariably kind.  The longing
+to see him again was great; and many a secret tear was shed at the
+thought that she might no more bask in the sunshine of his fraternal
+love.
+
+In the caste family that is poor the widow becomes the drudge of the
+house.  It is often a blessing in disguise, if the work is not made too
+heavy, as it gives occupation for the mind.  In Bopaul's family it was
+not necessary for Mayita to occupy that position.  There were plenty of
+people to do the work, and she was not called upon to take any part in
+the household duties.  She would have been happier for a little
+employment; but she was denied both work and play.  The other children
+refused to allow her to join their games; and when she approached the
+women who ground the curry-stuffs, pounded and cleaned the rice, tended
+the kitchen fires or polished the numerous brass pots, they one and all
+motioned her away.  If she begged to be given occupation of some sort,
+they set her a task that had perforce to be executed in solitude.
+
+She sought her mother, but here again she was repulsed; not by rough
+words, but by her parent's sighs and tears.  Bopaul's mother was a
+stout, lethargic person, who loved above all things her own comfort.
+Until her daughter was widowed she was rarely seen without a placid
+smile of content.  She still wore it at times when the misfortune was
+forgotten.  As soon as Mayita appeared the smile faded; the large,
+slumbrous eyes filled with tears, and she began her lamentations.
+
+"What sin can my daughter have committed in a former birth that such
+heavy punishment should be meted out?"
+
+Then she would send her with a message to another part of the house,
+and the child knew that she was not expected to return.  If Mayita
+remained, the wailing was continued.
+
+"The sight of your widowhood is a shame to the whole house.  Such a
+misfortune can only come to those who have in some way grievously
+offended the gods."
+
+The accusation of sin in a former birth was repeated so often that at
+last the girl became possessed with a vague sense of wrong-doing.  Its
+responsibility added to the weight already resting upon the young
+shoulders, and increased her misery.
+
+Shortly after the receipt of the second telegram, one of the women
+belonging to Pantulu's family slipped away to carry the news to her
+neighbours.  She was received eagerly with a chorus of questions.
+
+"What news?  When do they come?  We have heard nothing."
+
+"It is not known when they arrive."
+
+"Why do you look so gloomy?  Is the news otherwise than good?"
+
+"Yemmah! how can I tell?  Aiyoh! to think of such a thing!"
+
+After this enigmatic speech she began to weep with the ready ease of
+the oriental.  The sensation created was gratifying to her vanity.
+There was a perfect clamour for an explanation.
+
+"What is it?  Speak! we are all on fire to learn!"
+
+"The master has sent an order by the wire that there are to be no
+rejoicings.  Aiyoh! to think that the young excellency should return to
+his father's house without rejoicings, without feastings and
+garlandings, and without fireworks and feeding of the poor!"
+
+"What says the mistress?"
+
+"That there has been an accident or an illness, and that their honours,
+the master and his son are not coming.  If there is bad luck it will be
+the waning moon that will have caused it.  Next week all would have
+gone well.  What news has been received in this house?  Has the ticking
+devil sent any message?"
+
+"Only one.  It was written on a thin slip of paper, and it came in a
+brown envelope."
+
+"What did it say?"
+
+"That the young master had landed in safety, and that they would leave
+Bombay by the night mail to-morrow."
+
+"And the rejoicings?"
+
+"There is no order to forbid them."
+
+"Is the swami here?"
+
+"He and his disciple arrived last night."
+
+"Happy house!  Happy mistress of an honourable family.  She is to be
+envied."
+
+"Our excellent lady has only one trouble; it is the presence of
+Coomara's widow."
+
+"What will she do about it?  It will bring misfortune on the young
+master if he meets his sister immediately on arrival."
+
+"She will be locked in the room that opens into the cowyard; and she
+will be kept there till the middle of the next day.  In the afternoon,
+when there is less fear of the frown of the gods, she may perhaps be
+permitted to see him; but only if he asks for her."
+
+Other members of Pantulu's household slipped away to carry the news to
+the neighbours.  The story was told and retold with variations till the
+whole town was agog with curiosity.  Many were the surmises, but not a
+single one came near the true solution of the mystery.
+
+On the morning of the day when Bopaul and his father were expected a
+large crowd gathered at the railway station to learn what had happened.
+No one knew whether Pantulu would be in the same train.  It was Bopaul
+to whom they looked for news.  Friends and fellow-caste men were
+permitted on the platform, which was crowded.  A larger number, moved
+only by curiosity, assembled outside the station.
+
+Chirapore was a terminus.  The train arrived and poured forth its load
+of travellers.  Some astonishment was caused by the sight of the large
+assembly gathered in and round the building; but the attention of
+Bopaul and his father was diverted to the recovery of personal baggage
+from the vans, and their curiosity as to the reason of so big a crowd
+was lost in anxiety to assure themselves of the safety of their
+property.
+
+Through the crowd Pantulu and his son pushed their way hastily.  So
+hemmed in were they that they escaped observation except by a few.  In
+the hurry and bustle no attempt was made to detain them for a greeting
+which could be made with more dignity later.  Pantulu led the way,
+passing straight through the station and out into the public road,
+where stood a row of carriages for hire.  Ananda followed close upon
+his heels with his suit-case.  His two portmanteaux were carried by a
+couple of coolies and placed without delay upon the roof of a hired
+gharry.
+
+Father and son stepped into the carriage and were driven off.  Not a
+word passed between them.  Ananda was conducted back to the home of his
+childhood in an ominous silence that chilled him and destroyed all his
+happiness.  He wondered vaguely what his father intended to do with
+him.  He was aware that he could not join the family circle, eat with
+them, take part in the daily religious worship conducted by his father
+as head of the house before the chief meal of the day.  His exclusion
+would have been insisted upon even if he had not taken the momentous
+step.  Until the restoration of caste it was imperative that he should
+lead a life apart from the rest of the family.  It would mean the
+occupation of an isolated room well away from the kitchen, the taking
+of his food in solitude, the reservation of earthen drinking vessels
+exclusively for his own use, to be destroyed afterwards.  But with all
+this there would be nothing to prevent him from meeting the male
+members of the family in that general place of assembly in all Indian
+houses, the pial or verandah.  There they could talk and he could
+relate his experiences, and the others might listen without fear of
+contamination.  This condition of affairs might last without personal
+discomfort to any one for a week or ten days, or even longer, according
+to the decree of those who conducted the ceremonies for the restoration
+of caste.
+
+Under the altered circumstances Ananda concluded that the arrangements
+for his accommodation would be of a permanent nature, and more
+comfortable than if they were temporary.  He would be able to furnish
+his room to his liking, introducing a few western luxuries, such as an
+armchair or two, a writing-table, bookcase, a table at which he could
+sit to take his meals.  He could join the family in the pial, but
+otherwise lead his own life as he had learned to lead it in England.
+No difficulty presented itself to his mind in the arrangement; in
+truth, there was none.  Provided he did not force himself upon his
+family in a manner that would endanger their caste rules, no objection
+could be made to his staying for a time under his father's roof.  Later
+he would propose the separate house--it might be small and
+unassuming--where he could live as he pleased with his wife and child.
+
+In the midst of his speculations the noisy ramshackle vehicle drew up
+before the house.  The plantain palms and festoons of green leaves
+remained where joyful fingers had placed them.  The Venetian masts that
+were to have supported ropes of Chinese lanterns had also been left
+standing, some of them bare of decoration, others gaudy with red and
+white twists of calico.  Not a living creature was visible.  The big
+iron-studded door was closely shut.  A few small windows looking
+towards the road were screened with Venetian shutters; the pial was
+empty.  There was not even the joyous bark of a dog to welcome home the
+wanderer.
+
+Pantulu stepped out of the carriage and directed the driver to place
+the two leather portmanteaux on the steps.  He kept his back to his son
+whenever he was able, and studiously averted his gaze.  The sight of
+the wound on his son's face hurt him more than a little.  Ananda
+followed his father, and the coachman was paid and ordered to leave
+without delay.  They waited till he had retreated in a cloud of dust;
+and then Ananda, who was impatient of delay, put his foot on the first
+step of the flight that led up to the pial.
+
+"Stop!" said his father, sternly.  "Follow me!"
+
+He gave no explanation, and confined himself to as few words as
+possible.  Leading the way round to the side of the house, he entered
+the compound and conducted his son to a little outer yard into which
+opened the door of a room that had no communication with the rest of
+the building.  The room was empty, except for a thick layer of dust and
+dried leaves blown in by the wind through the open door.  A tiny,
+unglazed, unshuttered window high up under the eaves of the roof,
+admitted a little light; but at best the room was but a den, and not
+fit for the accommodation of a human being, let alone a son of the
+house.
+
+"Go in and wait there," said his father, shortly, as though the
+necessity of addressing his son was repugnant.
+
+"I should like a chair--and a mat; and surely the room might be swept
+out with advantage," said Ananda, looking round with undisguised
+disgust.
+
+Pantulu avoided meeting his eyes, and walked away without replying.
+Meanwhile the advent of the gharry had not been unnoticed by the
+wondering household.  The mistress herself, overcome by her curiosity,
+pressed her forehead against the Venetians to peer through a chink and
+take a look at the arrivals.  She could tell by the expression on her
+husband's face that something had happened to disturb him greatly.
+Nothing less than some serious misfortune could bring those deep lines
+upon his brow and cause the corners of his mouth to droop so ominously.
+Of one thing she assured herself with some satisfaction.  Her son was
+sound in limb and well in health; and she caught her breath in a little
+sigh of relief.
+
+Dorama, hugging her child close to her breast, stood behind her
+mother-in-law, listening eagerly for news.
+
+"Has the excellent father arrived?" she ventured to ask at last, unable
+to repress her curiosity.
+
+A bare affirmative was all she could elicit.
+
+"Is he alone?" she asked presently.
+
+Pantulu's wife shook her head without speaking, and presently moved
+away from the window.  There was a little struggle among the women to
+secure her place.  They were disappointed.  The road and the short
+carriage-drive up to the house were empty except for a distant
+bullock-cart plodding its way to the market with a sleepy driver, who
+had eyes for nothing but his cattle.
+
+Gunga went to the back of the house.  She had not long to wait.
+Pantulu, dejected and gloomy, strode in by a door in the wall, passed
+quickly through the garden, mounted the verandah steps and, without a
+word, went straight to the front room, into which the big iron-studded
+door opened.  He greeted no one.  The men and women who had been
+waiting in the courtyard and inner rooms salaamed, but he took no
+notice of their salutations.  His wife followed him, and he asked
+gruffly for his brother.  A man some ten years younger than himself
+came forward and salaamed.
+
+"All is well with my honoured elder brother!  May the gods continue to
+smile on him and all his family!"
+
+Pantulu suddenly flung his arms up and cried passionately--
+
+"I am cursed!  The gods have cursed me--me and my family!'
+
+"In what manner, most excellent master of the house?"
+
+"My son has become a Christian!--my only son!  My only child!"
+
+The words rang out sharply and reached the ears of the group that had
+circled round the master of the house.  They were repeated from mouth
+to mouth with gathering consternation as the catastrophe was gradually
+realised.  Gunga heard them, and at first seemed stunned, so still and
+silent did she remain.  A groan escaped her lips, and the strong,
+shapely hands gripped the edge of her saree.
+
+"A Christian!  What do you say?  My ears have played me false.  I have
+not heard aright.  My son a Christian?  You jest, my husband!"
+
+"It is true!" he replied, in a dull, despairing voice that in itself
+should have been convincing if she could have brought herself to
+believe in such a thing; but she fought against it, and refused to
+entertain the idea.
+
+"Who dares to say that our son has become a Christian?" she asked
+fiercely.
+
+"His own tongue.  He calls himself by the accursed name, and he shows
+no shame."
+
+"A Christian! a Christian!" echoed voices round him.  "A Christian! a
+Christian!" was caught up by the women and repeated with increasing
+excitement.
+
+"Oh!  Aiyoh!  Aiyoh!  Aiyoh!"
+
+The cry came from Gunga herself.  It dominated the chorus of
+lamentation and silenced every other tongue.  Suddenly the sound of a
+thud upon the floor startled the company.  A childish scream followed.
+
+"Water! bring water!" said one of the women.  "The lady Dorama has
+fainted and let the child fall!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Ananda stood at the open door of the little room looking out at the
+view.  The earth was smiling under the tropical sun.  Birds and flowers
+responded to its tempered heat; and song and sweet odours were lavishly
+spent upon the soft air.  An oleander bush with its willow foliage
+tossed trusses of almond-scented, pink blossom, at the entrance of the
+yard.  The luxuriant vine of a gourd spread its thick leafage over a
+part of the ground enclosed.  Just outside a rose bush, laden with
+clusters of blossoms and buds, threw its thorny branches over the warm,
+sunbaked, mud wall.  A pair of tawny fritillary butterflies fluttered
+over the petals of the rose, and a blue roller bird flew across the
+sky, a living streak of brilliant azure upon the ethereal blue haze.
+Crested hoopoes ran along the base of the wall seeking ants and cooing
+softly in their contentment.
+
+Above foliage, flower and building rose the noble mountain mass in the
+distance, with its sholahs of virgin forest, its glades and slopes of
+green grass and peaks of bare grey rock.  Ananda's spirit stirred
+within him as his eye followed the familiar outline of the beautiful
+spur of the Western Ghats.  How often he had watched it under its
+different aspects and learned to love it, whether it was shrouding
+itself in a grey mantle of rain-laden vapour, or shining through a
+transparent haze of blue.
+
+He recalled the expeditions of his youth when his father had taken him
+to the hill for the day and he had returned with the spoil of the
+forest; ferns and orchids and long supple bamboos, strange leaves and
+flowers that could not be made to grow in his own garden.  He
+remembered a tiger, caught and speared by the natives, which was
+brought in by exulting herdsmen to be shown to his father.  A hyæna was
+also carried in in like manner slung upon a green bamboo cut from the
+forest.  He remembered how tightly he had clung to his father's hand in
+his fear of the big beasts with their strong jaws hanging open and the
+formidable teeth visible; and how his father reassured him each time,
+bidding him be brave and behave like a man.  Ananda sighed; ah, he
+would show his own son the same sights, and teach him to be a man!
+
+The thought of the child changed the current of his musings.  Where was
+the boy at the present moment?  Where was the boy's mother?  Only a
+wall or two separated them.  Why did they not come and greet him?  It
+was perfectly feasible.  There was no fear of contamination in the open
+air.  An interview might take place in the little yard or in the
+compound beyond without detriment to caste.
+
+He listened for the sound of voices.  The house was very silent.  The
+room apportioned to his use was remote from the kitchen and women's
+quarters; but with that large family there were usually people moving
+in all parts of the building.
+
+Nearly an hour passed and he began to grow impatient.  He went to the
+entrance of the yard and stood at the open gateway.  A man ran hastily
+round the corner of the house, his body bent under the load he was
+carrying.  It was one of Ananda's portmanteaux.  He approached the
+gateway and stopped in front of it.  Ananda looked him up and down and
+recognised him as a pariah employed as a sweeper outside the house.
+
+"What are you doing with my luggage?" he demanded angrily.
+
+The man put down his load and prostrated himself, touching the ground
+with his forehead.
+
+"The master ordered me to bring the two leather boxes belonging to your
+honour."
+
+"It is not for men such as you are to touch anything belonging to a son
+of the house."
+
+The pariah put his hands together palm to palm in abject apology and
+deprecation.
+
+"This lump of mud, this poor worm had no choice but to do the master's
+bidding.  He held his stick over my unprotected body, and threatened to
+beat me if I did not bring the boxes."
+
+He scrambled to his feet and ran off thankful to escape punishment from
+the owner of the trunks, and reappeared with the second.  Ananda
+directed him to leave them at the gateway.  When the man had gone he
+carried them into the room himself.  The dust flew in clouds as he set
+them down one after the other against the wall.  The neat dark suit he
+wore was stained and his fingers soiled.  Involuntarily he glanced
+round for the English washstand for means to rid himself of the
+offending dust.  He smiled at his own ridiculous expectations and
+turned to the fresh air outside, sweet and pure and refreshing, and
+cleansed his hands as well as he could on the coarse grass.
+
+A figure approached and he recognised his uncle, Sooba Iyer.  His face
+cleared and he advanced with outstretched hand.
+
+"It is good to see you again, my little father.  You are the first to
+greet me.  Where are the rest?"
+
+His uncle drew himself up with a gathering together of his muslin
+garments and lifted his hand with a warning gesture to arrest further
+advance.  Ananda knew the gesture well.  He had seen it often; aye, and
+practised it himself in days gone by, when accident had brought him
+near a pariah.  No reply was vouchsafed to his question, and he soon
+discovered the reason for the visit.  In abject humility the sweeper
+appeared, broom in hand.
+
+"Sweep out the room, contemptible one!" said Sooba.
+
+The pariah set to work at once to perform his task to the best of his
+ability, and wielded his broom till the air was thick, and a large heap
+of rubbish was accumulated.  The elder man stood silently in the
+enclosure, holding himself ready to avoid contamination by touch or
+shadow.  If there was relaxation at all it was towards the sweeper
+rather than his nephew.
+
+"I don't know why I should be treated in this way," protested Ananda.
+"Broken caste is broken caste.  I am in no worse case as a Christian
+than I was as a Hindu with my broken caste.  The only difference is
+that one state is temporary; the other is permanent.  Surely my mother
+has some better accommodation to give me than this."
+
+The last words were said with a touch of indignation; but they had no
+more effect in producing a reply than what had gone before.  The
+sweeper finished his work with the broom and was directed to fetch the
+things set apart for Ananda's use.  A couple of chairs, an old camp
+table, a cot laced with rope and furnished with coarse bedding.  These
+and a few other trifles were placed in the room by willing but awkward
+hands.  The pariah had had no experience in dealing with bedroom
+furniture.
+
+Two or three times Ananda addressed himself to his uncle but his
+remarks were received in stolid silence.  His relative might have been
+deaf.  Neither by look nor speech was there any sign of reply.  By this
+time the noon was passed, and although Ananda was too much disturbed in
+his mind to feel hungry he was conscious of thirst.  As his uncle was
+about to leave after having completed the arrangement of the room, he
+said--
+
+"It is some time since I had anything to drink.  I am thirsty.  Let the
+waterman bring me a pot of water and a cup."
+
+A few minutes later the sweeper returned bearing an earthen pot of
+water and a tin mug.  He approached the door with manifest reluctance,
+well aware of the gross insult he was offering.  His touch was
+pollution, unspeakable pollution.  Sooner would a caste man allow his
+drinking vessel to come into contact with a plague-stricken corpse than
+have it touched by a pariah.
+
+"My lord! this is not my doing.  With heavy blows has this slave been
+driven here----"
+
+He was not permitted to finish the apology.  Furiously angry, Ananda
+yielded to the instinct implanted by generations of caste ancestors.
+He rushed at him, knocked the earthen vessel out of his hands and with
+a blow sent him backwards into the foliage of the gourd.  The pot broke
+and the mug rolled aside.
+
+"How dare a loathsome pariah like this son of a jackal offer me such an
+insult!  Go! get out of my sight!  Don't let me see your face again."
+
+The unfortunate sweeper fled; and the outraged man sank upon a chair.
+He leaned his arms upon the ricketty table and bowed his head.  His
+lips trembled and the fingers of both hands slowly clenched over his
+palms in his effort to control himself; for the last act had unnerved
+and shaken him.  What had he done to merit such unnecessary and
+gratuitous insult?  The caste waterman of the establishment might have
+brought the water pot and mug.  He could have entered the room without
+detriment to his own caste.  In fact, all the duties recently performed
+by the sweeper could have been done without any difficulty by the
+servants of the house, and would have been performed by them if the
+intentional degradation had not been designed expressly for his
+humiliation.
+
+Ananda suffered keenly, as much from the unkindness and cruelty shown
+as from the insult.  It could not have happened without the consent of
+his parents.  A feeling of resentment at its injustice roused his
+indignation, and he lifted his head in angry pride.  He would not
+submit without protest.  His anger served as a tonic to his wounded
+spirit and pricked his courage.  The shining eyes hardened and the
+mouth grew firm.
+
+The day wore on without incident.  As no one appeared he determined to
+seek an interview with his father or mother or some other member of the
+family, and remonstrate against the outrageous treatment he was
+receiving.
+
+Memory served him well; he had forgotten nothing of the geography of
+the place and he found nothing altered.  Walking slowly round to the
+front of the house he arrived at the stone steps that led up to the
+verandah.  Three or four men were seated on the masonry bench; they
+were talking together; but as soon as they caught sight of him they
+became silent.
+
+Ananda recognised two of them as relatives and he greeted them by name
+as he mounted the steps.
+
+"I wish to see my father," he said with a new dignity and authority.
+"Will one of you go and say that his son awaits him in the verandah."
+
+The request called forth no reply.  They stared at him and rose one by
+one, retiring through the big door which stood open.  He was alone,
+standing on the top step, not daring to enter the house.  Too well he
+knew all that would be involved by such an action.  The inner courtyard
+was exposed to view.  His eager eyes searched every corner for a sight
+of the figure he longed to see.  A child toddled out from the women's
+quarters.  The boy's curiosity was roused.  With the delightful absence
+of shyness and self-consciousness peculiar to Indian children the
+little fellow began to run towards him fearlessly, limping slightly.
+
+It needed no words to tell the eager father who it was.  Ananda's heart
+leaped within him, flooded with a warm wave of paternal love.  That
+beautiful boy with his rounded limbs, his smooth olive skin, his
+regular features could be none other than his son.  Pride, tenderness,
+joy rose at the thought, and he opened his arms.  Swiftly the child
+approached with growing confidence.  Swifter still followed a form that
+caused Ananda's heart to beat quicker and the blood to race through his
+veins.
+
+It was his wife.  If the boy was beautiful what was she in the first
+flush of her womanhood?  From his lips fell the one word that no other
+man had a right to call her.  "Wife!"
+
+Did she hear him?  He felt that she must have caught the word.  A pair
+of startled eyes met his as she snatched away the child.  The great
+door slammed in his face, and the vision was gone.  Was it her hand
+that struck the cruel blow?  Or had some member of the family crept up
+unseen and swung the door into its socket.
+
+Again the first sensation was a sense of injury and unmerited wrong;
+but the weakness passed more quickly this time, and it was followed by
+a just wrath.  The family had no right to treat him in this insulting
+manner, he said to himself indignantly.  He was being condemned
+unheard.  They were inhuman as well as unjust.  He felt sure that this
+treatment was not meted out with his parents' consent.  It was the work
+of his uncle, who was too fond of playing the master of the house.  He
+must see his father and have some explanation.  When his parents had
+heard the reason for the step he had taken, they would understand; they
+would become interested; and when they learned the beautiful doctrines
+of Christianity regarding the future life, they might possibly incline
+towards the new faith themselves and find comfort in the hope it
+taught.  In their ignorance of the fundamental teaching of Christianity
+his parents believed that there was an immeasurable gulf between the
+two creeds.  If they would only listen they would realise that in
+Christ was to be found the ideal and perfect manifestation of God.  His
+teaching brought hope and comfort and a sure promise of progressive
+happiness; whereas the creed of the Hindu presented nothing but a
+stagnant circle of painful rebirths.  At best it could only end in loss
+of personality, which was nothing more nor less than a hideous
+spiritual and intellectual death, more horrible to contemplate than the
+physical death.
+
+Ananda had not been received into the English Church without due
+instruction.  The duties of his adopted faith had been carefully
+inculcated.  He had been warned that if he met with any persecution he
+would have to bear it in a Christ-like spirit, meekly and with patience.
+
+As he stood before the closed door meekness and patience were
+conspicuous by their absence.  The old Adam boiled within him in the
+full strength of oriental passion.  In furious wrath he beat at the
+closed door with his walking-stick.  He called his father by name, and
+other male relatives.  He tried to wrench open the wooden shutters of
+the windows; but door and windows alike resisted his efforts and left
+him exhausted.  No one answered his angry calls and impatient knocks.
+He listened but could not hear a sound.  He was opposed by a colossal
+silence that did more to crush and subdue the chafing spirit than
+torrents of abuse.
+
+Tired out, and his wrath partly spent, he gave up the attempt to summon
+a member of the household and went dejectedly down the steps, turning
+his back upon the inhospitable door of his old home.  He glanced up and
+down the road.  What should he do with himself during the remaining
+hours of daylight?  To the south-east the town clustered round the old
+fort.  He knew it well with its thronged streets and busy bazaars.  To
+the north-west stood the mountains purpling into rich shades as the sun
+approached the horizon.  A refreshing breeze blew in from the north.
+It cooled his heated face and drew him in the direction of the open
+country with a kindly welcome.
+
+He walked towards the silent hills until the sun and its afterglow had
+disappeared.  Then he retraced his steps, his peace of mind somewhat
+restored.  He became conscious of a healthy appetite and of an
+insistent thirst for a cup of tea or coffee or a glass of milk.
+
+He regained his room.  It was in darkness except for a small oil lamp,
+too dim to be of any use for reading purposes, that stood upon the camp
+table.  In a corner near the door was another waterpot with a tin mug.
+He did not know if the mug was the same that the pariah had defiled by
+his touch; he preferred to think that the waterman had brought both the
+pot and the mug, and under this persuasion he took a long drink.
+
+Apparently his return was observed by the household.  Ten minutes later
+the same man, who had swept his room, appeared carrying a tray on which
+were dishes of curry with chutney and rice.  All were of the best and
+most tempting quality.  The mere smell whetted Ananda's appetite till
+he was well nigh ravenous; but he turned resolutely away whilst the
+pariah, not daring to enter the room, set the tray down on the
+threshold and vanished before Ananda could throw him thanks or abuse.
+If the truth must be told it was the latter that was on the tip of his
+tongue; but something arrested the torrent of curses and made him pause.
+
+He did not attempt to analyse the feeling.  The just anger of an
+injured man was still dominant; but something from outside, something
+altogether new was working underneath his caste instincts.  He stood at
+the open door looking out at the starlit night, the much needed food at
+his feet.  A strange sense of detachment, of calm isolation, came over
+him, bringing an unexpected stilling of the emotional storm; it was
+almost peace.  The quiet beauty of the night stirred the memory of St.
+Paul's cathedral.  He seemed to hear the wonderful cadences of the
+organ echoing round him, pouring balm upon the senses and endowing the
+wounded spirit with strength to rise to better things above the
+passions of the soul.  By the aid of that memory he climbed out of the
+slough of despair into which he had been plunged; and a half articulate
+prayer went up to the living God for pity and help.
+
+The crescent moon following the sun to its setting shone in the
+luminous grey-green sky.  That same moon faintly silvered the big grey
+dome of St. Paul's where the organ pealed and the choir sang the daily
+evensong.  He calculated the time.  It was about the hour for the
+service to begin.  In spirit he was back again kneeling among the quiet
+worshippers, unnoticed but not despised, repeating the wonderful prayer
+to "Our Father" that all lips can utter no matter what the creed of the
+worshipper may be.
+
+How long he remained standing at the door he did not know.  The smell
+of the savoury curry reached his nostrils, and appealed to a part of
+his nature that could not be ignored.  There was no doubt but that he
+was desperately hungry; and the curry was food he had not tasted for
+some time past.  It was one of the pleasures to which he was looking
+forward on his return home, as the Englishman thinks of the beefsteak.
+His mother prided herself on the excellence of her chutneys.  In the
+dim light he could see that they had been dealt out with a liberal hand.
+
+Suddenly he remembered who had brought the food.  It was the despised
+pariah.  With a shudder he turned away as a European might have turned
+from carrion.  He understood why the food had been prepared so
+carefully.  It was not love but a refined cruelty that had prompted the
+serving up of such a curry.
+
+He flung himself into a chair and passed his hand over his eyes.  The
+mud walls, unrelieved by whitewash looked black and murky.  The tiled
+roof was open and without a ceiling.  A fusty uncleanly scent of bats
+and squirrels offended him; and the rough wooden cot with its coarse
+black blankets was uninviting even to a weary man who longed for repose.
+
+His portmanteaux and suit case remained untouched where he had thrown
+them; he had not the heart to unpack and pull out the various little
+luxuries which from long use in England were a necessity in his daily
+routine.  There was no dressing-table where brushes, combs, collar and
+stud boxes could lie; no washstand with spotless towel and pretty
+crockery to hold his sponge and soap.  If he took off his coat, no
+wardrobe nor chest of drawers was provided for its reception.  It must
+hang over the back of a chair until it was required again.
+
+The food, hot and steaming when it was brought, grew cold and less
+inviting.  He could not leave it there all night; it must be moved if
+only to allow of the door being closed when he slept.  Once more he
+went to the doorway, and this time called softly.  Immediately the same
+man appeared.
+
+"Excellency! this slave is here."
+
+"Take away the food.  It has been defiled by the hand of a sweeper and
+I cannot eat it."
+
+The man obeyed without a word.  He returned and fell to the ground
+before Ananda.
+
+"The great one knows that this is not the doing of this worm.  The big
+mistress commanded it, and this slave could not do otherwise.  The
+master's brother himself held the stick over my shoulders, and when I
+protested he let it fall.  See, even by the dim light of the lamp how
+my skin is striped."
+
+Ananda strode out past him into the night.
+
+"Follow me; I have something to say."
+
+He walked away from the building, keeping, however, within the
+compound, which was walled in and private.  When they were at a
+sufficient distance to be secure from eavesdropping and observation
+Ananda spoke.
+
+"Tell me! who is it that gives orders?  Is it my father?"
+
+"The honourable master gives no orders.  He sits silent in the front
+room without speaking."
+
+"It is my mother, then?"
+
+The pariah wagged his head in assent.
+
+"It is the big mistress aided by the excellency's brother.  He tells
+her what to say and she repeats his words to one of the kitchen women
+who delivers the orders to me.  I said to the kitchen woman that this
+was not my work.  I am paid to sweep round the house and carry away the
+refuse.  His honour's brother heard me and came towards me with his
+stick raised.  I was frightened and obeyed."
+
+"Did you tell them that I broke the waterpot?"
+
+The pariah again made a sign in the affirmative.
+
+"What did they say?"
+
+"The kitchen woman told me that the small master laughed, and the big
+mistress said 'It is well.'"
+
+"And his excellency?  How did he receive the news?"
+
+"He bowed his head and hid his face in his hands.  'It is hard on the
+boy,' she heard him say, 'and there is no necessity.'  My lord, I have
+orders to go to-morrow morning early for the coffee and rice cakes
+apportioned to your honour.  What can I do?  My lord must eat or he
+will be sick.  I am but a slave with no choice but to obey."
+
+He put his hands together as though he prayed forgiveness.  Ananda
+paused before replying.
+
+"Do as you are told," he said at last; and he spoke more gently to the
+unfortunate outcaste than he had done before.  "I can give the food to
+the crows.  They are not troubled with caste scruples," he added
+bitterly.
+
+"But the young master must not starve," said the pariah, with real
+concern.  "My lord must forgive his worthless servant for speaking.
+This worm has a plan by which the master shall not starve.  To-morrow
+before it is light I will bring a herdsman with his cow and he shall
+draw the milk and deliver it into your honour's hand.  There are shops
+in the town where food may be bought in tins.  It is well known that
+people of all castes eat European biscuits in peace without defilement
+if they open the tins themselves.  The master shall buy and open for
+himself.  I will bring charcoal so that the milk may be warmed by your
+excellency and all will be well."
+
+"Good; let it be so," replied Ananda.
+
+He gave the man no thanks, but there was a softness in his voice that
+satisfied him.  Ananda turned back towards the little room that was to
+serve as bedroom and sitting-room for the present, a den in which even
+a dog would have moped and pined.  A sound reached his ears causing him
+to stop.  It was a wail of grief such as the women raised on the death
+of a member of the family.  He called to the pariah.
+
+"Who weeps in the house?"
+
+"The big mistress and her women."
+
+"Is any one of the family dead?"
+
+"They weep because your excellency is not with them."
+
+"It is enough; go."
+
+It was indeed enough!  At intervals during the night he heard the wail
+as he lay on his uncomfortable bed.  It spoke volumes.  He was dead to
+them from henceforth and worse than dead.  He was an outcaste sunk to
+the lowest depths of degradation, ranked with the "untouchables," and
+regarded with loathing as unclean and abominable.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+Pantulu rose the following day as usual and performed his ceremonial
+ablutions.  Later in the morning when the family had dispersed he laid
+himself down in the shade of the verandah of the inner court.  His wife
+had been watching him with some anxiety.  He was too quiet, too
+wordless to satisfy her.  She would have been better pleased if he had
+broken out into loud cursings and lamentations; if he had exhibited
+irritation and temper to the rest of the household.  It would have been
+excusable if he had stormed at herself for some trifle; or dealt out
+correction to some of the younger members of the family.
+
+She and her women had obtained relief in the wailing and tears of the
+previous night.  By the small hours of the morning every one was tired
+out and ready for sleep.  They all awoke satisfied that the atmosphere
+was clearer and their balance of mind restored.  Each went her way to
+perform her duty feeling that there was no need to waste more time in
+regret.
+
+Ananda's father had taken the misfortune differently.  So far he had
+found no outlet for his grief.  Throughout the long absence of his son
+he had daily and hourly looked forward to the boy's return.  Sometimes
+he had been assailed by a haunting fear lest something should happen,
+lest Ananda should die in that distant land as Coomara had done and
+never come back; lest he himself should die.  Then hope would revive
+and he would spend his idle hours picturing the home-coming and all its
+delights.  Never in any of his visions did the evil enter that had
+actually overtaken the family; and now that it had come he could not
+face it.  It hung about him like a dark shadow the depths of which he
+dared not fathom.
+
+His wife leaned over him where he lay on a mat against the wall.  This
+feeble surrender to grief was not at all to her mind, and she had no
+intention of allowing him to take his trouble meekly.
+
+"Husband, you are not well.  The kitchen woman shall make you a hot
+drink that will warm your heart."
+
+"My heart is already too hot!  I have swallowed the red-hot balls that
+Yama prepares for the cursed after death.  I want for nothing but
+relief from my pain; and who can give that?"
+
+"Lying here with a broken spirit will not bring relief.  It is a
+mistake to grieve while there is hope, unless it be for an hour or two
+as I and my women lamented last night.  This morning I rise refreshed
+and ready to do battle with the evil.  The struggle has begun and it
+has begun well.  The boy broke the waterpot, struck the sweeper and
+commanded him to get out of his sight.  He also refused his food last
+night.  It must have tempted him sorely for I superintended the
+preparation of it myself; and I have not forgotten his tastes."
+
+She sat down by the recumbent figure and passed her long soft hands
+over his limbs with a soothing touch.
+
+"My boy went starving to bed?"
+
+"As an ill-behaved son should!"
+
+"He ate very little in the train, saying that he would the better enjoy
+his mother's curry.  Eiheu!" he drew in his breath and breathed it out
+in a sigh.  "He must have suffered in his hunger!"
+
+Gunga's eyes flashed angrily, the lids closing quickly with an ominous
+snapping movement.
+
+"Let him suffer!  His troubles and his hunger have only just begun.
+They are nothing to what will follow if he remains obstinate," she said
+vindictively.  "With your brother's help we shall bring down his pride
+in time."
+
+Pantulu moved his hand as if in protestation.  "Is it necessary?  Can
+we not try other means first?"
+
+The thought of cruelties practised upon his son was unbearable.
+
+"Get up and speak to him yourself.  Perhaps he will listen and then
+there will be no need for punishment.  Point out how he has sinned, not
+only against us, his parents, but against your dead father, your
+grandfather and his father.  The shraddah ceremonies have been
+faithfully performed by you.  Through your good offices the spirits of
+your ancestors rest in peace; but when you die, who is to perform the
+rites by which your spirit will find happiness?  Your
+great-great-grandfather will not suffer; your ceremonies have released
+him; but if your son cannot and will not perform the necessary rites,
+you and three generations behind you will remain in the power of Yama
+to be plagued as the god of death wills.  What does that mean but
+rebirths innumerable to a life of suffering and degradation?  Is the
+peace of four departed members of the family to be imperilled because a
+wilful son refuses to do his duty?  He must be forced to abandon his
+strange opinions.  He must be obliged by some means or other to perform
+the rites for the restitution of his caste; and he must and shall be
+the chief mourner at the death of his father whenever that may be."
+
+The last words rang out clearly so that they could be heard by the
+whole household.  They carried conviction to every listener.  No one
+doubted that the mother would prevail in the end.  Even Pantulu himself
+with all his weakness born of his intense love for his son admitted
+that she was right; that at all costs Ananda must be made to renounce
+his new faith.
+
+If no son were at hand to perform the funeral rites at his cremation
+and afterwards on the anniversary of his death, he must assuredly be
+born again as an unhappy beast of burden; or as some loathsome creature
+whose very existence was misery and against whom every man's hand was
+turned.  As Pantulu continued silent Gunga took up her parable again.
+
+"When the horse is wilful it is beaten; when the bullock is obstinate
+it is goaded.  When a son is disobedient his parents use the means
+provided by the gods to bring him into subjection.  What I have done
+thus far is nothing! nothing! but before proceeding further I will
+leave my husband to exercise his authority.  Rise! be a man! be a
+father worthy of the name!  Rise and speak to him.  Show him clearly
+all that is involved in his foolish action.  Argue with him.  Aye! if
+it pleases you beg of him to consider, to have pity on his father, to
+have mercy on his mother.  If he remains obstinate have him beaten and
+starved and brought low with pain and hunger----"
+
+"Woman! he is my son! my beloved child!  I hurt him once when I struck
+him in my surprise and anger.  I cannot hurt him again!"
+
+The tears welled in the haggard eyes and ran unchecked down the old
+cheeks.  She uttered an exclamation of contemptuous impatience.
+
+"You are weak, too weak to lead a headstrong boy.  However, no good can
+come of lying here.  Get up and try what the tongue can do."
+
+Pantulu raised himself from the mat, shook out the crumpled folds of
+his muslin garments.  His heart ached for his son, and he was conscious
+of only one desire--to put his arms about his neck and thank the gods
+that his boy was safe home again.  His anger had evaporated in the
+ebullition with which the announcement was greeted.  Already he was
+secretly repenting that he had cursed him; and he would have recalled
+his maledictions if he could have done so without raising the ire of
+his wife.
+
+"Where is he?" he asked dispiritedly.
+
+"He walks at the further end of the compound."
+
+Pantulu moved away towards the back of the house and passed through the
+garden.  He entered the grassy compound by the doorway in the mud wall
+that enclosed the garden.  At the further end from the road he caught
+sight of a figure.  With his hands behind his back Ananda stood looking
+at the mountain.  His thoughts were in the past when he and his father
+started out for the forest.  By some instinct he turned at the approach
+of the older man and fixed on him a startled gaze.  For the first time
+he noticed how Pantulu had aged.  He stooped as he walked, and dragged
+his legs listlessly.  Ananda strode forward and fell at Pantulu's feet
+as the pariah had prostrated himself the day before.
+
+"Excellent and honourable father! at last my prayer is granted, and I
+am permitted to see and speak with you."
+
+"Rise, my son; I am sorry you have had to wait.  Since my return I have
+not felt well."
+
+The watching woman looking through the Venetians saw the meeting and
+the son's obeisance.  "Now, if he will press the boy whilst his heart
+melts within him, he may bring him to reason," she said to herself.
+She called to her brother-in-law.  "See! my husband brings his son to
+the house.  They will come into the verandah.  Quick! hide beneath the
+window that is behind the bench where he usually sits.  Listen to all
+that is said and bear it in mind.  I must know every word that passes
+between them."
+
+As Pantulu and Ananda moved towards the house the former asked if the
+other had breakfasted.
+
+"I had some biscuits," replied Ananda.  He thought it wiser not to
+mention the milk lest he should get the pariah into trouble and stop
+the supply.  "I cannot eat food sent by the hand of the sweeper."
+
+"It is impossible!" murmured Pantulu with a shudder.  "Ah!  I am glad
+that my boy has not been obliged to defile himself in that way.  For
+drink, what have you done?  Have you found means to satisfy your thirst
+without defilement?"
+
+"That also I have accomplished."
+
+"Your mother must not know."
+
+"It is by my mother's orders that I am thus treated?"
+
+"It is done by the consent of the whole family, not by the mother
+alone," said Pantulu, unwilling to hurt Ananda's feelings.
+
+"You are ruler in your own house, excellency.  Order one of the women
+servants to attend upon me.  It hurts the caste of no one to carry food
+to the outcaste."
+
+"Inside the house your mother rules, as is the custom among families
+like ours.  I cannot interfere; but I can speak to her and ask her to
+give the order.  If I can take good news she may listen."
+
+"Good news; what does that mean?" asked Ananda.
+
+"That you will give up your strange madness and allow the caste
+restoration ceremonies to take place."
+
+Ananda did not reply.  His father's eyes searched his face with
+undisguised anxiety for sign of a favourable response.  He only saw a
+tightening of the lower lip and slight protruding of the jaw with an
+unconscious toss of the head.  He remembered the trick of old and all
+that it implied.  The deep underlying obstinacy that had ever been the
+one fault of the boy was still there ready to uphold new beliefs,
+prematurely formed in his father's opinion and without sufficient
+consideration.  His heart sank within him and he was silent during the
+rest of the way.
+
+They arrived at the house and mounted the steps that led up to the
+front door.  The door was closed and the verandah was empty.  Pantulu
+took his seat upon a broad bench and drew his feet up beneath him.  It
+was as Gunga had said, just under a window.  He signed to his son to
+sit on the same bench by his side.
+
+"No harm will have been done by your having called yourself a Christian
+in a foreign land," continued Pantulu, resolutely looking away from his
+companion's face, that he might not be discouraged by what was so
+manifest there.  "The ceremonies will be of a character to restore you
+even if you have sinned greatly.  I have money enough to satisfy the
+purohits.  There are worse offences than the one you have committed.
+You have not killed a Brahman, for instance."
+
+"I told you, oh excellent father, that having taken this step there is
+no going back," said Ananda, at last, in a low voice.
+
+"I say there is; there must be a going back.  Your deeds can be undone,
+expiated.  Listen!"  Pantulu controlled his excitement and continued
+more quietly.  "Listen, my son.  Let me put before you all that it
+means if you refuse to come back to us.  Who is to perform the funeral
+rites at my death if you cannot be chief mourner?  Are they to be left
+unperformed?  Is my spirit to wander as a wretched ghost and be born
+again as an unhappy contemptible pariah or beast because my son refuses
+to fulfil his duties?"
+
+"You will never be born again on this earth, my father; you will never
+become a man or a beast again," cried Ananda, his eyes aglow with
+enthusiasm.  "The man-God of the Christians came to open men's eyes to
+better things, to assure the world of immediate pardon for sin, and to
+promise a happiness after death far exceeding any earthly happiness.
+Think what a glorious future He offers to us in place of the hopeless
+cycles of rebirths."
+
+Pantulu shook his head in perplexity, not without fear at the blasphemy
+against Hinduism that fell upon his startled ears.
+
+"Our faith was ancient before ever the man-God of the Christians was
+born.  Were the millions, who lived and died before His time, living
+and dying in error?"
+
+"They lived and died according to the light given to them by God.  When
+Christ was born, a new light came into the world.  It is by following
+the new light that I have found my hope in a glorious future, an
+existence of joy and happiness surpassing even the Nirvana itself; for
+we shall retain our personality and consciousness which is denied to
+those who look for absorption in the Hindu Deity.  Try and realise the
+joy that you and I, my beloved father, will feel when we meet in that
+golden future.  At Coomara's death I was in despair.  Every time I
+heard a dog shriek or saw a horse overloaded and beaten, I thought of
+my friend suffering similar pains; and all for no fault of his!  It was
+intolerable in its injustice; I could not bear it.  Then I met the
+family of an Englishman who was killed suddenly; and I wondered at
+their peace, their resignation, their perfect faith in his happiness
+and their belief in a future meeting.  When I found that the secret lay
+in their religion what could I conclude but that their religion must be
+better and more advanced than mine?"
+
+Pantulu had listened unwillingly at first and with prejudice; gradually
+his curiosity was aroused; he wanted to learn what it was that had
+attracted Ananda and taken so strong a hold upon him.  Moreover the
+charm of hearing his son's voice once more exercised a kind of hypnotic
+influence, causing him almost to forget the vital issues of their
+conversation and their variance of opinion.  There was comfort also in
+proximity.  The poor old man found delight in the mere touch of his
+boy's hand.  Nothing could kill the paternal love that had filled
+Pantulu's life.
+
+In the distance he heard his wife speaking sharply to one of her women
+in the kitchen.  The sound made him start guiltily.  What had he been
+doing?  Listening to rank heresy instead of preaching orthodoxy.  He
+pulled himself together with an effort.
+
+"My son, the Christian faith may be all very well for Christians.  We
+are Hindus, born, by a fate over which we have no control, in the Hindu
+faith.  The faith is bound up with our social and political laws and
+cannot be separated.  Let me point out to you how important it is that
+you should make no change.  If by remaining an outcaste you cannot
+fulfil the part of chief mourner at my death, the law of caste--and it
+is upheld by our country's law--disinherits you, You cannot inherit any
+of my wealth, my lands, my houses, my looms, my silk farms, my jewels
+and hoard of silver.  Not a single rupee will be yours if another hand
+drops the rice and butter into the fire before my dead body immediately
+after death; if another bears the pot of fire in my funeral procession;
+if another lights the funeral pile.  Would you wish to lose your
+birthright, the riches that should be yours, the honour as head of one
+of the oldest and most respected families of Chirakul?  Would you
+deliberately make yourself a pauper, an outcaste, despised even by the
+pariahs?  Consider well all that you propose to sacrifice."
+
+Once more Pantulu gazed anxiously into his boy's face for a sign that
+he relented, that his pleading had prevailed; and his heart sank within
+him as he noted the tightening of the lower lip and the obstinate tilt
+of the chin.  Again he spoke, repeating the old arguments, enumerating
+the property that should one day belong to his son; but without avail.
+At length Ananda made a kind of response in putting a question.
+
+"If I do not take upon myself the duties of chief mourner, on whom do
+they fall?" he asked.
+
+"On your son."
+
+"And the child will inherit your fortune?"
+
+"Everything; and as soon as he comes of age he will take my place in
+the family councils and you will be as one that has died in a foreign
+land."
+
+Ananda rose to his feet intimating that as far as he was concerned the
+interview was at an end.
+
+"Your answer, my son! your answer! what news am I to carry to your
+mother?" cried Pantulu, in sudden dismay, as he realised two facts--his
+son was leaving him, and he had failed miserably in his attempt to win
+him back.
+
+"I have nothing to say that has not been already said."  Ananda spoke
+with evident pain.  It grieved him to wound his father by refusing to
+comply with his wishes.  He knew of what vital importance it was to a
+Hindu to have the assurance that the funeral rites would be duly
+performed by a fitting and proper member of the family; and he found
+the greatest difficulty in maintaining his honesty of speech.  The
+temptation to temporise was strong.  "It is impossible, even if I
+desired it, to re-establish my faith in the Hindu teaching concerning
+the future life.  It is a miserable groping in the dark, a wilful
+blinding of the eyes; the whole thing is a relic of the ancestor
+worship of a barbarous people not worthy of our nation with its present
+civilisation.  I must have something better----"
+
+"My son! my son!" interrupted his father in an agony of disappointment
+and grief.  "It is killing me!  Have mercy on me!  My life is bound up
+in yours!  I cannot live without you!  Keep your beliefs secretly if
+you will, but I beg, I pray you conform outwardly to the faith of your
+ancestors.  In their names I command you to come back and do your
+duty----"
+
+The door of the house opened and Gunga came out confronting her son for
+the first time since his return.  Ananda put the palms of his hands
+together and repeated his greeting mechanically.
+
+"May the gods protect you, most excellent and beloved mother!"
+
+She received the salutations with an exclamation of contempt.
+
+"Call me not mother!  Unhappy woman that I am to have given birth to
+such a breaker of our most sacred laws.  Go! get out of the house which
+you have dishonoured!  See!" she pointed to Pantulu, who had drooped
+where he sat till he seemed to crouch in abject misery.  "See how he is
+stricken!  It is the hand of a wicked son who has dealt the blow.  May
+that hand be accursed!  May its owner be condemned to cycles of
+wretched rebirths!"
+
+She poured out a string of curses upon him and he fled.  Obstinate yet
+strangely craven, he clung desperately to the new faith which alone
+held out a promise of salvation from the awful fate invoked by his
+mother.  Her very maledictions drove him to his new leader Christ.  His
+father's entreaties only placed before him anew the tenets that had
+filled him with such horror.  Already he had had experience of the
+persecution he was likely to meet with if he persisted in his adherence
+to Christianity.  He shrank from physical pain with the timidity of a
+child; but for all that he preferred to face the ills of this life to
+the terrors of the Hindu life to come.
+
+With his heart thumping like a hammer he regained his room and sat down
+to collect the thoughts scattered by the sudden and unexpected
+onslaught made by his mother.  His spirit rose in a wordless prayer; it
+seemed to steep itself in the new light, and again he was sensible of a
+blessed peace that soothed and calmed his disordered mind.  His courage
+returned, and he deliberately set himself to recall his father's words.
+What was it that he had said about disinheritance?  He must have made a
+mistake.  The solution of the difficulty would be found in the making
+of a will.  His father must have a proper will drawn up by which his
+son was named as his heir.  He must have another interview.  On second
+thoughts perhaps it would be better to write his request.
+
+Taking out his writing case he set to work at once.  The time slipped
+by without his knowledge.  He looked at his watch; it was three
+o'clock.  The sweeper did not appear and no food was sent.  The
+omission did not trouble him.  Again he satisfied his hunger with
+biscuits and tried to forget his thirst.
+
+The sun set and the tropical night approached.  He listened for the
+step of the despised pariah, but the man did not come to perform any of
+his duties.  The excitement of the journey and return home had worn
+off, and Ananda was conscious of an oppressive dullness.  He lighted
+the dim oil lamp and a little later lay down on his cot.
+
+He was in a sound sleep when he was awakened by the falling of some
+little stones near the cot.  A whisper reached his ears.
+
+"Excellency! the cow is here.  Come for your milk."
+
+Ananda rose at once and crept out of his room in silence.  He followed
+the pariah to the wall that divided the compound from the road.  A
+herdsman of his own caste handed him a bottle of milk over the wall,
+just drawn from the cow for which he paid him the current price with a
+small sum in addition for his trouble in bringing the cow at such an
+hour.  The man went away immediately.
+
+"Excellency, no food was sent to-day by my hand," said the sweeper.
+"It did not matter since your honour could not eat it; but the meaning
+of such treatment must be understood.  The big mistress hopes to starve
+your excellency into obedience.  This she can only do when there is no
+more money left in your honour's moneybag.  Be careful of your rupees.
+I can bring the cow but I cannot bring rupees and the cow will not come
+without the rupees."
+
+The man mounted the wall with the intention of returning to his home.
+
+"Why did you not come to-day to sweep the yard?" asked Ananda.
+
+"I was forbidden by the big mistress.  The order has been given that no
+one is to speak with your honour or approach your room.  To-morrow
+night I will come and bring the herdsman with his cow."
+
+The following morning Ananda wrote another letter which he posted
+himself in the town.  It was addressed to Dr. Wenaston, Principal of
+the College of Chirapore; and the long epistle he had prepared for his
+father remained in his writing case undelivered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+A soft, balmy air brushed the blossoms of the eucharis lilies, and
+swept over the delicate green maidenhair fern growing under the shade
+of the verandah of the Principal's house.  Out in the broad sunshine
+the blue ipomea, the morning glory of the Indian garden, opened its
+mass of azure blooms and spread a gorgeous mantle over the bamboo
+trellis that supported it.
+
+The plump rounded figure of Mrs. Hulver, Dr. Wenaston's housekeeper,
+appeared on the raised verandah, followed by the butler.  She was a
+widow and had been married three times, a fact that no one of her
+acquaintance was permitted to forget.
+
+Her father was a British soldier of Scotch birth; and her mother a
+Eurasian.  In her youth Maria had some pretensions to good looks.  It
+was the prettiness of youth so often seen where the blood of the east
+and the west is mixed.  Her small regular features and olive complexion
+could make no claim to beauty in her mature middle age, when her figure
+had lost its delicate proportions and gained in amplitude.  The eyes
+alone were unaltered.  She had her Scotch father's grey eyes with his
+keen glance.  Nothing escaped them, as the servants knew by experience;
+and when they failed to elucidate a domestic mystery her inherited
+shrewdness came to her assistance.
+
+At the age of sixteen a marriage was made for her by her mother, who
+chose a prosperous and not over-scrupulous overseer in the Public Works
+Department named William Delaine.  He was more than double the age of
+his bride; and had lived long enough to put together a nice little
+property in houses and land.  There were no children, and when he died
+ten years later he left everything to his widow.
+
+Her second marriage was to an Englishman, whose regiment was stationed
+at Bangalore.  Corporal William Smith was a reserved man of a
+thoroughly British temperament, endowed with a rugged honesty that
+despised any sort of evasion of the truth in speech or action.
+Uncompromisingly straightforward he did much to carry on the early
+training of Maria's mind begun by her father.  She was very happy with
+William Smith in a placid way, and bore him a son who was educated in
+the barrack-school and in due time drafted into the drummer-boy corps
+attached to the regiment.  Later the boy enlisted and followed in the
+footsteps of his father.  William Smith was about to take his pension
+and return to England when he was struck down with malarial fever; and
+for the second time in her life Maria became a widow.
+
+Her third husband was an Irish soldier who had been pensioned and
+elected to remain in the country.  He also bore the name of William.
+Being of a good-natured domesticated disposition, Hulver cast his eyes
+round the large domiciled European and Eurasian community in Bangalore
+for a suitable wife.  Mrs. William Smith seemed in every way the woman
+to fill the position.  She was of the right age, unencumbered by
+children except for the one son who was provided for.  In addition she
+owned a nice little property which, with his pension, would make life
+easy and comfortable.
+
+A little hitch at one time seemed likely to upset his plans.  It was a
+matter of religion.  Hulver was a Roman Catholic.  Maria belonged to
+the English Church.  He made an effort to bring her over to his side,
+but she stood firm; and sooner than lose so desirable a partner he
+joined her Church.  They were very happy, but unfortunately he did not
+live long, and for the third time she was widowed.  After his death she
+found life very dull.  She determined to take a situation as
+housekeeper and advertised in one of the big Indian daily newspapers.
+
+Eola Wenaston, who came out with her brother on his appointment as
+Principal of the College of Chirapore, saw the advertisement and
+engaged her.  The arrangement proved highly satisfactory to both.
+During Dr. and Miss Wenaston's six months' holiday in England Mrs.
+Hulver occupied one of her own houses at Bangalore.  The enforced
+idleness was not at all to her mind, and she welcomed their return with
+unmixed joy.
+
+In her holiday she replenished her wardrobe by the aid of a tailor.
+The new muslins and white drill frocks were cut exactly on the old
+pattern--a skirt that gave plenty of room and spread like a bell over
+her feet; a bodice that showed no fashionable bulge in sleeve or
+shoulder but confined her figure decently and comfortably.  White linen
+collar and cuffs and neatly fastened waistband completed her daily
+costume.  On Sunday Mrs. Hulver was another person.  Her silks "stood
+alone," as she herself expressed it; and the flowers of her bonnet
+would have covered half a market stall had they been real.
+
+Mrs. Hulver stood on the top step under the large portico, her clean
+white skirt extended with starch, her hands folded and a severe
+expression on her face.  Ramachetty, the butler, a middle-aged
+under-sized native with an apologetic manner, fidgeted behind her in
+evident discomfort.  She addressed him in English over her shoulder.
+The native tongue was perfectly familiar; it had been her own in her
+mother's house; but she chose English as being more in keeping with her
+dignity as a housekeeper and it assisted to maintain her character as
+an Englishwoman, which she was not.
+
+"Call the gardener," she said, with a clear enunciation and very little
+Eurasian accent.  From her father and two of her husbands she had
+picked up a curious mixture of expressions.
+
+Probably the summons was expected; for the gardener appeared from
+behind the bungalow with the abruptness of a jack-in-the-box.
+
+"Tell him to bring the pots of roses here."
+
+Out came a fat forefinger that pointed to the spot and remained
+pointing.  Ignoring the fact that the gardener understood English the
+butler translated the order into the language of the country.  The man
+hurried away, and by the aid of an assistant brought twelve large pots
+of roses.  They were solemnly placed in a row under the portico on the
+spot to which the finger pointed.  Seven of the plants bore double pink
+blossoms.  The remaining five had crimson flowers of the kind known as
+the China rose, a stock upon which the Indian gardener buds the better
+class of plant.  There was an ominous silence during which Mrs. Hulver
+looked from the roses to the gardener and back again at the roses.
+Then she spoke.
+
+"Two years ago our missie bought twelve pink _France_ roses with a
+sweet smell.  How is it that five of them have turned red and lost
+their smell."
+
+The gardener chattered fast in his own tongue.  He explained that
+during the absence in England of the master and the missie there had
+been strange kind of weather.  The weather had poisoned the flowers and
+made them turn colour and lose their scent.  This preposterous
+statement was too much for Mrs. Hulver's dignified patience.  She
+abandoned her high-class English and let herself go in the native
+tongue.
+
+How dared he tell her such a tale!  Whoever heard of the weather
+changing the colour of flowers?  Was it the rain or the sun?  It was
+neither; the mischief was done in the night, stoutly maintained the
+gardener.  Then, as she kept an incredulous silence, he asked
+querulously, if it was any stranger than that carriages should run
+along the road without horses, and messages be sent without messengers.
+Were the English to be the only wonder-workers?  Could not the gods of
+India----?  She cut him short.  While he chattered she had framed her
+line of conduct.
+
+"There is no wonder about the business except that the master keeps
+such a budmash on the premises.  If the plants had been properly
+watered and tended in the master's absence, the weather would not have
+affected them.  It is only neglected plants that are affected by bad
+weather."  She paused to allow her grey eye to rest upon him; and he
+shifted uneasily from one foot to the other under her scrutiny.  "Do
+you hear, gardener?  They must be nursed back to their proper
+condition.  There will be a fine of one rupee for each pot.  As soon as
+they recover, the fine will be returned; but until the twelve roses
+bear proper double pink flowers with full, good smell the money will be
+stopped out of your pay.  Each pay-day before giving the wages I shall
+come and look at the roses."
+
+The fat finger was withdrawn.  Mrs. Hulver turned slowly round and
+sailed back into the bungalow.
+
+"What were you scolding the gardener for?" asked Eola, after she left
+the breakfast-room and sought the house-keeper to consult with her on
+the day's menu.
+
+"I had to talk to him, miss.  He has been misbehaving himself while I
+have been away.  Five of those _France_ roses that you are so fond of
+are missing, and China plants put in their places."
+
+"My beautiful _La France_ roses gone!" cried Eola, with regret.  "I
+suppose he let them die by neglecting to water and has put others in
+the pots thinking we should not discover the loss."
+
+"Not he! the spalpeen!  He has changed them--sold the good ones and
+stolen some common plants to fill up with."
+
+"What did he say for himself when you accused him of it?"
+
+"That's just what I didn't do miss; I took care not to make any
+accusation.  As William--that was my second--used to say, 'Think all
+you like but keep your thoughts to yourself if you want to get even
+with a bad man.'  I kept my thoughts to myself; and when the gardener
+had the impudence to tell me that the weather had turned the roses from
+pink to red, I said that if he didn't nurse them back to their right
+colour you would fine him.  They will all return," she continued
+confidently; "You will have your dozen favourites in a few weeks' time."
+
+Eola was accustomed to Mrs. Hulver's methods of ruling the
+establishment, and knew better than to interfere, although she did not
+approve of mulcting her servants of their pay.
+
+"Supposing he has sold them; what will you do then?"
+
+"He'll steal them back or buy them back for a small sum.  Trust him for
+finding out a way to save himself from a big fine such as we shall
+insist on!  As William--that was my first--used to say (he was
+country-born and knew the native): 'Give them a chance of straightening
+things, and they'll do it as soon as they know that you've found them
+out; and they will respect you all the more for obliging them to be
+honest.'"
+
+"If the gardener is dishonest perhaps it would be better to dismiss him
+and get another."
+
+"Gardeners in these parts go with the houses; and like husbands you've
+got to put up with them.  Besides, it is my experience that you may
+change and change, whether it's a servant or a husband, and find
+yourself no better off and no worse off in the end, provided you don't
+have extraordinary bad luck.  They're as like in their separate ways,
+both servants and husbands, as the cocoanut trees.  The only difference
+you can see in the cocoanut trees is the way they stand.  One will lean
+to one side and another to the other side, and no two will lean just
+alike.  As William--that was my third--(he was born in Ireland) used to
+say: 'Maria, me dear!  God made us men as we are; and if it weren't for
+the trials that we bring ye, ye'd just grow yer wings and fly away; and
+then, bedad! where should we poor men be widout ye?'  He had a nice
+pleasant way with him, but it was balanced by his fondness for drink;
+for _that_ was the way he leaned."
+
+Eola brought the conversation back to the business of the morning and
+began to discuss the lunch and dinner.  Ramachetty and the cook were
+called, and the orders for the day given.  She sat down at her writing
+table and entered the daily marketing account in the book kept for that
+purpose.  The butler stood at her elbow on the right and Mrs. Hulver
+took up her position on the left.  There was never any deviation from
+this little domestic ritual.
+
+The butler proceeded with his list of purchases; firewood, ghee,
+soup-meat, mutton, potatoes, fish, eggs, naming the price of each.
+Once Mrs. Hulver coughed, and he corrected himself, taking off half an
+anna.  At another item she moved from one foot to the other, but
+remained silent.  He paused, and as the warning note of the cough was
+not sounded, he passed on to the next entry, letting the overcharge,
+which was very small, stand.
+
+"Carrots, two annas," he continued.
+
+"Carrots!" ejaculated Mrs. Hulver sharply.
+
+"Carrots, two annas," repeated the butler, sticking manfully to his
+story.
+
+"Fetch them!"
+
+The cook who was waiting behind the butler ran off to the kitchen and
+returned with four limp dry roots which he exhibited with many
+misgivings.
+
+"Six-day-old carrots," commented Mrs. Hulver, with fine scorn.  "They
+were entered in the account last Friday.  Cross off 'carrots, two
+annas,' please, miss."
+
+The butler accepted the correction without another word, and proceeded
+to the end of his list.  Eola would willingly have dispensed with some
+of the details, but Mrs. Hulver was inexorable.
+
+"It must be done, miss," she had said in reply.  "As long as you can
+hold a pen you must take down the daily account.  If by any chance you
+were ill then I should be obliged to do it; but Ramachetty and I shall
+remain better friends if I have nothing to do with the bookkeeping."
+
+"You have something to do with it, Mrs. Hulver.  You check his attempts
+at cheating."
+
+"I keep them down to reasonable proportions.  As William--that was my
+second (he was a very straight-minded man)--used to say: 'Keep others
+honest and they'll keep you up to the mark.'"
+
+When the accounts were finished and the butler and cook dismissed, Eola
+turned to her housekeeper.
+
+"Mrs. Hulver!" she said.
+
+"Yes, miss."
+
+There was a slight pause, during which Eola turned back again to the
+writing-table.  The pen was still in her hand and wet with ink.  In
+absence of mind she dotted the margin of the account book, her thoughts
+far away.
+
+"Yes, miss," repeated Mrs. Hulver, whose grey eyes searched Eola's face.
+
+"Ah! yes!  What was I going to say?  Oh!  I know.  I wanted to tell you
+that we have a visitor coming."
+
+Mrs. Hulver was not so easily deceived.  Miss Wenaston had not
+forgotten the subject of her communication, and the news she was about
+to impart was no news to her housekeeper.
+
+"Who is it?" asked Mrs. Hulver, innocently.
+
+"Dr. Wenaston has invited Mr. Alderbury to come and stay here a few
+days.  He has business in Chirapore.  Will you see to the spare room.
+I brought out new curtains and chintz to re-cover the sofa and chairs.
+Set the dirzee to work at once."
+
+"It shall be begun this very day.  I was only thinking about it
+yesterday afternoon when I came in from the town.  It's more than a
+month since you came back, miss; and those curtains have been lying by
+ever since you unpacked them.  As William--that was my first--used to
+say (he was a great man for show, being a Eurasian and a good deal
+darker than me): 'When you've got fine feathers, don't hide them.'
+What brought the spare room to my mind was Mr. Alderbury's name.  I
+heard that it would be likely that he would be coming to Chirapore
+before long."
+
+"Did you?" asked Eola, looking round at her housekeeper in surprise.
+"I suppose you heard it in the bazaar.  I don't know how these things
+get about, but in this country nothing is sacred from bazaar gossip.
+What do they say?"
+
+"The business of the Reverend Mr. Alderbury is connected with Ananda,
+the son of Pantulu Iyer, a rich native of this town.  Perhaps you know
+the story.  If so, I'd better be going as there is lots to be done this
+morning, and the dirzee is never in the way when he is wanted."
+
+Mrs. Hulver spoke with an injured tone and a misjudged expression on
+her smooth round olive face.  She was an inveterate gossip, and her
+visits to the shops and market were prompted as much by curiosity to
+hear the news as to verify the butler's charges.  Nothing hurt her more
+than to imply a knowledge of this weakness.
+
+She had a little sitting-room that opened into the back verandah.  The
+door was seldom shut in the daytime.  From a point of vantage in the
+doorway she superintended the tailor, and kept an eye on all that went
+on in the back verandah.  She made as though she would seek her room
+with as little delay as possible.  Eola, repentant that she had hurt
+her feelings by remarks about the bazaar gossip, softened in her manner
+and begged to hear the news.
+
+"Do tell me, Mrs. Hulver, what they say.  I have not heard anything
+except that Mr. Alderbury is coming by the Doctor's invitation.  My
+brother only spoke of his visit this morning when he received Mr.
+Alderbury's reply to the invitation.  The Principal was late in getting
+home from his ride, and had to hurry over breakfast to be in College in
+time."
+
+The housekeeper was mollified and the dirzee forgotten in her eagerness
+to relate the news that was already thrilling the town.
+
+"The story goes in the bazaar that Pantulu's son has turned Christian,
+and the whole family is in a great taking about it.  They don't know
+what to do."
+
+"Is that all?  There is nothing much in that.  Of course it is a good
+thing when a native becomes a Christian; but in these days it is not a
+matter to make a fuss about."
+
+Mrs. Hulver regarded her seriously.  She had expected to create
+something of a sensation by the announcement, but Eola took it as a
+trifle hardly worth mention.
+
+"Begging your pardon, miss, there is a great deal in it to create a
+fuss; and what is more the whole town is working itself up into a
+ferment over it.  They say that they have never had a caste man go
+Christian before.  The Christians have always been pariahs and they
+have no caste to matter.  As William--that was my third--used to say:
+'Change your clothes; change your food; change your house if you like;
+but to change your religion is the very divil;' and he knew; for he'd
+been a Roman Catholic and he turned Protestant to marry me."
+
+"How did you manage to persuade him?" asked Eola, her mind once more
+adrift.
+
+Mrs. Hulver was always ready to talk incidentally of her late spouses.
+At the same time she never lost sight of the subject that caused the
+digression.
+
+"He wanted me to change my religion; but I was firm.  I told him that
+if he couldn't take me as I was he might go without me.  I could get on
+without him.  Besides it was only right that he should be the one to
+change, being the gentleman; it is the gentleman that ought to give way
+to the lady all the world over."
+
+"And he fell in with your suggestion?"
+
+"It was the bit of property that did it, though he didn't admit it,"
+replied Mrs. Hulver confidently, the shrewdness of her Scotch ancestry
+peeping out.  "He was drawn to me by two strings, myself for one, and
+my little fortune for the other.  As William--that was my first, him
+that left me the property--used to say: 'It's money that gives you the
+pull when the balance is even.'  But as I was telling you; this son of
+Pantulu Iyer has gone and changed his religion and stirred up a bees'
+nest of buzzing in the town."
+
+"Was it Mr. Alderbury's doing?"
+
+"No; he had nothing to say in the matter; it was all done without his
+knowledge.  Pantulu sent his son to England to finish his education;
+and while he was there, so the tale goes, he saw a very bad accident.
+One of these elevators, these flying men," she explained, as she noted
+a puzzled expression on Eola's face, "fell at his very feet and struck
+down his friend, a native gentleman who was walking with him."  Already
+the story had gathered fiction in its passage from mouth to mouth.
+"The elevator was killed on the spot; but the friend had time to make a
+last request, and it was that Ananda should become a Christian.  He
+never said a word to his people, but got it done on the quiet and
+registered and everything.  It gave his father a terrible shock; it
+nearly killed the poor old gentleman when his son came back and told
+him what had happened.  He is a very rich man and would give a crore of
+rupees to have the mischief undone.  But as William--that was my
+second--used to say: 'Mind your doing, because as a rule there's no
+undoing.'  In this case there can't be any undoing.  Once a Christian
+always a Christian, unless you want to burn."
+
+"I remember Ananda and his friends in London," said Eola, "I was at
+that very meeting and saw the man fall.  Coomara was not killed by the
+aviator, but in a railway accident as he was returning to town."
+
+"Anyway he was killed," replied Mrs. Hulver.  "His death affected his
+friend and made him feel so bad that he turned Christian.  The poor
+young man is having a very rough time with his people.  They are
+determined to knock the Christianity out of him; and it will be a
+pretty stiff fight if he has any spirit.  It is said in the bazaar that
+Mr. Alderbury is coming in from the district to see if he can smooth
+matters down a bit.  As William--that was my third--used to say: 'Let's
+have peace if it's possible; but if it must be war, let's fight to the
+finish! and make it a good one!'"
+
+"He didn't practice what he preached; he gave in," remarked Eola,
+unable to resist poking fun at her devoted housekeeper.
+
+Mrs. Hulver smiled broadly, and was quite ready with her answer.
+
+"You see, miss, there was the lady in the case, meaning me, I can't
+deny but what William, my third, found the change of religion
+troublesome.  It meant new habits and a new grip of the thing.  He was
+never satisfied, and always had the feeling that he had played the
+turncoat.  The trouble was at Christmas time when his weakness overtook
+him.  His leaning was towards whisky, being an Irishman.  It was
+expensive whilst it lasted.  As William--that was my second--used to
+say (he was a teetotaller): 'One vice will cost more than twenty
+virtues.'  In his old religion my third used to go to his priest when
+the fit was over, and get square with himself by a proper penance; but
+when he changed he didn't quite know where he was with himself."
+
+"You should have made him give it up altogether," suggested Eola.
+
+"It was born and bred in him, and he couldn't have given it up to save
+his life.  As William--that was my first--used to say when I complained
+of his Eurasian ways: 'You mustn't expect a wild goose to lay a tame
+egg.'  William my third could no more help being weak at Christmas than
+a child can help over-eating itself."
+
+"Didn't it worry you to have him break out?"
+
+"No, I don't know that it did," replied Mrs. Hulver, placidly.  "It had
+its advantage.  As William--that was my first--used to say when he and
+his contractor settled their accounts: 'Everything has its advantage if
+you know where to look for it.'"
+
+"What advantage could your husband's bout of drinking have for you?"
+asked Eola, glancing at her in mild wonder.
+
+"It gave me my chance of speaking.  When he recovered and could listen
+to reason, even though his poor head ached badly, I had the opportunity
+of letting him have a bit of my mind, and of telling him some home
+truths I never could have put before him at any other time.  Now with
+William, my second, it was different.  He was always ready to come up
+to attention at a moment's notice.  Stiff and straight, he lived by
+rule; and the whole time I was with him I never once got the chance of
+emptying my mind."  Her voice had a distinct ring of regret in it as
+she made the confession.  "I tried it two or three times; but the
+moment I began he rose from his chair and drew himself up haughty and
+proud, just like his colonel when the men came to the orderly room with
+their complaints.  He heard what I had to say in a dead silence, that
+sort of cooled you down, and all he replied was: 'I'll look into the
+matter, Maria, and see what can be done;' and there it ended.  With
+William, my third, it was a real pleasure to rate him.  He was such a
+gentleman in his repentance and his apologies.  But as I was telling
+you, miss, about this poor young man, Pantulu Iyer's son.  I can
+sympathise with him in his change of religion as I sympathised with
+William, my third.  It will take some time before he will get even with
+himself in his new faith."
+
+"The cases are not on all fours, Mrs. Hulver."
+
+"No; they are at sixes and sevens if all I hear is true.  As
+William--that was my second--used to say: 'Keep things straight and
+you'll be master; but let them get at sixes and sevens and they will
+master you.'  He made a great study of his fellowmen and was full of
+wise sayings.  I felt very lonely when he died."
+
+"What did he die of?"
+
+"Microscopes; the doctor said he swallowed some when he was out route"
+(she called it rowte) "marching.  They were in the water that he drank
+by the roadside.  They gave him fever which carried him off in three
+weeks, and left me a widow for the second time."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+There was one subject alone on which Miss Wenaston and her housekeeper
+disagreed.  It had nothing to do with the management of the house.  It
+was marriage.
+
+Mrs. Hulver having entered the bonds of matrimony three times
+considered that she was entitled to speak with authority on the
+condition of wifehood and widowhood.
+
+Eola Wenaston was twenty-seven years of age and unmarried.  When Mrs.
+Hulver had reached that number of years she had been a wife for a
+decade, and had entered upon her first period of widowhood.  Although a
+British father had done much to form her character, her Eurasian mother
+had instilled certain opinions to which she firmly adhered.  One fixed
+belief, as strong as any article of her faith, was that every woman
+ought to be married.  It was the duty of relatives and guardians to
+forward that end; it was even still more the duty of the woman herself
+to attract and secure the best husband available without immodesty.
+
+Miss Wenaston she found sadly wanting in self-help.  Dr. Wenaston, her
+brother, was a very busy and sometimes overworked man.  He did his best
+in Mrs. Hulver's opinion when he invited men to his house.  His
+efforts, conscious or unconscious--Mrs. Hulver was not sure which--were
+not supported as they should have been by his sister.  She made no
+attempt to attract in dress or manner.  She was content to wear the
+same dinner-dress that served when she and her brother were alone; and
+she did not hesitate to allow Dr. Wenaston to absorb all the
+conversation if he chose, remaining silent through the dinner and
+perhaps through the whole evening as well.  This was altogether a
+mistake, as Mrs. Hulver tried in vain to point out more than once.
+Eola listened in perfect good nature, but her replies were not
+encouraging, and the housekeeper was vaguely conscious that she was
+being kept in her place.  She persevered however, and never lost an
+opportunity of putting in a word as far as she dared; but she always
+felt that there was a barrier that she might not pass.
+
+A certain Major Ellingham appeared at Chirapore on his way to a
+shooting expedition in the Western Ghats.  He was entertained by Dr.
+Wenaston for a week while the camping preparations were made.  Mrs.
+Hulver devoted her attention to the catering; and with the assistance
+of Ramachetty and the cook sent in such meals as elicited the guest's
+warm approval.  In the evening as she sat in her wicker-chair by the
+open door of her sitting-room, she smiled as she heard the strains of
+the piano, and Ellingham's fine baritone in "Love's old sweet song," or
+some such melody.
+
+Nothing came of it, however; and the guest departed as heart-whole as
+he left Eola herself.  Mrs. Hulver's even temperament was ruffled by a
+wave of annoyance as she thought of the enhanced bazaar account and all
+the trouble she had been put to in devising dainty cooking.  One
+morning she ventured to suggest to Miss Wenaston that Major Ellingham
+would make a good husband.  Eola agreed readily enough.
+
+"Probably he will pick up some nice girl by and by, when his head is
+less full of shooting big game," she said indifferently.
+
+"He is not the man to care for a young girl, miss.  I take it from his
+appearance and general bearing that when he makes his choice, it will
+fall on a lady with some experience of the world, like yourself and
+about your own age."
+
+Eola laughed outright and Mrs. Hulver was hurt.  A joke she could
+understand, but ridicule was like a red hot iron, and she shrank into
+herself.  Eola saw that her mirth gave offence, and she hastened to
+soothe and make amends.
+
+"You need have no fear, Mrs. Hulver.  He doesn't take my fancy, nor do
+I take his; so there is no likelihood of your losing me."
+
+"It's not that, miss, which troubles me," the housekeeper explained.
+"Gladly would I see you go as I went myself to the arms of a husband.
+It's the proper place for every right-minded woman.  As William----"
+
+Eola interrupted her with another laugh that she found impossible to
+repress.
+
+"You and I don't agree on the subject of marriage and never shall.  I
+am single and you were very much married----"
+
+Mrs. Hulver bridled and broke in upon her speech with some indignation.
+
+"Indeed, miss!  I was no more married than I ought to have been.  To
+have been less married with my three husbands wouldn't have been
+respectable.  And I am sure it has helped me along; I should have been
+a poor thing without it.  As William--that was my second--used to say:
+'Humble wedlock is better than proud singleness.  Marriage is like a
+good pair of boots to a woman.  It will carry her through fair weather
+and foul.  If the boots wear out before their time the best thing to do
+is to get another pair.'  He talked like that when I was hesitating
+about taking him.  It was not the man himself that made me doubt but
+the way he leaned.  It was all towards truth and honesty."
+
+"You are truthful and honest, Mrs. Hulver," protested Eola.  "Don't say
+you are not or you won't be doing yourself justice."
+
+"I have always shrunk from lies and thieving," admitted Mrs. Hulver.
+"I never could stoop to low conduct of any kind.  But there is truth
+and truth.  As William--that was my third--used to say when I gave him
+a talking to: 'Lay it on mild, me dear.  Truth is like a mustard
+plaster.  It may be very good for the patient but you've got to be
+careful how you apply it or you may hurt your best friend more than a
+little.'  What troubled me was whether I could live up to the standard
+of my second."
+
+"You might have been happier if you had not married him," said Eola,
+with a twinkle in her eye, as she controlled her lips.
+
+"I couldn't have been happy alone with nothing to live up to and no one
+to tend.  I chanced it and found it quite easy.  All I had to be
+careful about was to prevent anything from coming to his knowledge that
+was not up to his mark.  I soon got used to keeping things smooth; and
+there was never a married man happier than my second."
+
+The thought of her success as William the second's wife restored her
+tranquillity of mind, and she left Eola to go about her duties in her
+usual contented frame of mind.
+
+An Assistant Resident was the next person who all unconsciously
+fluttered Mrs. Hulver's hopes, raising them with regard to Eola only to
+dash them to the ground again.  It so happened that a man came to act
+for six months whilst the permanent Assistant Resident was away on
+leave.  He was unmarried, musical, and a great reader.  Inclination and
+compatability of tastes often brought him to the college either to
+discuss new writers with Dr. Wenaston, or to try over new music with
+Eola.
+
+Once more Mrs. Hulver concentrated her attention and energy on culinary
+matters.  She had not been the chosen partner of three husbands without
+discovering how great a factor the food question is in the life of a
+man.  She was able to quote from the sayings of all three on the
+subject.  The Assistant Resident ate such dinners at the college house
+as he never forgot; but the way to his heart in his case was not
+through the stomach.  Over the music and books he made a certain amount
+of progress; and had he seen any response to encourage him, he might
+have fallen into the belief that Eola was the one desirable woman in
+the world for him; but there was no such encouragement.  At the end of
+six months he went away; and it was Mrs. Hulver's heart, not Eola's,
+that sank in despair.
+
+"Mr. Fressenden will miss you and the Doctor, miss," remarked Mrs.
+Hulver, austerely, the morning after his departure.  "You have been
+very hospitable to him."
+
+"I daresay he will," was the indifferent reply.
+
+"He should get married.  An Assistant Resident has to receive a lot of
+company; and a house without a woman at the head makes a poor show."
+
+"Our present Assistant has a very nice wife."
+
+"It's a wonder that Mr. Fressenden doesn't follow his example."
+
+"He will find a wife in time," replied Eola, as she added up the column
+of figures given her by the butler that morning.  "I make it half an
+anna less than Ramachetty.  I must go over it again."
+
+"He had better not be too long about finding a wife," continued Mrs.
+Hulver, determined not to let the subject drop till she had had her
+say.  "If a man waits too long he ages in looks and manners, and he is
+not taken for himself.  He may think that he is, for God deals out
+vanity with a liberal hand when a boy is born.  But with a middle-aged
+man there are other considerations at the back of a woman's mind
+besides love; like houses, for instance."  She broke off shortly with a
+little laugh.  "It tells on both sides for that matter.  If
+William--that was my first--hadn't had a little property behind him, my
+mother would never have chosen him for her daughter with his dark
+complexion."
+
+"Was he very much darker?  After all I think Ramachetty is right, and
+that it is my mistake not his."
+
+"He was quite four shades darker than me; some people might have said
+it was five; but that was his age.  Being older than me he showed it
+more."
+
+"Yes, the butler has added it up correctly," said Eola, laying down her
+pen.  "You were telling me about your first husband.  It must have been
+a drawback to have had him darker than yourself."
+
+"I am not so sure, miss, that it wasn't an advantage.  William knew
+that he was blacker than me by several shades, and that I was his
+superior in European descent.  Both his parents were Eurasians.  With
+me it was only on one side, my mother's.  That being so he never dared
+to cheek me or speak disrespectfully as country-born people are apt to
+do when they lose their tempers.  It's a very powerful thing in our
+sex, is the tongue.  I'm sure I don't know what we poor women would do
+without it.  As William--that was my third--used to say: 'The tongue is
+a wonderful thing, Maria, me dear!  It may be as sweet as sugar; or
+sharp as a lime; or as stinging as red pepper.'  He used to add that
+the devil himself loosened Eve's tongue for her when she took the
+apple, knowing that she would have no chance with ould Adam unless she
+had that advantage."
+
+Yet a third prospective husband, in Mrs. Hulver's opinion, appeared in
+the person of an executive engineer in the service of Government.  He
+was highly favoured by the housekeeper since Delaine, her first
+husband, had been a subordinate in that same service.  With renewed
+hope she flung herself into the campaign, and left nothing undone in
+the commissariat department that might propitiate and lead on a
+faltering suitor.
+
+It was all to no purpose.  He departed like the other two without
+speaking; and Mrs. Hulver in her vexation could not refrain from
+unburdening herself on the subject at the first opportunity.
+
+"When a man in the Public Works Department gets to be an executive
+engineer he ought to have a wife.  Mr. Fearing is just throwing away
+his opportunities by keeping single.  He seems such a nice gentleman,
+too.  There ought to be no difficulty."
+
+"Except that perhaps marriage has no attraction for him," suggested
+Eola.
+
+Mrs. Hulver stared at her in sheer unbelief.  The man or woman sound in
+mind and body who did not desire marriage in the abstract was
+unthinkable.  Choice was another matter; many an individual deferred
+making his choice for reasons that might be good or indifferent, but
+were sufficient all the same.  It was impossible in her opinion that
+any one could look upon the estate of matrimony as undesirable.
+
+"Begging your pardon, miss, if I may be so bold as to say so, I don't
+think either you or your brother know much about marriage.  Your minds
+have not been brought to bear upon it.  As William--that was my
+second--used to say: 'Thoughts are like guns; they are no use until
+they are trained on an object.'  You haven't had an occasion to train
+yours yet on to marriage.  Now in my case they've been trained all my
+life on matrimony, and I can speak with knowledge and experience.  If a
+man tells you that he doesn't want to get married, you may take it that
+either he can't get the woman he wants, or he hasn't made his choice.
+If a girl tells you that she doesn't want to get married--"  Mrs.
+Hulver actually panted with indignation at the mere thought of
+it--"She's--she's--well! she's a liar--at least she is in this country."
+
+Eola's light laugh was the only reply to such an assertion, and Mrs.
+Hulver took herself off to her sanctum at the back of the house with
+the nearest approach to wrath in her placid good nature she was capable
+of feeling.
+
+Then Bernard Alderbury appeared on the scene, causing Mrs. Hulver doubt
+and perturbation of mind.  He was a vigorous worker in the ranks of one
+of the large Church of England missionary societies, a strenuous parson
+who held a charmed life against the many evils prowling in his field of
+labour.  He seemed immune to the effects of bad water, coarse food,
+poisonous mosquitoes and a tropical sun.  His exemption was not
+obtained by disregard of the conditions of Indian life up-country.  On
+the contrary he observed the greatest care in safe-guarding himself by
+the use of such appliances as science provided.  He took the minimum
+risk and the maximum care and forethought.  Aided by a magnificent
+constitution and an endless store of confidence and hope that killed
+depression, he preserved the health and good spirits so essential to
+his particular work.
+
+Wenaston and Alderbury were old college friends.  When the missionary
+spirit threw its mantle over the latter, Wenaston, by no means an
+irreligious man, did his best to persuade the other from--as he put
+it--throwing himself away on the colonies and hiding his light under a
+bushel.  A man of his abilities and private means should have different
+aspirations.
+
+Alderbury received the advice in his light-hearted manner, and assured
+his friend that going to India as a missionary would prove his own
+salvation and keep him out of the morasses of modern thought and
+controversy.
+
+"I must fight some one," said Alderbury.  "I don't want civil war; I
+want an enemy outside the pale of Mother Church.  Hinduism seems to me
+the very thing, a noble and worthy foe; an ancient faith, a marvellous
+system of philosophy with a crafty degenerate priesthood.  Doesn't the
+mere thought of it stir your blood and make you tingle to be up and
+fighting?  Grafting upon the obsolete creed something infinitely
+better, a glorious oriental Christ, soul-satisfying and sufficient, Who
+will lift India's millions into a fresher and purer atmosphere of life
+and thought."
+
+Wenaston glanced at the shining eyes turned upon him in enthusiasm as
+he would have looked at the symptoms of an obscure disease.  It was a
+thing he could neither understand nor account for; but some instinct
+made him hold his peace.  If the man was right, well and good; if he
+proved wrong, he would find it out for himself.  He forbore to comment
+or to combat the new resolve.  Alderbury pursued the course he had
+mapped out for himself, and in due time went to India.
+
+Wenaston continued the student and developed into the school-master.
+When a vacancy occurred in the college of Chirapore he was asked if he
+would accept it.  Until that moment he had not thought of going to the
+East.  His sister, who had a great desire to see India, added her
+weight to inclination, and he decided to take the appointment.
+
+Once more the two friends met, and Alderbury rejoiced in the renewal of
+their intimacy; for among other facts he learned that none pressed more
+heavily upon him than the loneliness of the missionary's life, its
+isolation and the complete absence of congenial companionship.  Under
+the circumstances it was not to be wondered at that he never lost an
+opportunity in his missionary itineration of spending a few days with
+the Doctor and his sister.  It was a little out of his way, but that
+did not matter.  The holiday was the more complete since there was no
+duty within reach.  The missions he superintended were in British
+territory, beyond the borders of the native state.  He would have
+established work of some sort in Chirapore, but he was not encouraged
+to do so by his society nor by the Government of the State.  The
+society already had more than enough irons in the fire with an open
+field in British India clamouring for yet more workers.  But Alderbury
+could never visit his friend without casting envious glances at the big
+classes of boys assembled in the college hall.  He would dearly have
+liked a free hand on the platforms of the classrooms; however this was
+not permissible.  One of the conditions attached to the appointment of
+Principal was that there should be no attempt at proselytising; a
+condition to which Wenaston easily subscribed, since he had not even a
+spark of missionary enthusiasm.
+
+Eola was of her brother's way of thinking.  She too looked at
+Alderbury's work with something like detached curiosity.  His energy,
+his whole-hearted desire to see India Christianised, his indefatigable
+and unceasing sacrifice of self, appealed to the instinctive
+hero-worship that is implanted in every woman's breast; but though she
+could wonder and admire and was insensibly drawn by his personality,
+she could not understand the fascination that held him to his chosen
+profession.
+
+As for Mrs. Hulver she had her own reasons for disapproving of his
+visits, and it had nothing to do with his missionary zeal.
+Nevertheless she did not fail to provide a table worthy of her master's
+position.  The food was substantial rather than recherché, nourishing
+rather than dainty.  She had formed some fixed opinions upon the
+subject of missionaries generally; they were deeply rooted and
+unalterable.  As a class missionaries required feeding up; their
+wardrobes needed the services of the dirzee to mend and patch and darn.
+She was puzzled more than a little when she found that Alderbury paid
+no particular attention to the food, and ate sparingly, with a distinct
+inclination towards daintiness.  As for his wardrobe it was in better
+condition in some respects and needed less attention than the Doctor's.
+Not a sock required darning; not a coat needed stitching; and what was
+more, his clothes were not only new and none the worse for wear, but
+they were of the best and finest description.  The pay of a missionary
+was known to be of narrow proportions, leaving no margin for luxury.
+It did not seem fit and proper in her eyes that he should be better
+dressed than his host.  That he possessed anything besides his salary
+did not enter Mrs. Hulver's head; because if he had private means he
+never would have come to India as a missionary; he would have adopted
+the military service and been an officer in the army.
+
+Alderbury came and went at his own convenience, never announcing his
+proposed visit by more than a day or two, and never prolonging it
+beyond the two or three nights, which gave him at least one complete
+day's rest, so essential sometimes to the worker for whom Sunday is the
+busiest day of the week.  How intensely the man enjoyed that day his
+hosts had little suspicion.  Whether he discussed the latest theory in
+science or religion with Wenaston, or the latest novel with Eola, it
+was all pure happiness unclouded by a single anxiety.
+
+Mrs. Hulver was the only person who was disturbed.  The laughter of the
+happy trio awoke no sympathetic joy in her.  She was relieved when she
+heard only the low tone of the masculine voices, indicating that Miss
+Wenaston was taking no part in the conversation.  It was fortunate for
+her peace of mind that she could not see Eola's eyes dwelling on the
+long figure extended in the cane lounge placed between her own easy
+chair and her brother's; nor how she watched him when, carried away by
+excitement, he pulled himself forward and even sprang to his feet the
+better to emphasise what he had to say.  As he stood before them,
+speaking to the Doctor, but often turning his deepset eyes upon Eola,
+the girl thought of St. Paul.  By what mysterious force was he driven?
+What fire was it that kindled in his eyes as he talked and made him
+look different from any other man she had known?  The Indian world as
+she knew it was very peaceful; the people of the native State of
+Chirakul were notorious for their content and for the absence of all
+sedition and unrest.  Yet to hear him talk one might be brought to the
+belief that it was not a peaceful model native state, but an enemy's
+land, a field for a deadly battle with a worthy foe.
+
+Alderbury passed out of their little world as suddenly as he came in,
+leaving them slumberous and quiescent.  Eola missed him, but Mrs.
+Hulver indulged in a sigh of relief.  Much as she desired to see Eola
+married she drew a rigid line at missionaries.  Not that missionaries
+should be debarred from marriage.  On the contrary, a wife was more
+needful in the mission house than anywhere else.  But the missionary's
+wife belonged, in her opinion, to quite another class.  She did not
+know where the wives were bred.  They were endowed with many admirable
+virtues, and were eminently suited to be helpers to their worthy
+husbands in proselytising among the heathen; but of one thing she was
+sure; there was a wide difference between them and Miss Wenaston.
+Their rambling bungalows had a certain amount of plain solid comfort
+about them; and they made the best of the country fare that their
+limited salaries obliged them to buy, but there was nothing dainty in
+either dress or food or furniture.
+
+The large compounds in which their dwellings were placed contained
+outbuildings where the natives gathered for instruction; both bungalow
+and compound were haunted with mild-looking converts in white muslin;
+their happy faces an indication that Christianity and the pastoral
+supervision of the missionary agreed with them.
+
+On the other hand who ever heard of a missionary's wife being invited
+to the Presidency town to take a share in social festivities?  Who ever
+saw, asked Mrs. Hulver, with raised eyebrows, "a missionary's lady" at
+a race meet or at a Government House ball?  Miss Wenaston belonged to
+the class that welcomed Viceroys and figured at races and balls.  Thus
+it happened that after some of these flying visits Mrs. Hulver had
+remarks to make.
+
+"Missionaries are very good sort of people in their way.  I often
+wonder how they can keep it up."
+
+"Keep what up?" asked Eola, mystified.
+
+"Their spirits and their belief that they are doing these natives good."
+
+"Of course they are doing good, Mrs. Hulver," said Eola, as if she were
+slightly shocked.  The half-formed doubt occasionally slipped unbidden
+into her own mind but she had never put it into words.
+
+"I didn't say that they were not doing good.  I left it open.  As
+William--that was my first--used to say when the native overseers had
+too big a grasp on the profits: 'You can't wash a crow white nor expect
+anything of him but a croak.'  It's the thought of the millions and
+millions of heathen in India that is apt to stagger one.  It's like
+trying to empty a tank with a teaspoon.  However, as William--that was
+my second--used to say when I was down-hearted about the way anything
+was going: 'You lay your brick and lay it sound and leave the rest to
+others.  No man ever built a church steeple all by himself and yet old
+England is full of churches and steeples.'  Anyway, I shouldn't like to
+be a missionary's wife.  I could dress up to it; I could feed up to it;
+but I couldn't stand the converts trapesing through the compound and
+hanging about the verandahs.  I shouldn't feel as if the house belonged
+to me."
+
+"Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary to have them there," suggested Eola,
+who read between the lines with secret amusement.
+
+"Oh! yes, it would; it's their reward; their right," replied Mrs.
+Hulver with conviction.  "Any lady that's suitable to be a missionary's
+wife makes no objection; but she must be, so to speak, born to it.
+It's not a job that would suit you, miss.  As William--that was my
+third--said when he heard that the Chaplain was going to marry the
+Colonel's daughter: 'If the church mouse takes the field mouse to wife
+there'll be a difference of opinion about the mode of living.'  You
+could never put up with mission ways."
+
+"You never did any mission work, I suppose," said Eola, turning the
+conversation from a subject she was not prepared to discuss with her
+housekeeper.
+
+"No miss; but my husband William--that was my second--he tried his hand
+at it once, only once.  He saw some of the canteen servants doing pujah
+to a stone image that stood under a tree behind the canteen.  He went
+up to them in the middle of the pujah and said: 'Boys, you're all going
+to hell that way.'  One of them that served the Presbyterian minister
+spoke up and said: 'No sar!  It's the Roman Catholics that are going to
+hell, not us!'  William walked away without another word; and when I
+asked him about it, he said that missionary work wasn't his job, and
+that he would leave it to those who knew more about it than he did."
+
+"It was very good of him to make the attempt."
+
+Mrs. Hulver looked pleased at the praise and approbation of the
+departed William the second.
+
+"He was a right-minded man about everything, loyal to his God and his
+King; and he was the father of my only child."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Eola sat at the tea-table in the verandah.  Her brother, punctual to
+the stroke of four, came in without haste, crossing the compound from
+the college buildings to the private house.  Punctuality, he declared,
+was his salvation.  He could not have stood the rush of work had he not
+rigidly adhered to the hours of his meals.  Afternoon tea was the one
+he liked best.  He gave himself exactly thirty minutes for it.  It was
+thirty minutes of solid rest.
+
+"Where's Alderbury," he asked, as he seated himself in a comfortable
+cane chair.
+
+"He has gone to see Ananda."
+
+"You don't mind if I read, do you, Eola?  The new magazines came two
+days ago and I haven't had time even to open them."
+
+He tore off the cover of an illustrated monthly and handed it to her.
+A second magazine was opened for himself, and he was soon deep in an
+article professing to give the last word on the chemistry of biology.
+Whilst he read he drank his tea.  A bell rang and he jumped up,
+instantly detaching himself from the magazine and breaking off in the
+middle of a paragraph.  He hurried away in the direction of the college
+without another thought for his visitor.  At his departure Mrs. Hulver
+appeared.
+
+"When you go out, Miss, will you kindly get some carpet thread for the
+tailor.  The motor is ready."
+
+"I can't leave the house till Mr. Alderbury has come in.  He promised
+to be back to tea at four o'clock.  He must have been detained."
+
+"Oh, yes, miss, I daresay he has been detained," assented Mrs. Hulver.
+"Our master might be kept if he chose to allow it.  As William--that
+was my third--used to say: 'There are some men who will be in time for
+every meal, hungry or not; and there are others who will be in time for
+nothing but their own funerals.'"
+
+Eola ignored the implied depreciation of her guest and proceeded to
+give orders that would ensure his comfort.
+
+"We shall want another pot of tea, please.  Tell the matey to keep the
+kettle boiling, and he is not to make the tea until Mr. Alderbury comes
+in."
+
+"If you like to go out now, miss, I can see to Mr. Alderbury and give
+him his tea.  I am sure he won't mind.  His head is that full of his
+missioning that he won't notice whether it is poured out by you or by
+me.  As William--that was my first--used to say: 'When a man is
+bothered by business he has no room in his head for a woman and can't
+tell one from another.'  Mr. Alderbury is bothered with this business
+of Pantulu Iyer's son coming Christian.  It has all been done in a
+hurry, as I was telling you.  As William--that was my third--used to
+say----"
+
+What William the third said was lost in the sudden appearance of the
+guest.
+
+"So sorry I'm late, Miss Wenaston.  Yes, please, I should like some
+tea.  What with the dust and the amount of talking I've done, I'm as
+thirsty as a fish."
+
+He hurried away to his room to get rid of the powdery ochre blown up
+from the laterite roads.  Mrs. Hulver glanced after him with as much
+disapproval as she dared to show.
+
+"Next to schoolmasters, missionaries should be particular in being
+punctual.  As William--that was my second--used to say: 'Men should be
+valued like watches for the time they keep.'"
+
+"And he was quite right from a military point of view.  Will you see
+about the tea, please, Mrs. Hulver!"
+
+"It's being made, miss.  I've got my eye on the matey.  It will be
+ready as soon as Mr. Alderbury is ready for it.  Like as not he will
+read those letters that have come while he has been away and forget all
+about his tea."  Mrs. Hulver looked at Eola as much as to say, "And you
+too."  She continued: "A man with a lot of business needs a good head.
+As William--that was my second--used to say: 'Drive your business with
+a firm hand and a clear head or your business will drive you."
+
+Alderbury's appearance checked the flow of Mrs. Hulver's wisdom, and
+she departed to her room.  As he received his cup from Eola's hand he
+said:
+
+"You would like to hear how I fared, I am sure."
+
+"Yes, please; tell me all about it."
+
+The words did not ring quite true; they were wanting in sympathy, and
+seemed to the quick sensitive ear of the missionary to be spoken more
+out of polite curiosity than real interest.  He glanced at her and
+tried to swallow some of the scalding liquid with the aid of the
+teaspoon.  The innate love of fighting in a good cause rose within him,
+and he determined to try conclusions with her.  She should become
+interested, and more.  He would conquer her indifference and rouse her
+sympathy.
+
+"I had no end of a difficulty in seeing the parents.  It was the father
+I wanted to get at and he was very inaccessible."
+
+"You had an interview with Ananda, of course.  I knew him in England,
+and should like to hear how he is getting on.  I don't care a bit about
+his stupid old father.  Why can't the father let the son alone, and
+allow him to take his own line?"
+
+"The step involves so much."
+
+"If that is so, then Ananda shouldn't have taken it."
+
+Alderbury put down his cup suddenly, his mind entirely diverted from
+the business of tea-drinking by her words.
+
+"You don't mean that you really think he ought not to have become a
+Christian?" he inquired, in a grave voice that had lost the lightness
+with which he had greeted her on arrival home from his visit.
+
+The seriousness of his manner awoke a spirit of perverseness.
+
+"I am of the opinion that he might have had more consideration for his
+father's feelings," she said, with a levity that jarred.  "Why should
+existing relations that seemed so satisfactory be disturbed?"  Then, as
+Alderbury remained silent, she continued: "There is a time for all
+things.  It is too soon to ask educated India to accept Christianity;
+the way is studded with such colossal difficulties.  Don't you often
+feel that you are fighting against almost insuperable obstacles?"
+
+"In short you think it would be more expedient for the missionary to
+run away or temporise, instead of buckling on his armour and standing
+up to the enemy.  What about our responsibilities and lending a helping
+hand to our fellow-men?  The marsh is a good enough place for the horse
+to wallow in, and the man enjoying the firm ground of the meadow has no
+duty towards the poor beast!  Miss Wenaston, that is a poor creed."
+
+"Are you so sure that the Hindu is in the mud?" she asked, more in a
+spirit of provocation than honest inquiry.
+
+There was a fearful fascination in rousing him, and she took the risk
+of his anger for the pure pleasure of seeing him come up to the
+fighting line.  The eyes that met hers shone with the light of battle,
+and she inwardly trembled at the spirit she had wantonly raised.
+
+"Am I sure, you ask?" he cried derisively.  "If you knew what Hinduism
+meant you would never put such a question to a man of my profession.
+You cannot realise how encrusted it is with insidious error appealing
+mischievously to the sensual part of humanity.  You know nothing of the
+practices at the worship of Kali--of the life led by the dasis in the
+temples of Southern India----" he stopped abruptly, conscious of having
+been led in his excitement and enthusiasm a little too far.  It was
+impossible to pursue such an unsavoury subject with an English woman.
+
+"I don't know much about the worship of Kali; and I am sure that I
+never heard the word dasi before.  What is a dasi?"
+
+"Oh! never mind," he exclaimed, the fire subdued.  "Please give me
+another cup of tea, and I will tell you about Ananda.  Perhaps when you
+hear what has driven him out of the faith of his ancestors, you will be
+able to sympathise."
+
+He explained the theory of transmigration, and how Ananda had revolted
+against it on the loss of his friend; how he put himself under
+instruction in England and took the step voluntarily and without
+pressure.  From the story of his conversion he passed on to the
+description of all that had followed since Ananda arrived in India.
+
+"The man is being persecuted in all kinds of ways.  They have supplied
+him with food, but they have employed an out-caste sweeper to carry it
+to him.  The prejudice of fifty generations is not to be conquered all
+at once, and Ananda cannot bring himself to receive his food at the
+hands of a man whom he holds more unclean than we should consider an
+unwashed workman who had just emptied a sewer."
+
+"How has he been existing?"
+
+"On biscuits and milk, a poor diet for a healthy hungry man.  It has
+kept him from starvation however.  Your brother did wisely in sending
+for me after receiving Ananda's letter.  He needs advice and support,
+and he will require help of another kind when the small amount of cash
+in his pocket is finished."
+
+"I suppose you talked to him--and prayed with him?" said Eola,
+conscious of the banality of her words even as she spoke them.
+
+"Dear lady! does a man stop to fall on his knees when he sees a comrade
+drowning?  You will think me a poor sort of missionary, perhaps, when I
+confess that I forgot to pray with him.  I was too busy chucking
+life-belts to the poor chap.  Already he was assailed with doubts as to
+the wisdom of the step he had taken.  'I have been too hasty,' he said.
+'I did not consider how seriously it would affect my father's peace of
+mind and his health.'  Then he drew a picture of the old man's feeble
+appearance as he came to him two or three mornings ago in the compound.
+'He was so bowed and bent he might have been seventy instead of fifty.'
+It gave him a shock, and he seems to have entertained a suggestion made
+by his father which was nothing less than the contemplation of partial
+apostacy.  I fought against the weakness.  I preached free-will and
+choice.  I appealed to his honesty and combated the cowardice that
+prompted retrogression.  He admitted that he could never again accept
+the Hindu doctrine of transmigration.  Then I pointed out the
+responsibility that falls on a man's shoulders when his eyes are opened
+and the choice of road lies with him.  I dug away and rooted about to
+find a little courage.  He has more obstinacy than courage at present.
+I hope that the one will breed the other."
+
+While he talked he drank tea and devoured bread and butter with the
+wholesome hunger of a schoolboy.  Mrs. Hulver appeared once more.
+
+"The motor is waiting, miss.  I'm afraid I can't do without the carpet
+thread."
+
+"I will go at once," replied Eola, rising from the tea-table to put on
+her hat.  "Will you come for a run in the car, Mr. Alderbury?"
+
+"I should like it immensely," he replied with a promptness that did not
+escape the ears of the housekeeper.
+
+She was not satisfied with the result of her interruption to the
+conversation.  By despatching Miss Wenaston on a shopping errand she
+had aimed at putting an end to the _tête-à-tête_.  The guest, she
+supposed, would be driven to his room or into the garden until Dr.
+Wenaston was released from his duties and could join him.  As Eola
+disappeared in the direction of her room Alderbury turned in his
+impulsive way to Mrs. Hulver.
+
+"I haven't had a moment to ask you after yourself.  How have you been
+since we last met?"
+
+"I've been keeping pretty well, thank you, sir.  All that troubles me
+is the haricot veins in my legs.  If I stand about too much, they swell
+and become very painful."
+
+"How is your son?"
+
+Mrs. Hulver beamed suddenly, and the severe expression that she had
+worn since he appeared in the verandah vanished.  Next to talking about
+her late husbands she loved to expand on the subject of her boy.
+
+"He is very well and grown quite the man.  He tells me that he has just
+been made a corporal.  He's in his father's old regiment, and it has
+been ordered out at once.  He ought to be landing in less than a week's
+time.  He has promised to come off and see his old mother the first
+minute he can get leave.  They say that the regiment is going to
+Bangalore.  If so I shall see him often."
+
+"I hope he will prove a good son."
+
+"No fear but what he will," said Mrs. Hulver, with the unshaken
+confidence of a proud mother.  "He is happy in his work and likes
+soldiering.  As William--that was my second and the boy's own
+father--used to say when I talked of the child following any other
+trade: 'Bring up the foal to the shafts and don't try to teach him to
+drive a wheelbarrow.'"
+
+"He was perfectly right; each man should follow the line for which he
+is best suited."
+
+"But they don't do so always.  There are many men--and women, too--who,
+being square, find themselves in round holes.  Now you, sir, I take it,
+are in the right-shaped hole.  So am I; and so is Miss Wenaston.  She
+would do badly in my hole, for instance; for she would be cheated every
+hour of her life by these budmashes of servants; and she would be still
+worse off in your hole.  There's nothing of the missionary about her,
+as any one can see with half an eye.  As William--that was my
+third--used to say: 'It doesn't need a uniform to show you who's a born
+soldier.'  He was a fine figure and had a handsome----"
+
+Miss Wenaston appeared and the car drew up under the portico, cutting
+Mrs. Hulver short.  She watched the pair drive away with renewed
+misgivings.  "I don't like that look in her face.  She's feeling just
+as I used to feel when William, my second and the father of my boy,
+took me out walking in the bazaar, he looking so fine in his corporal's
+uniform."  She called to the butler.  "Ramachetty!  Come here; I want
+you.  To-morrow is pay-day.  I'm going out into the garden to count the
+roses.  Where's the gardener?"
+
+She descended the steps of the front verandah and walked slowly,
+displaying an imposing dignity, to the spot where the roses stood.  She
+counted the pots.
+
+"--six--seven--"  As she arrived at the seventh the gardener pointed
+with feverish anxiety to the eighth.  It bore a beautiful double pink
+blossom full of fragrance, proclaiming itself a true and genuine _La
+France_, "Eight; good!  Wasn't it just as I said?" she asked the butler
+triumphantly.  "With care the roses would turn back to their proper
+sort.  Why haven't the others turned, too?" she inquired, looking
+severely at the gardener.
+
+"They are turning now; all coming nicely if missus will please wait."
+
+"Mind they do come," she replied, lifting a warning finger that
+indicated a determination to exact the fulfilment of her demand.
+
+"Missus will let off the fine!" said the gardener in an insinuating
+voice.
+
+"Certainly not!  There will be four rupees fine to-morrow; four rupees
+kept back until the missie has twelve good, sweet-smelling double pink
+roses."
+
+"I am a very poor man!" whined the gardener.  "I have a large family
+and two wives, both big hungry women.  What can I do if missus stops my
+pay?"
+
+"You should have thought of that before you spoilt the roses," said
+Mrs. Hulver, showing no sign of relenting.
+
+"I am not a bad man," pleaded the gardener.  "Missus must please
+forgive.  I am same religion as missus--a Christian----"
+
+"What!" cried Mrs. Hulver, with such startling emphasis that they all
+jumped, butler, gardener and gardener's assistants.
+
+"A Christian, a poor worm of a Christian, same religion as missus and
+master and missie!"
+
+"How dare you call yourself a Christie?" cried Mrs. Hulver, in deep
+indignation.  "How dare you say that you belong to the same religion as
+me and the master and our missie?  You! a spoiler of roses! you! a lazy
+idle budmash of a gardener!  You! with two big hungry wives!"
+
+The unfortunate bigamist trembled visibly before this outpouring of
+wrath.  He felt that he had made a false step.
+
+"Ramachetty! is that man a Christian?" she asked, turning to the butler
+with an abruptness that upset his self-possession.
+
+"I never heard that he was, ma'am.  He doesn't belong to my Church, the
+Roman Church."
+
+"Is it true that he has got two wives?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am; one to cook and keep the house, and the other to mind the
+field and the buffalo and make the butter.  My Church doesn't allow two
+wives."
+
+"No; nor any other Christian Church.  He calls himself a Christian
+because he thinks I shall be sorry for him and let him off his fine.
+Tell him that only heathen people marry two wives and turn pink roses
+into red.  He is the sort of budmash who brings Christianity into
+disgrace.  I'll double his fine if he dares to say again that he
+belongs to my religion.  When he has learned to keep pink double roses
+pink and double, then we will talk about his being a Christian and
+belonging to our religion; but mind!  I don't give him much hope.  I
+never knew any missionary that allowed two wives."
+
+The butler was not indifferent to the pronoun used by Mrs. Hulver when
+she spoke of "our religion."  He dismissed the gardener to his duties
+and followed the housekeeper to the back verandah.  She retired to her
+room to make out the pay-list for the establishment.  Against the
+gardener's name she ventured to write the full sum of his wages and
+made no note of any fine.
+
+"Those four missing plants will all be back by to-morrow unless I am
+very much mistaken.  Christian or heathen, I'll keep him and the rest
+of them up to the Christian standard or my name is not Maria Hulver.
+As William my third used to say, he having been in the Artillery:
+'Drive your team straight whether they're horses or mules, and you and
+your guns will get over the ground without a spill.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+After dinner that same evening Alderbury sat in the verandah with Eola
+and her brother.  The end of the verandah was enclosed with a trellis
+over which creepers were trained.  From the roof hung a lantern that
+shed a subdued light.  If Eola desired to work or her brother to read,
+a lamp was brought and placed upon a table.  This evening the lamp was
+not required.
+
+While the servants waited at table, Alderbury could not speak of the
+subject uppermost in his mind.  No sooner had the coffee been handed
+round and the cigars lighted, than Ananda's name was brought up, and he
+described his visit to the convert.
+
+The chief thing accomplished was the moral support he had been able to
+give to the convert.  He devoutly hoped that it would sustain Ananda
+until something could be effected to improve his condition.  All that
+had happened since his return home was quite sufficient in itself to
+induce depression; and there was always a danger lest depression should
+be followed by apostacy.
+
+"I want your help, Wenaston," said Alderbury suddenly.
+
+"You shall have it," the other responded without hesitation.
+
+"You promise without knowing what it is."
+
+"You want to borrow the motor-car.  It shall be ready at sunrise
+to-morrow.  I can't drive you myself, much as I should like it.  I
+haven't time.  The chauffeur will take you where you want to go."
+
+"I shall be very grateful.  The car transforms travelling from
+purgatory to pure delight.  It was not the car, however, that was in my
+mind.  I want something else--help for Ananda.  His money won't hold
+out a week longer, and then it will be in the power of his people to
+starve him."
+
+"He will have to take food from his pariah servant--a practical
+beginning of his education in the brotherhood of man," remarked
+Wenaston.
+
+"Lately no food of any description has been sent to his room.  Unless I
+am very much mistaken the supply will stop altogether."
+
+"And his father will give him no money?"
+
+"I am sure of that."
+
+"What are Ananda's rights as a son?  Can't he claim assistance and
+support from his nearest relatives by his caste laws?"
+
+"If he were still a member of the Hindu religion he could claim
+house-room, food and clothing from his father.  These benefits are
+conceded by the unwritten law of caste custom.  Having abandoned his
+faith and become an outcaste, he loses all his rights legal and social."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Quite certain.  I called on the chief lawyer in the town on my way
+back to find out what his position really was--the reason I was late
+for tea, Miss Wenaston--and from him I learned the law regarding
+converts to Christianity as it stands in the native State."
+
+"Is it different from the law in British India?"
+
+"Entirely; the 'vert has no legal standing at all, no civil rights
+whatever.  He is an outcaste in every sense; in other words an outlaw.
+Neither by inheritance, nor by deed of gift, nor by a duly executed
+will can he inherit his father's property.  He has no power to compel
+his wife to live with him.  She may contract any other alliance she
+chooses as if he had never existed; and he has absolutely no control
+over his children.  What is more they are empowered to divide his
+patrimony among themselves exactly as if he were dead."
+
+"How unjust!" exclaimed Eola in indignation.
+
+"It is nothing less than iniquitous," responded Alderbury, with some
+warmth.  "But there it stands.  We cannot alter it and Ananda must face
+it."
+
+"He should get away from his home and his people; he is at too great a
+disadvantage where he is," remarked Dr. Wenaston.
+
+"Exactly so; and we must help him," said Alderbury.
+
+"If it means a sum of money, of course I am ready----"
+
+"I don't want your money, Wenaston," protested Alderbury, speaking
+rapidly as was his wont when excited.  "I want your help in another
+way.  Ananda is very unwilling to leave his home to which he has only
+just returned.  He is devoted to his parents and cannot at present
+bring himself to believe that they are lending themselves to this
+system of persecution.  He attributes it to his uncle.  Until he has
+proof that his father's hand is actually turned against him, he wishes
+to continue living under his roof.  He would like to obtain work of
+some sort in Chirapore that would enable him to keep house with his
+wife and child separately.  Can you find anything for him to do in your
+school?  He is quite capable of teaching English, mathematics, history,
+geography or anything of that sort to boys."
+
+Wenaston was silent and unresponsive to the appeal.
+
+"I suppose you haven't a vacancy and don't see your way to making one
+on the staff," said Alderbury in a disappointed tone.
+
+"As it happens there is a vacancy, but----"
+
+"Why this hesitation, then?  It would be a clear way out of our
+immediate difficulty if you would give him a trial.  I feel sure he can
+teach.  You know him personally and need no testimonial as to his
+character."
+
+"I wasn't hesitating over his character or his qualifications as a
+teacher.  I was wondering how much sympathy was extended in the town to
+the family, and whether feeling runs strong on the subject of his
+conversion."
+
+"It will not affect his status in the college.  Of course he
+understands that religious discussion is prohibited.  You may depend
+upon him for not proselytising; he will not even introduce the subject;
+and I am sure that he will be ready to fall in with your wishes in
+every way.  Poor fellow!  I know he will be very grateful."
+
+The pleading on the part of Alderbury roused Eola's sympathy, and she
+added her entreaty to his.
+
+"You must lend him a helping hand!"
+
+"It is against my better judgment," replied her brother, giving in
+reluctantly.
+
+"If it doesn't answer you can put an end to the arrangement at once; a
+day's notice, if you like, will be sufficient.  Take him on for a week,
+and let me hear at the end of it whether the plan is working
+successfully or not.  It will be a great relief to my mind to know that
+he has employment of some kind, not only as a means of living but also
+as occupation.  Later on I will try to persuade him to leave Chirapore
+and get work elsewhere.  With a testimonial from you he should have no
+difficulty in finding a situation as schoolmaster in one of our
+missions.  If he will only sever his connection with his family and
+place himself beyond their influence I see a grand future before him in
+the mission field.  We so rarely win over a man of good caste.  At
+present he clings with all the force of a great love to his family and
+to his wife and child.  Patience! patience!  I am a most impatient man,
+Miss Wenaston," he concluded, turning to her with a boyish laugh that
+echoed through the verandah.
+
+Having discussed the details of Ananda's immediate employment,
+Alderbury dropped into a thoughtful silence.  From a few words spoken
+casually by the Doctor he was not satisfied that Wenaston appreciated
+and valued Ananda's conversion as much as he should.  Eola's remark
+earlier in the day also hung in his mind; yet he did not want to preach
+or to talk shop, as he sometimes called it.  His difficulty of finding
+an opening was solved by a question put by Eola herself in the pause
+that ensued.
+
+"You said this afternoon that I knew nothing about Hinduism.  Don't you
+think you might enlighten me a little?  I am open to conviction, and
+quite ready to believe that the Hindus will be the better for the
+Christianity you are giving them.  Of course idolatry is only fit for
+savages, and the people of India ought to adopt something better as
+they are not savages."
+
+"You mustn't think that the Hindus are a nation of idolaters.  The
+ignorant masses worship idols and probably believe that the images
+themselves have some mysterious power of divinity in them; but the
+educated Hindu will tell you that the idol is symbolical; that they
+look beyond and through the image to the Deity.  Their conception of
+the Deity is different from ours.  He is impersonal and He is the
+creator of good and evil."
+
+"A bold theory of the infinitude of the Deity on one hand and the
+existence of evil on the other," said Wenaston, who was listening,
+although Alderbury addressed his remarks to Eola.
+
+"The Hindu believes that the world exists for a retributive purpose so
+that spirits may find embodiment, and suffer pain and joy according to
+their deserts.  Through their sufferings in cycles of rebirths they
+progress towards their final state of impersonal beatitude.  The
+retributive world with its process is eternal and lasts through all
+ages.  If the world dies, it dies to be born again.
+
+"A wonderful conception but deadening in its effects, whether one
+contemplates rebirth in this world or absorption into Brahma,"
+commented Wenaston.  "The marvel to me is that Hinduism has held its
+own so long."
+
+"Its preservation is due to its wonderful system, its width and
+breadth.  It preaches on one hand an asceticism which is acceptable to
+the most exacting fanatic.  On the other it gives a licence, in the
+name of religion and the worship of Kali, that appeals irresistibly to
+the lowest and most sensual side of man.  Hitherto its isolation and
+its marvellous power of absorbing other religious systems have been a
+tower of strength; but it cannot be saved much longer from the inrush
+of the modern spirit and stands in danger of being broken down."
+
+"By what?" asked Eola.
+
+"By the response to modern thought and by the awakening of Hindus like
+Ananda to a yearning after something better.  Under the influence of
+the new spirit of inquiry they are demanding more freedom, more
+spirituality in their doctrines.  They revolt as Ananda has revolted
+against the hopeless theory of transmigration, and they require
+something more satisfying in its place."
+
+"The Hindus are a religious people, with strong cravings that must be
+satisfied.  This is shown clearly by the absence of any desire on the
+part of my boys to shirk their religious duties," said Wenaston.
+
+"By and bye those boys won't be content with the performance of
+superstitious pujah with a pantheistic leaning.  They will require one
+God for India, not a million gods; they will demand an uplifting of
+suffering humanity, and they will rebel against a horrible creed of
+fatalism and predestination."
+
+"What have you to offer to a man like Ananda?"
+
+"Our own faith."
+
+"Can he comprehend it with its spiritual teaching?"
+
+"Ask him some day and he will tell you that in the teaching of Christ
+and in the following of Christ's example he has found a soul-satisfying
+substitute for his worn-out creed and childish rituals."
+
+"Alderbury, you are an incorrigible iconoclast.  With one blow you
+would annihilate the longest-lived religion of the world!"
+
+He was on his feet in a moment, as was his way when excited, and his
+voice rang out into the night.
+
+"You obsolete old professor! you bag of dry bones!" he cried, as he
+strode up and down the verandah.  "The ancient Greeks and Romans killed
+their conquered enemies, I know; but modern conquerors pursue a
+different plan.  They preserve; at the same time they subdue and bend
+the conquered to their will, making use of the good and pruning away
+the bad.  We shall treat Hinduism in the modern manner; remodelling its
+rites and its institutions.  Even that bugbear to all mission work,
+caste, shall be reformed.  Hinduism will be transfigured in God's good
+time by the spirituality of Christ.  It will merge into a fuller,
+richer Christianity than we of the less imaginative West have ever
+contemplated."
+
+Eola felt the blood coursing through her veins with an emotion that was
+startling.  Alderbury's enthusiasm, his magnificent faith, his absolute
+optimism and trust in the future roused her admiration, almost her
+envy.  She felt the infection of his hope and belief; but because she
+was a woman, there was something behind it that detached her mind from
+the cause for which he battled, and centred her thoughts upon the man
+himself.  While she listened, carried away by his words, she was
+conscious of his splendid personality, his strength, his confidence,
+his purity of heart.  He was a born leader of men with a strong
+personal influence that was not to be denied; and the messenger
+occupied her mind more than the message he carried.  Alderbury was
+unlike any one else of her acquaintance; and each time they met she
+became conscious of a growing attraction that she was unwilling to
+acknowledge even to herself.
+
+When the hour for retirement came, Wenaston said good-night to his
+guest and departed to his sitting-room to read.  Eola stood for a few
+minutes after she had shaken hands.  Alderbury waited, his quickened
+perception where human beings were concerned telling him that she had
+something to say which was for his ear only.
+
+"I am sorry I spoke as I did about Ananda and his religion.  I am
+afraid I gave you the impression that I thought one religion as good as
+another."
+
+"It certainly crossed my mind that such was your attitude," he replied
+gravely.
+
+"I ought not to have said that it was a pity that he had changed.  I am
+sorry."
+
+She was sweet in her penitence, and Alderbury was constrained to take a
+firm grip of himself.
+
+"People have a habit of making loose statements of that kind, and of
+expressing a vague regret that we interfere with the Hindu creed.  They
+don't realise what they are practically admitting.".
+
+"It is so!  I have often heard English men and women say that they
+would rather have a good heathen servant for instance, than an
+indifferent Christian."
+
+"The standard of one is entirely different from the standard of the
+other.  A 'good heathen's' religion makes the practice of certain sins
+a religious act.  Among the 'indifferent Christians' there are a great
+many who have no religion at all; but they claim to be of the faith of
+those they serve, thinking that they will be more favoured."
+
+"I mustn't get into the habit of making loose statements."
+
+"Nor of believing everything a native tells you.  I am sure Mrs. Hulver
+is careful how she receives what they say of themselves.  I should like
+to hear her on the subject, and also on their habits, good and bad.
+She would be sure to quote one of the Williams."
+
+"I know what they would have said!" cried Eola, the cloud dispersed,
+and on good terms with herself again.  "William the first would have
+held that habits had their advantages and might be acquired with
+discretion.  William the second's views would have been more rigid.
+Habits were good and bad; the good were to be adopted at all costs and
+the bad avoided.  William the third would have been of the opinion that
+habits, good and bad, were unavoidable in poor weak human natures and
+must be accepted with the man."
+
+Alderbury's laugh rang out; and Mrs. Hulver, dropping off to sleep on
+her cot under the mosquito curtains, heard it.  She stirred in sleepy
+protest.  Missionaries had no right to joke and laugh like that with
+"society ladies."  How could they expect to convert the heathen if they
+indulged in such levity?  As William used to say----; but here she fell
+asleep and happily forgot Miss Wenaston and the missionary, together
+with the words of wisdom that fell from the lips of her trinity of
+Williams.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+At sunrise Alderbury started off in the motor to drive back to that
+particular mission centre of which he was the superintendent.  It was
+situated in British India, about forty miles from the town of Chirapore.
+
+On his way he stopped at the house of Pantulu.  He walked quickly round
+to the side where the room assigned to Ananda was situated.  He found
+him sitting on his deck chair in the open doorway.  He was trying to
+concentrate his attention on a book, but his eyes often wandered to the
+hills.  He heard the tread of footsteps and looked up expectantly.  As
+soon as he caught sight of Alderbury he rose, pleasure plainly written
+on his face.
+
+"I did not think that you would have time to call and see me again," he
+said, as he shook hands warmly.
+
+"Dr. Wenaston's offer of the car has made it possible.  I come with
+good news.  He has consented to my suggestion that you should take up a
+post as junior master in the school.  The salary you will draw will
+enable you to support yourself and make you independent of your father."
+
+Ananda's eyes grew bright at the prospect and he questioned his visitor
+eagerly as to his duties.  They were explained, together with the
+subjects that were forbidden.
+
+"I shall like it beyond all things," said Ananda.  "For the present I
+will go on living here.  I am getting used to the room.  It is not as
+bad as it looks."
+
+"Have your people sent you any food this morning; any coffee and rice
+cakes?"
+
+"No; they have never yet sent me anything in the early morning.  The
+pariah has returned, I am glad to say, with permission to sweep and
+perform his usual duties."
+
+Alderbury began to dive into the deep pockets of his travelling
+overcoat.  He produced bread, butter, a bottle of strong coffee, cake,
+sugar, salt and various other eatables.
+
+"You don't mind accepting these things from Miss Wenaston.  Her
+housekeeper gave them to me with her own hands.  When you go to the
+college to-morrow morning, call at the house and say you are grateful."
+
+"Of course I will.  I'll see the housekeeper as well as Miss Wenaston."
+
+"And let me give you another piece of advice, Ananda.  You must fill up
+the whole day with regular employment, whether you are at the college
+or at home.  You must not allow yourself to drift into the habit of
+idleness.  It is bad for any man, European or Indian.  You must read
+and make notes of what you read.  You must write to me and tell me what
+you are teaching your class.  I will send you some books addressed to
+the care of Miss Wenaston as soon as I get back; and if you want
+lighter literature you can borrow of her."
+
+They talked of various matters for some time, and then Alderbury looked
+at his watch.
+
+"Half-past eight! how the time flies!  Is that your man outside?  Hi!
+come here!  I want you!" he called in the man's language.
+
+The sweeper ran forward, and Alderbury gave him directions.
+
+"Go to the car and bring me a small basket you will find on the seat."
+
+The pariah returned and was directed to lift the lid, which he did.  As
+he held it open Alderbury took out a packet of sandwiches.
+
+"I may as well save time by eating my breakfast whilst I talk."
+
+The food disappeared without any hindrance to the conversation, and the
+fact that it had been received from the pariah did not affect the
+missionary's appetite.
+
+"Put down the basket and give me that bottle and cup," said Alderbury
+to the man.  "Hold the cup while I pour."
+
+The thermos flask was full of steaming coffee, and Alderbury took the
+brimming cup from the hand of the despised pariah, giving him back the
+flask to replace in the tiffin basket.
+
+"This is Mrs. Hulver's own make; I never tasted better coffee.  You
+have got the same brew in that bottle, but without milk.  It should
+last you three or four days.  Boil your milk and add it to the cold
+coffee.  Don't heat the coffee or you will spoil the flavour.  I was to
+be sure and tell you this from Mrs. Hulver.  Good-bye and good luck go
+with your new venture.  Come along my man; bring that basket and put it
+in the motor."
+
+The lesson was not without its effect although nothing was actually
+said.  Somehow when the Englishman accepted food from the hand of the
+pariah the action had a different complexion, and it set Ananda
+thinking.  Alderbury hoped it would bear good fruit, and help to make
+matters easier if the time should come when no food was obtainable
+except through the pariah.  He was anxious to be off, and he bade
+Ananda good-bye, parting with him at the entrance of the little yard
+where the gourd spread its vivid green foliage.
+
+As he approached the gateway of the compound leading into the road a
+messenger met him with a request that he would come into the verandah
+in front of the house.  Pantulu Iyer desired a word with him.  Quite
+ready for an interview whatever might be its nature, hostile or
+friendly, he mounted the stone steps.
+
+A few minutes elapsed before Pantulu, accompanied by his wife,
+appeared.  They approached silently, their hands placed together palm
+to palm, and stood before him with bowed heads.
+
+"Sir!" began Pantulu, then he paused, unable to command his voice.
+
+"Speak, Pantulu Iyer; what do you wish to say?  I am ready to listen."
+
+Alderbury's gentle manner broke down the nervous constraint and opened
+the flood-gates of speech.  In a voice that was so charged with emotion
+as to be near breaking point, the old man prayed for the missionary's
+assistance in the restoration of his son, his only child.  There were
+numbers of others, he pleaded, who were ready and willing to join the
+Christian religion.  Their apostacy would not be felt by their
+families.  With him it was different.  In taking away his son the
+missionary deprived him and his father and grandfather of happiness in
+a future life.  Who was to perform the shraddah ceremonies when he,
+Pantulu, was dead, if his son Ananda refused to perform them?  The
+thought of his fate and the fate of his ancestors was intolerable,
+unbearable, appalling!
+
+As he poured forth his entreaty Gunga's tears flowed down her haggard
+cheeks and fell upon the folds of her tawny silk saree.  Her grey hair
+was dishevelled, and its silvery strands were sprinkled with the dust
+she had thrown upon her head according to custom in overwhelming grief
+or misfortune.
+
+Keenly sympathetic to human trouble at all times, Alderbury could not
+listen unmoved.  The appearance of both father and mother told its own
+tale, and he fully realised the havoc that had been wrought in one of
+the happiest homes of India.  It was ever the same, even from the very
+beginning of the story of Christianity, he thought with a sigh.  All
+pioneer work must run on similar lines; and although he knew that it
+was inevitable, his heart ached at the sight of their distress.
+
+"If you feel thus about the future why not take the same path your son
+has taken?  He is right.  Go with him and you will find such joy and
+peace in your old age as you have never experienced before."
+
+"Can the bullock learn a new method of drawing the cart after spending
+all its life under the yoke?  We cannot change at our age.  We must
+follow in the footsteps of our fathers.  Oh! sir! if you would only say
+the word, and bid my son remember his poor old father, all might yet be
+made right.  Let him conform outwardly, whatever he may believe
+inwardly, for our sake."
+
+Yielding to a sudden impulse, Pantulu and his wife fell at Alderbury's
+feet, touching their foreheads to the ground.  By this time the tears
+were falling from the old man's eyes.
+
+"Our son! our dearly loved son!  Give us back our child, our little
+one! the only child that was ever sent by the gods to bless us!"
+
+Not a word of reproach was mingled with the prayer which made it all
+the harder for the missionary to bear.
+
+"He cannot return to you.  You must go to him," repeated Alderbury.
+
+"Sir! if you will bring him back to us--and he will come!  I know he
+will! if you so much as hold up your finger--I will give you a lac of
+rupees to build a temple for your God.  Your God is merciful and kind.
+He will take the church in exchange for the only son of two
+heart-broken parents.  He will be satisfied if you build it large and
+put much gold and jewels in the sacred place.  You shall have money and
+jewels and gold and silk and rich carpets and hangings--all these and
+more than you ask you shall have, if you will only give him back to us."
+
+"Give him back to me, his mother!  Let me have my little one again! my
+little one whose tiny hands upon my neck awoke the mother-love within
+me," prayed the proud Gunga at his feet in abject humility.
+
+It was getting beyond Alderbury's endurance.  His human pity brought
+the tears to his eyes.  He bent over the prostrate figures.
+
+"I cannot grant your request even if I would.  There can be no return
+for your son.  You must go to him; he cannot come back to you.  May my
+God, the God of love and mercy, help you!"
+
+He turned and left the verandah.  In another ten seconds the car was
+speeding down the road hidden in a column of golden dust in the bright
+morning sunshine.
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+The following morning, punctual to the minute, Ananda, accompanied by
+the Principal, entered the class room where he was to instruct
+twenty-seven boys whose ages ranged between twelve and fourteen.  He
+had already received his instructions, and was relieved to find that
+nothing was required of him in the teaching line otherwise than what he
+was easily able to perform.
+
+The class had assembled and most of the boys were studying the lesson
+that was to be repeated.  There was a buzz of voices as each individual
+conned aloud the portion he had prepared.  A few talked together in low
+tones with a solemnity that would be strange in English schoolboys.
+Whether studying or chatting they all behaved quietly, with a total
+absence of trickery or exuberance of spirits.  This self-contained
+orderliness, peculiar to native children in India, renders it possible
+for a teacher to manage a class of fifty pupils.  Not only are the boys
+attentive, but many of them show an eagerness to learn which is
+surprising to the English master.
+
+There was a sudden breathless hush as Wenaston entered; and
+twenty-seven pairs of eyes were fixed in rounded wonder upon the new
+teacher.  He was recognised by most of the boys.  Many of them belonged
+to families known to his own people.
+
+He took his seat at the desk and began the lesson.  Wenaston, after
+listening a few minutes, nodded his head in approval and left the room.
+His own class of young men preparing for one of the higher examinations
+was waiting for him.
+
+At twelve o'clock the classes broke up and the boys went home to the
+midday meal.  It was customary to reassemble at half-past one for games
+in the playing-field and begin work again an hour later.
+
+After lunch Wenaston put on his sun-topee and strolled into the
+cricket-field.  A few boys stood about in couples idly talking, but no
+game was in progress.  He called to one of the big boys and asked why
+there was no practice at the nets.  The reply was to the effect that
+most of the boys were leaving at once for home where their presence was
+required by their families, without waiting for afternoon school.
+
+Wenaston was accustomed to the absence of his pupils on the occasion of
+domestic ceremonial; but it was usual to let him know beforehand.  The
+reason was sometimes stated but not always.  He passed on to his
+private sitting-room in the college where he had papers to look over.
+At three he went to the hall.  His class was small; so also were the
+classes of the other masters.  At half-past five the bell rang and the
+boys dispersed.  He met Ananda outside the building.
+
+"Come in and see Miss Wenaston," he said.  "How did you get on this
+afternoon?"
+
+"Very well, indeed, sir, as far as my subject was concerned.  It is a
+great pleasure to go over the old ground again and renew my
+acquaintance with it.  I had very few boys this afternoon; only ten out
+of the twenty-seven turned up."
+
+"There must be some public festival going on; for the other classes
+were also small.  Do you know what it is?"
+
+"Not a regular feast day, I am sure.  If there is anything of the kind
+it will be of a private nature: a wedding or a funeral.  I am in
+Coventry as you know, sir; and so I hear no news whatever."
+
+"I hope you will not have to remain long in that uncomfortable
+position.  You must establish yourself in a house of your own."
+
+"I intend to do so as soon as I can consult with my wife.  Up to the
+present I have not been allowed to see either her or the child."
+
+"You will not leave without them?"
+
+"No; they must come with me.  As long as I remain in the house I have a
+better chance of obtaining an interview."
+
+They found Eola in the garden looking at the roses.  Her favourites
+were all back in their places, a dozen beautiful _La France_ plants.
+Whether they were the originals she could not say.  The pruning was
+always a severe process that deprived the bushes of individual features
+and made them all of one pattern.  Mrs. Hulver was not far off; and the
+gardener, beaming with satisfaction at the thought that his full wages
+were assured, was half concealed behind a bank of ferns where he was
+pretending to be very busy picking off dead leaves.  Eola greeted
+Ananda with a friendly welcome that set him at ease; talked of her
+roses and other matters of no importance.
+
+"I want to thank you, Miss Wenaston, for all that you sent yesterday by
+Mr. Alderbury," he said.
+
+"You must thank my housekeeper.  It was her thought.  Mrs. Hulver!  Mr.
+Ananda is very grateful to you for thinking of him in his need."
+
+Mrs. Hulver, thus encouraged, approached and cast her shrewd grey eyes
+over the visitor.  His neat European dress and manner met with her
+approval.
+
+"I am glad the food was acceptable.  I saw to the cooking of it myself.
+Mr. Alderbury told me that you had been obliged to live on
+biscuits--poor stuff for young stomachs.  What a man wants is a hot
+meal once a day.  There should be meat as well as bread or rice.  I
+wasn't able to send you any meat, Mr. Ananda."
+
+"I don't eat meat, so it was all right."
+
+"Do you like fish?"
+
+"Yes; and vegetables curried; but I have not tasted a curry since I
+landed."
+
+"Then you've gone to bed hungry more often than not in spite of your
+biscuits.  As William--that was my second husband--used to say: 'Sharp
+stomachs make short tempers.'  The best temper will sour under
+starvation."
+
+A little later Ananda said good-bye and walked back to his father's
+house.  On the way he met Bopaul.  Mayita was his companion.
+Regardless of ill omens the brother had renewed his friendship with his
+sister; he took her for daily walks, avoiding the places where men and
+women congregated.
+
+"Not afraid of being contaminated by the company of an outcaste?" said
+Ananda with some bitterness, as Bopaul turned to stroll part of the way
+with his friend.
+
+"No; nor of being overshadowed by the widow," replied Bopaul with a
+light laugh.  "How are things going with you?"
+
+Ananda related the experience of the last week and his employment at
+the college, together with his plans for the future.
+
+"You will certainly have to clear out of your father's house as soon as
+you can if you want any comfort."
+
+"I shall not go without my wife and child," said Ananda, with the old
+obstinacy.
+
+"How is the child?" inquired Bopaul.
+
+"The child!  Is it ill that you ask?" said Ananda, startled.
+
+"It had a fall the day you returned.  No effect was seen at first but a
+few days ago it complained of pain; and my mother, who went to see it,
+thought that it was ill, though not very bad.  Haven't they told you?"
+
+"I hear nothing and I see nobody but the sweeper.  Bring me news if
+there is anything important to tell," said Ananda, trying in vain to
+hide the sudden anxiety that sprang up as he heard that the child was
+not well.
+
+"I will," answered Bopaul, with a note of sympathy in his voice.
+
+He stopped to turn back towards his own house, and Ananda passed on
+with downcast troubled eyes that failed to see how his friend stood
+watching him.
+
+"Poor fellow!" thought Bopaul.  "They are making it very hard for him;
+but it is only what he might have expected.  There is more grit and
+endurance in him than I expected.  I thought he would have given in by
+this time.  Pantulu Iyer's brother has met his match, and he won't step
+into Ananda's shoes quite as easily as he thought."
+
+The following morning Ananda arrived at the college, and was in his
+place punctually to the strike of the clock.  The bell rang but without
+response.  A strange silence prevailed in the college close, in the
+hall and in the class rooms.  Not a boy was visible.  The masters were
+in their places and the Principal in cap and gown on the platform ready
+to begin his lecture.  He waited a short time and then went to the
+Vice-principal's room, a native who had taken a good degree at
+Cambridge.
+
+"Where are all the boys?" asked Wenaston, in some bewilderment.  "Is it
+a public festival?"
+
+The Vice-principal paused before replying.
+
+"I am afraid, sir, that they are purposely absenting themselves," he
+said, reluctantly.  He had a great regard for his chief, and it went
+against the grain to say anything that might give him pain.
+
+"Can you tell me the reason?"
+
+"Because you have appointed the son of Pantulu Iyer as a master in the
+school."
+
+"Does the feeling run so strongly against him that they can carry it to
+this pitch?" replied Wenaston in some indignation.  "It is no concern
+of theirs what religion he professes.  His opinions are a personal
+matter as long as he keeps them to himself.  Did he mention the subject
+to his class yesterday?"
+
+"No, sir," the Vice-principal answered promptly.
+
+"Then it is outrageous that he should be ostracised in this manner."
+
+Wenaston had been haunted by the dread of something of the kind ever
+since he had acceded to Alderbury's request; but he had not anticipated
+that it would come so soon, nor in such a practical form as a strike.
+The utmost he had expected was an inquiry on the part of the Government
+authorities, followed by a recommendation that the appointment should
+be cancelled.
+
+"The sympathy in the town is all on the side of Ananda's parents.  You
+hardly realise, sir, what an appalling disaster it is for a high caste
+Hindu to lose a son in this way," remarked Wenaston's colleague.
+
+"You talk of him as if he were dead!"
+
+"It would have been less of a disaster if he had died in the Hindu
+faith before he became a Christian."
+
+There was a pause.  The Principal was troubled and perplexed.  If the
+animosity towards Ananda was roused to such an extent as to produce
+these results something must be done and done promptly.
+
+"If the feeling runs so high, I am afraid I shall be compelled to
+dispense with his services.  I shall be sorry to part with him for his
+own sake; I could see that he would have suited admirably as a master;
+his teaching is clear and lucid.  But I can't have the school emptied
+in this way.  You must help me to get out notices at once which will
+make it plain to the parents of the boys that the matter will be set
+right and another man will take the class."
+
+Dr. Wenaston had the unpleasant task before him of breaking the news to
+Ananda and of warning him that he must not be seen on the school
+premises again.  There was no objection to an occasional visit to the
+house.  Miss Wenaston would be pleased to see him at any time; but he
+must be careful to keep away from the class rooms and playing-fields.
+
+Ananda received the news in silence.  The sight of the empty rooms was
+enlightening and needed no comment.  He was not surprised when Dr.
+Wenaston intimated in polite and gentle speech that he could no longer
+permit him to appear in the college.
+
+"I had better leave at once, sir; as soon as the boys know that I am
+not here they will return," was Ananda's reply.
+
+"You understand the situation?"
+
+"Quite; the absence of the boys is convincing."
+
+His dejection touched the Englishman.  "I am sorry, very sorry for you.
+We must see what can be done in some other way.  I will write to Mr.
+Alderbury at once."
+
+Ananda turned his back on the silent rooms and walked towards the road.
+The residence of the Principal stood on his left fronting the other
+way.  Mrs. Hulver was in the back verandah, her eye scanning the
+landscape.  She called sharply to the butler.
+
+"Ramachetty, go and tell that native gentleman over there that I want
+to speak to him."
+
+Ananda, surprised at the summons, responded to her call.
+
+"Come in, Mr. Ananda; I want a few words with you," was her greeting.
+
+Mrs. Hulver bustled into her sitting-room, followed by her visitor.
+
+"Sit down," she said, in her expansive maternal manner.  "I have
+something to tell you.  Do you know that those imps of boys who ought
+to be in class are waiting outside about a hundred yards up the road?"
+
+"Are they, Mrs. Hulver?  What do they want?"
+
+Although he asked the question he was able to give a shrewd guess as to
+the reason of their presence.
+
+"They want you; and they mean mischief.  You must just sit here for a
+while, and when the coast is clear you can get away safely.  I was in
+the town this morning.  I tell you it is in a ferment over your coming
+to the college, and it isn't safe for you to be seen about in broad
+daylight.  Those young limbs of mischief mean to do you some hurt."
+
+This was the work of his uncle, he was convinced; but he did not
+express his thoughts aloud.  He thanked Mrs. Hulver for her kindly
+offices and sat down to wait.  She gave him a book to read, and did her
+best to make him feel at ease.
+
+"You stay and dine with me.  A good hot square meal will do you no
+harm.  It will be cooked by myself in the verandah and it will be ready
+soon after twelve--hot soup, fried fish, vegetable curry and stewed
+guavas; and we will eat it here in this room.  As William--that was my
+first husband--used to say: 'Better be in at the end of a feast than
+the beginning of a fight'--and a losing fight it will be for you, Mr.
+Ananda, if you get among those boys in their present temper."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A surprise was in store for Mrs. Hulver the next morning in the shape
+of a telegram from her son.  He had arrived at Bangalore, and he
+proposed taking three days' leave to pay his mother a visit at once.
+Her head was fairly turned with delight, and she hurried off to tell
+the good news to her young mistress.  She thrust the telegram into
+Eola's hand.
+
+"Read it, miss.  You will have to go through it two or three times
+before you can take it all in; at least, I had to do so; but then I'm
+flurried; and as William--that was my second--used to say: 'Flurry
+never fires straight!'"
+
+"Can we manage to put him up?" asked Eola, wondering whether she ought
+to offer her pretty spare room to the young corporal.
+
+"Quite easily, miss.  A camp bed in my sitting-room will do nicely."
+
+"Are you sure that you would not like the spare room for him----"
+
+Mrs. Hulver interrupted her with a gesture of horror.
+
+"A common soldier in the spare room, miss! and the room just done up,
+too!  No, indeed!  A missionary may use it if he is a friend of the
+house; but Dr. Wenaston should not stoop any lower.  With the new
+curtains and carpet the room is fit for the Governor himself.  As
+William--that was my third--used to say: 'The finest trappings in the
+world don't alter the breed of a horse.'  My son may look very smart in
+his corporal's uniform, but for all that he's only the son of a man in
+the ranks."
+
+Eola's delicate sense of hospitality was not satisfied.  With the spare
+room empty she felt that the door should not be shut against an
+Englishman, whose character was perfectly respectable, but whose rank
+differed from her own.
+
+"If it is inconvenient to you to have him in the sitting-room, I should
+be very pleased to let him use the spare room," she said.
+
+Mrs. Hulver drew herself up with pride.  "I know my place, miss," she
+replied, severely, as much as to say: "and you ought to know yours."
+She continued: "Even if I could bring myself to let him use the spare
+room, I should know all the time that it would not be good for him.  As
+William--that was my first--used to say: 'Pride is a plant that needs
+neither water nor manure; it will grow fast enough by itself.'  My son
+William will make himself comfortable you may be sure; and his pride
+will not be fostered by the camp bed, for it's a little ricketty, to
+say nothing of being a bit hard.  My sitting-room will be like a palace
+to the boy after the barracks.  I'm not sure that I ought to let him
+sleep there."
+
+"Where else could you put him?" asked Eola in wonder, for she knew the
+limitations of the house.
+
+"In a corner of the back verandah," replied Mrs. Hulver promptly.  "It
+would be very convenient to have him there."
+
+"The night wind might give him fever."
+
+"That's true, miss.  As William--that was my third--used to say, when I
+rated him for leaning a little too far towards his failing:
+'Conveniences have their inconveniences and comforts their crosses.'
+Well, you mustn't keep me here gossiping or I shan't be ready for young
+William when he arrives.  He's due at three o'clock this very
+afternoon."
+
+She bustled away, too full of William the second, junior, to note the
+smile with which Eola received the intimation that it was she who was
+detaining Mrs. Hulver.
+
+At twelve o'clock Wenaston came in.  He was earlier than usual.  As a
+rule he did not appear till the lunch bell rang at one.  Eola seated in
+the verandah looked up as she heard his step.
+
+"Well?  What's the news?  How are things going?" she asked.
+
+"Badly! very badly!  Only a quarter of the boys returned this morning.
+It will take a week or ten days to regain their confidence, and the
+loss of time will have an effect on my results.  I would not have
+believed that so much feeling could have existed over the matter had I
+not seen its consequences."
+
+"Did you hear how he got home yesterday?"
+
+"Not without accident.  You know, perhaps, that he came here after
+leaving college at Mrs. Hulver's invitation."
+
+"She told me that he had lunched with her," Eola replied.  "I was glad
+to think that the poor fellow had had a good midday dinner.  She said
+that it was the first hot meal he had eaten since he left the boat at
+Bombay."
+
+"It wasn't to give him food that she asked him in.  She heard through
+the servants that a party of the boys were lying in wait to
+rough-handle him on his way home; and this was her way of preventing
+mischief."
+
+"I wonder they dared to think of such a thing!" said Eola, with some
+indignation.
+
+"They not only thought of it but they nearly succeeded in carrying out
+their design.  Ananda left Mrs. Hulver's room in the afternoon, she
+having made sure that the boys were tired of waiting and had dispersed.
+At her advice he did not take the direct road home, but went round by a
+path not often used.  Near his house he was obliged to walk along the
+road and as bad luck would have it, he met two of my boys--men they
+might more properly be called.  They rushed at him with their sticks.
+He sprinted for home and escaped with a cut or two over the head."
+
+"Of course he will prosecute the boys for assault," said Eola.
+
+"He would do so if this were British territory; but being a native
+state, he, as a Christian, has no civil rights, no standing in a court
+of law.  He can gain no redress; he hasn't even the power to bind them
+over to keep the peace."
+
+"Have you written to Mr. Alderbury?"
+
+"I wrote yesterday morning, and I have just had his reply by wire.  He
+wants me to send Ananda to him at once.  He has an opening for him and
+can find him employment before long.  Meanwhile he will be glad to have
+him as his guest at the mission bungalow."
+
+"You must see Ananda and tell him so; it will be a little consolation
+for the poor fellow, perhaps."
+
+"There's just my difficulty," replied Wenaston in perplexity.  "It
+isn't safe for him to show his face outside his father's premises."
+
+"They are not ill-treating him inside the house, I hope," said Eola,
+with sudden anxiety.
+
+"Nothing beyond humiliating him as much as possible by giving him the
+services of a sweeper, and cutting off the supplies of food.  If it
+goes no further I don't think any bodily harm can happen to him as long
+as he stays at home."
+
+"Mr. Alderbury must come and advise him."
+
+"He says in his wire that he can't pay us another visit just yet.  We
+must do our best without him.  I ought to go to Ananda's house, I
+suppose, since he can't come to me."
+
+"It won't take you long; not more than five minutes to get to the house
+if you go in the car."
+
+"It isn't the time I am thinking of but the welfare of the college and
+my covenant with the Maharajah.  I undertook not to meddle in any
+religious matters."
+
+Eola laid her hand on her brother's arm.  "Leave it to me," she said,
+"I will undertake to let Ananda know.  Keep clear of the affair and get
+your pupils back as quickly as you can."
+
+"You ought not to go to Pantulu's house," he rejoined quickly, as his
+eyes rested on her in doubt.  "I don't know what sort of a reception
+you will get.  You must not run any risk of rousing unpleasantness that
+I could not overlook."
+
+"I promise you I will not run any risk nor get myself into trouble.  I
+can manage, I think, to have your message delivered without going
+myself to Ananda's house.  Will you tell me exactly what it is?"
+
+"I have no other instructions than what are contained in the telegram.
+I shall have a letter to-morrow giving me more particulars.  Meanwhile
+Ananda should be privately warned that he must be ready to leave not
+later than to-morrow evening by the night mail."
+
+"Shall we lend him the car?"
+
+"There again the difficulty occurs of assistance being rendered by me
+to an out-caste member of an important caste family, a member who is
+under the ban of the family's displeasure.  No; he had better go by
+rail.  The native chauffeur would sell the secret for a couple of
+rupees.  I can't drive him myself; I haven't the time, and it would be
+risky."
+
+"Mr. Alderbury will have to come and take Ananda away himself," said
+Eola, unconsciously ready to believe that a visit was necessary.
+
+"If so he must not do it from this house," said Wenaston decisively.
+"But before anything can be settled as to ways and means, we must
+communicate with Ananda and find out what his wishes are."
+
+"The simplest way is to write a letter."
+
+"But it would be difficult to deliver it.  It would never reach his
+hand."
+
+Wenaston lunched and returned to the college.  The boys were assembled
+in the playing-field, and his spirits revived somewhat when he noted
+that at the summons of the bell they entered the class rooms in greater
+numbers than in the morning.  He had an interview with the
+Vice-principal before afternoon school began.  At four o'clock he came
+into the verandah for tea.
+
+"Have you done anything about communicating with Ananda?" he asked of
+Eola.
+
+"Nothing beyond writing him a letter."
+
+"Impossible to get it conveyed to him!" he exclaimed.  "You mustn't go
+any further with the business.  I have been talking to Rama Krishna, my
+Vice, and he implores me to remain strictly neutral for the sake of the
+school if for nothing else.  He says that if I intend to help Ananda I
+may be able to do so later; but that at present I must be rigidly
+neutral."
+
+"It seems rather hard not to lend a helping hand," said Eola, whose
+pity was roused.  "I can't quite reconcile my conscience to a course of
+total inaction.  Whatever the Vice may say--and he is a heathen--we
+ought not to withhold any assistance that may be in our power to give
+him."
+
+"Rama Krishna assures me again and again that I can best help Ananda by
+remaining neutral.  I shall only provoke the town as well as the family
+to open hostilities."
+
+"Does he show any animosity towards Ananda?"
+
+"None whatever.  His life at the English University taught him
+tolerance.  He recommends me to get the boys back at all costs as soon
+as possible.  A mission agent like Alderbury is the right person to
+give the help required, and it is unfortunate that he cannot come just
+now.  He argues that the missionary is paid to make converts and to
+help them; and the natives recognise the fact.  Because he is paid to
+proselytise, they are ready to tolerate more from him than from an
+unpaid agent.  It is equally well known that I am paid to teach and not
+to proselytise.  This is a country that expects nothing more from a man
+than what he is paid for.  Anything done in excess of the purchased
+duty must have, in public opinion, some hidden motive."
+
+"Can't people understand that your motive in helping Ananda is a
+religious one?"
+
+"No; and it seems impossible to convince them otherwise.  Even the
+Vice, though he knows me so well, had a suspicion that there was a
+mercenary motive underlying my desire to assist Ananda.  He suspected
+that I was working for a reward from Alderbury or for a bribe from the
+family.  I think he inclined to the latter theory; but he was careful
+to hide his suspicions as they were not complimentary to me."
+
+"I hope you undeceived him."
+
+"I pretended not to see which way his thoughts leaned.  What have you
+done with your letter?"
+
+"I gave it to Mrs. Hulver.  I explained the case to her, thinking she
+might contrive to have it conveyed somehow to Ananda without discovery."
+
+Wenaston rose at once.  "It won't do," he said.  "There must be no
+communication between this house and Ananda's.  I'll see Mrs. Hulver
+myself and tell her my wishes.  She must understand definitely what
+they are."
+
+He passed through the house towards the back verandah into which Mrs.
+Hulver's room opened.
+
+"Poor Ananda!" thought Eola.  "Will he have the courage to hold out?  I
+am afraid my courage would melt away before such a fire of persecution
+as he seems to be meeting."
+
+Wenaston presented himself at the door of Mrs. Hulver's sitting room.
+She met him with a broad smile of pleasure.  Just behind her stood a
+man in uniform, the mother's smile reflected on his face.
+
+"This is William, my son, sir.  He has just arrived from Bangalore.
+He's the very image of his father.  Stand forward and let Dr. Wenaston
+look at you."
+
+She pushed the shy awkward young soldier forward.  He stood at
+attention as if confronting his colonel and lifted his hand in a
+military salute.
+
+"Very glad to see you, Smith.  So he is like his father is he?" he said.
+
+"They are as like as two peas, sir, in every respect but one.  My son
+takes after his grandmother on my side in his complexion.  He is darker
+than his father, who was very fair.  But as William--that was my
+first--used to say if any one remarked on his being dark: 'Human blood
+is all of one colour no matter what sort of a skin may cover it.'"
+
+"I hope you had a good voyage out," said the Principal.  "Sit down,
+Smith, I have come to speak to your mother.  Mrs. Hulver, Miss Wenaston
+entrusted you with a letter to deliver to Mr. Ananda.  Will you kindly
+give it back to me."
+
+Mrs. Hulver produced the letter and handed it to Wenaston, glancing at
+him with a natural curiosity which brought forth an explanation.
+
+"You learned from Miss Wenaston what this letter contained?"
+
+"Yes, sir; it was to show Mr. Ananda a way out of his troubles.  He has
+got himself into rather a tight corner.  As William--that was my
+second--used to say: 'Think twice before you tie a knot that you can't
+undo.'"
+
+"I want you to understand my position fully, Mrs. Hulver.  I am not
+able, I am sorry to say, to give Mr. Ananda any protection from the
+towns-people nor from his family.  Assistance on my part would be
+looked upon as a breaking of my covenant with the Maharajah when he
+sanctioned my appointment to the college.  I hope that you will be
+careful not to do anything which will compromise me in this matter."
+
+"You may rely on me, sir, for not burning my own fingers nor setting
+your house on fire by meddling with other people's candles.  I am sorry
+for the poor young man, but after all he has brought it on himself.  As
+William--that was my third--used to say (he was the one who changed his
+religion to marry me): 'If you sow brambles you must expect to tread on
+thorns.'  Mr. Ananda told me all about himself as he sat here waiting
+till those young imps of budmashes had gone home.  I heard in the
+bazaar this morning that he had been set upon near his own house; but
+he managed to get in without being much hurt."
+
+"Yes; that was so.  You pick up all the news in the market."
+
+"Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Hulver complacently.  She prided herself on
+possessing an accurate knowledge of the daily events of the town and
+Ramachetty was well aware that one of the roads to her favour was by
+way of the gossip that was reliable.  Woe betide the unfortunate
+servant, however, who carried false news!
+
+"What do they say in the town about the school?" asked Wenaston.
+
+"That the boys will all be back by the end of the week.  Don't you
+worry, sir, over those little budmashes.  The school is known to be the
+best in the State under your superintendence.  You have no need to run
+after pupils.  They will run after you if you bide your time.  As
+William--that was my third--used to say when I went into the garden to
+call him in to dinner: 'No occasion for the cook to hunt up the hungry;
+they won't fail to be where the food is when they're empty.'"
+
+"Anyway I must be careful to see that nothing is done to give offence
+to the parents of the boys," said Wenaston, anxious to press home his
+orders.
+
+"I understand, sir.  We are to let Mr. Ananda alone.  It shall be as
+you wish, of course.  I pity him, I'm sure; but all the same, I would
+rather not be mixed up with his change of religion.  It's turning out a
+bigger job than he thought.  As William--that was my second--used to
+say: 'When a man bites off a bigger bit than he can chew, he can't look
+for any assistance from other men's teeth.'"
+
+The school bell rang and Wenaston, punctuality itself, turned away to
+obey its call.  Mrs. Hulver hastened to add her last word which, as
+usual, was the reflected wisdom of one of the departed.
+
+"As William--that was my third--used to say after I had scolded him for
+leaning a little too far over towards his weakness: 'A stormy morning
+brings a clear evening, Maria, me dear, so perhaps your breath has not
+been wasted.'  Everything will come right in the end if you give it
+time."  Then, as Wenaston hurried away, she turned to her son.
+"William, you sit in the back verandah whilst I change my dress.  We'll
+take a walk in the town and look at the boutiques in the bazaar."
+
+Twenty minutes later Mrs. Hulver issued from her bedroom a very
+different figure from the white clothed housekeeper, who with cook and
+butler behind her, went marketing in the morning.  Even William,
+junior, who had just come from London, was impressed by the glossy
+purple silk that "stood by itself," the white lace scarf and floral
+bonnet; to say nothing of the odds and ends of glittering jewellery
+that adorned her ample bust.
+
+Mother and son, in purple silk and scarlet uniform, presented a patch
+of colour on the green landscape that was arresting to the most
+careless eye.  The sensation created in the town was considerable.  It
+was a kind of triumphal progress.  Being fluent in the native language
+she explained who the stranger was, introducing him to the merchants
+sitting behind their stalls and to the few Eurasians who lived in
+Chirapore.
+
+Bopaul, sauntering along the street, was attracted by the sight of a
+British soldier, and stopped to inquire his name.  Mrs. Hulver hastened
+to explain with maternal pride and returned the compliment by asking
+about the identity of the questioner.  The sun touched the horizon
+before she thought of home.
+
+"Time to be going back, William.  As your father used to say: 'Keep
+time as if it was your best friend, and take care you don't kill it or
+waste it or lose it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+Eola sat with her brother after dinner as usual at the end of the
+verandah where there was shelter from the night air.  Wenaston read,
+and Eola finding his society dull, retired early to her room.  The
+servants had gone to their go-downs at the back of the compound to eat
+their evening meal.  The cicalas whirred in the foliage of the
+oleanders, and a brown owl screamed in its shikarring flight over the
+roof of the house.  Above the noises of the night was heard a step on
+the carriage drive.
+
+Wenaston rose and went to the top of the verandah steps.  Two men stood
+under the portico keeping in the shadow of the ornamental shrubs.
+
+"Who is there?" he asked in a low voice.
+
+One of the visitors came forward into the light and Wenaston recognised
+Bopaul.
+
+"Oh, it's you, is it?"
+
+"Yes, sir; I have brought Ananda.  He wants to see you about Mr.
+Alderbury's offer."
+
+Wenaston descended the steps and they retreated together out of reach
+of the lamp light.
+
+"How did you hear of it?" he asked in some surprise.
+
+There was a slight pause and then Bopaul explained that he had heard of
+it and had told Ananda.
+
+"From the telegraph clerk, I suppose," said Wenaston.  "If he knows it
+the whole town knows it."
+
+"Perhaps; but Ananda's people have not been told."
+
+"So much the better; it will make it easier for you to get away," said
+Wenaston addressing Ananda.
+
+"I have come to see you to-night, sir, to say that I have decided not
+to accept Mr. Alderbury's invitation.  I shall be glad if you will
+write and tell him so.  I have sent a letter which Bopaul posted for
+me; but it will be as well if you will add your word to mine."
+
+Wenaston listened in surprise.  He had concluded that the visit was
+made for the purpose of raising money for the journey.  It had not
+crossed his mind that the invitation would be refused.  He gazed at his
+visitors in the darkness as though he had not heard correctly.
+
+"Are you wise to remain here after the hostile demonstration we have
+experienced in the college?  I am afraid it won't end there."
+
+"It would be cowardly to run away," said Ananda in a firm voice that
+betokened determination backed by courage.  "I have reasons for
+remaining under my father's roof.  I am attached to my parents and----"
+he hesitated for a moment and then added quickly, "and to my wife and
+child.  If these two would come with me I would go to-morrow, or even
+to-night; but I won't leave Chirapore without them."
+
+"I am not sure that you are acting wisely; though I can't deny that it
+is courageous.  You need not stay away for ever.  You might return at
+any time.  Popular antagonism will die down if you are not here to keep
+it alive; and your family might become more reconciled to the step you
+have taken."
+
+"They might; on the other hand they might consider me as dead; and then
+think of the fate of my wife."
+
+"They would regard her as a widow, you mean."
+
+"The case is exceptional and without precedent in Chirapore.  They are
+more likely to consider the marriage annulled by my departure, and to
+give my wife to another man.  That shall not be as long as I have an
+arm to protect her.  She is mine; mine by right of past possession and
+she shall be mine in the future."
+
+Even Bopaul was impressed by the new attitude of his friend.  The
+weakness had disappeared in a marvellous manner, and every trace of
+timidity had vanished.
+
+"You might gain immediate possession of your wife if you would give up
+your new faith, and place yourself unreservedly in the hands of the
+guru and purohit," remarked Bopaul probing the new found courage with
+curiosity.
+
+Ananda turned on him.
+
+"That I will never do.  I may have to suffer for it.  Others have
+suffered for their religious opinions before now.  I will keep my faith
+and I will have my wife and child.  My father may disinherit me but he
+cannot deprive me of my son; and where the son is the mother will
+follow."
+
+"You have no power as a Christian over your child," said Wenaston,
+feeling that it would be wrong to leave him in ignorance of his true
+position.  "The law of the State will not give you the custody of him."
+
+"Who says so?"
+
+He named the native lawyer whom Alderbury had consulted.
+
+"As long as you remain in the State of Chirakul you are in the position
+of an outlaw, deprived of your citizenship, your legal standing, your
+civil rights.  As soon as you set foot in British India you resume your
+rights and can claim protection and justice in the courts of law
+belonging to the territory; although of course you can't obtain redress
+against this State.  Hadn't you better go where your rights will be
+respected and where you will have religious freedom?"
+
+"If things grow hopeless I might do so; but at present I wish to remain
+here and show my parents that I have no intention of running away.  On
+the contrary I am going to fight for my rights."
+
+Again Bopaul's eyebrows were uplifted.
+
+"Were you hurt, by the by, yesterday?" asked Wenaston.
+
+"Nothing to speak of.  I had a nasty blow on my head; but beyond a head
+ache I am none the worse, thank you, sir.  We won't keep you any
+longer.  I shall be glad if you will let Mr. Alderbury know that I am
+grateful.  At the same time make him understand that I have made up my
+mind to adopt this course, and that I am not likely to change.  I think
+he will approve of my facing the situation instead of running away from
+it.  And tell him also that I mean to fight for my wife and child."
+
+Wenaston turned back into the verandah and took up his book; but his
+attention wandered, and a little later he gave up attempting to read.
+As he extinguished the lamp he said to himself; "I wonder how much
+endurance the man has; and how much he will require to carry him
+through his troubles.  Where would the Christianity of some of us be if
+we were outlawed; and bashed on the head; and deprived of our wives and
+children?"
+
+After bidding Dr. Wenaston good night Bopaul and his companion walked
+home by unfrequented paths to avoid chance pedestrians.  There was not
+much danger of molestation unless Ananda deliberately put himself in
+the way of it.  No concerted action was likely to be taken at present;
+and his prompt disappearance from the college went far to allay the
+irritation that had sprung up so suddenly among the students.
+
+The two friends parted in silence except for a few whispered words from
+Bopaul to the effect that he would look him up on the morrow.
+
+Bopaul's attitude towards his friend was curious.  He had no sympathy
+with his conversion to Christianity.  He regarded the action as
+inexpedient and bordering on foolishness.  His opinion was that it had
+been carried out in haste, and without due consideration of all the
+different issues involved.
+
+His friendship with Ananda was of long standing, dating from early
+childhood, and the two men were attached to each other by ties of
+affection that could not be easily broken.  It grieved Bopaul to see
+his friend living in discomfort, and he was ready as far as he was able
+to render any little service that might be within his power.  The
+English training had fostered an independence of thought with tolerance
+for the opinions of others; and it showed its effects in Bopaul's
+character.  He took an independent line of action with regard to his
+friend as well as his sister.  According to the unwritten law of caste
+the widow and the outlaw should have been ruthlessly thrust from his
+life.  Instead of abandoning them to their fate he maintained a
+brotherly love for one and a friendly affection for the other.
+
+Of the two Ananda interested him the more.  He found himself studying
+the development of his friend's character under the fire of adversity.
+Obstinacy had already given birth to courage, and courage was breeding
+patience.  Ananda's refusal to take flight roused his admiration.  The
+firmly expressed determination to gain possession of his wife and child
+appealed to the romance that is inherent in all human beings, and of
+which Bopaul had a full share.  In addition curiosity as to how the
+affair would end helped to retain his attention and interest.
+
+Bopaul continued his habit of taking Mayita for a walk every day.  This
+daily outing, sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening, was
+the breath of life to the girl.  She lived for it; it was the one ray
+of veritable sunshine that entered her darkened life.  Perhaps it was
+the knowledge of this fact that made the brother sacrifice everything
+else to the little daily act of charity.
+
+They were a strange couple, the brother and sister; and more than one
+pair of inquisitive eyes looked after them as they strolled towards the
+forest.  At first his mother shook her head over the arrangement.  She
+even went so far as to try and stop it by setting Mayita tasks that
+would keep her occupied when her brother called for her to come.
+Bopaul with his casual manner, that was none the less insistent for all
+its apparent indifference, over-ruled his mother by seeking out Mayita
+and carrying her away from her unfinished work regardless of her
+protests.
+
+"Let be, wife; and trouble not yourself.  You need have no fear that
+our son will offend against the laws of caste," said his father.
+
+"It is not that which I fear; it is the bad luck the widow may bring
+upon him," returned the anxious mother.
+
+"Many men who have travelled have learned to disregard our omens.  As
+long as the boy doesn't follow in Ananda's steps I am content."
+
+"He is not likely to do that if we may believe the guru.  The swami was
+satisfied that his faith in our gods was not shaken."
+
+"If it had been shaken he would not have performed all the ceremonies
+that were necessary on his return.  Be content and let the boy go which
+way he pleases.  A little liberty in the field will keep the bullock
+from straying into the forest where the tiger lies."
+
+Bopaul's mother was of too indolent a disposition to seek unnecessary
+trouble.  Having spoken to her husband she rested in the comfortable
+assurance that responsibility was shifted on to his shoulders.  She put
+no more obstacles in the way of the walks, and they were continued to
+Bopaul's satisfaction and the girl's intense delight.
+
+She was in her fourteenth year, but she looked older.  During the last
+few months she had lost all trace of childishness and had matured like
+most Hindu girls of that age.
+
+As they walked, Mayita's hand in his, he told her of that wonderful
+country in the west where he had lived for more than three years among
+white people; where there was no caste; where widows after two years of
+mourning dressed themselves like other women with gold and jewels, and
+married again if they chose.  She interrupted him to express her horror
+of such depravity on the part of widows in any country civilised or
+savage.  She herself would sink into the earth with shame if she were
+asked to pursue such an outrageous course.  He described the life on
+board the big ship; the wide blue water with no land visible; the storm
+and tumbling waves with their white crests.  Then he took her in
+imagination to Bombay where the pictures he drew were easier to
+realise; and he told her of the crowded streets, the tall houses and
+the magnificent carriages of the Governor and native princes.
+
+Now and then they stopped.  Bopaul seated himself upon a boulder or a
+fallen tree and read a book.  Mayita gathered flowers, and had it not
+been for her sad condition the sweet blossoms would have been pushed
+into the strands of her hair; but the luxuriant black locks were gone
+and the bare shaven pate in its widowed condition offered no temptation
+for floral adornment.
+
+Sometimes she played a little game by herself with sticks and stones
+and leaves to represent the feast at which she would never again be
+present.  She bade the imaginary guests welcome and served them with
+make-believe dainties.  She paid them compliments and dismissed them
+with gifts of attar of rose and pan-supari, as she had seen her mother
+treat her real guests in the old days before Coomara died.
+
+Then Bopaul would close his book and call to her to come home.  On
+their way they sometimes stopped at Pantulu's house; and Bopaul leaving
+her under the trees by the compound wall sought Ananda in his little
+room.  The solitary man responded eagerly, and joined his friend with
+an alacrity that showed how the little act of kindness was appreciated.
+They paced to and fro at the end of the compound furthest from the
+house, till it was time for Mayita to return once more to the women's
+quarters of her father's house.
+
+No one interfered to stop the intercourse.  If Bopaul liked to seek out
+his friend, he was welcome to do so; and if he brought his widowed
+sister with him there was no one to say him nay.  He was at liberty to
+please himself; but to those who happened to observe the trio it seemed
+a strange way of amusing himself, to choose a widow as his companion
+and to visit an out-caste.
+
+Unknown to Ananda one of the most interested watchers of his movements
+was Dorama his wife.  Hidden from all eyes she gazed through the chink
+of a shutter at the familiar figure in the distance.  The boyishness
+was gone; it was the form of a man, a strong well-set-up man who would
+find favour with any woman.  In spite of all that had happened he was
+still her husband.  The thought thrilled her with a strange
+restlessness and longing.  It was very hard--it was almost unbearable
+to be separated thus.  Did he yearn for her as she yearned for him?  He
+could not or he would break down every barrier and come to her.  He
+would submit to the ceremonies for the restoration of his caste.  He
+would obey every order given by guru or purohit.  He would allow
+nothing, nothing!--nothing!--to stand between them and keep them apart.
+
+The tears coursed down her cheeks in anger and disappointment.  At one
+moment she could have scratched and bitten him for the contumacy that
+was costing her so much misery; at another she could have devoured him
+with passionate kisses.
+
+Meanwhile all unconscious of the secret watcher Bopaul and Ananda
+talked.  They spoke in English mindful of listening ears.  A little
+cross-examining of Mayita would elicit all she knew of what passed in
+conversation.  It was best for those concerned that there should be no
+tale-bearing.
+
+"You don't realise the greatness of your old faith," Bopaul was saying
+as they strolled under the shade of the trees that bordered the
+compound.
+
+"How can it be great when it fails to satisfy?" objected Ananda.
+
+"First let me show you that Hinduism is great by the light of its past
+history," said Bopaul eagerly.
+
+He plunged into much the same story as Alderbury had told Eola.  He
+described the antiquity of Hinduism; its marvellous organisation; its
+power of absorbing the conquered races; and he extolled the system of
+caste.
+
+Ananda listened and at the conclusion he remarked, "Caste and the power
+of the Brahman are being already undermined."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"We have apologists for their existence.  If either were divine in
+origin there would be no necessity for an apology."
+
+"I deny that the system of caste is being undermined.  It may have
+overgrown itself and need pruning.  Some of the senseless subdivisions
+should be broken up; and we want reform in our marriage laws----"
+
+His eyes sought the figure of his sister as she gathered some starry
+blue flowers growing among the rank grass.
+
+"Even if the caste system were reformed," objected Ananda, "and the
+greatness of Hinduism established in the world, there are certain
+tenets of its faith that seem to me impossible for an educated and
+enlightened man to accept."
+
+"Such as----?"
+
+"Transmigration."
+
+"Ah, yes; I remember.  That was the rock you split on."
+
+"I cannot accept the weary round of those cycles of rebirths."
+
+"You accept a cycle of existence of some sort?"
+
+"Existence; life; immortality of the soul; yes."
+
+"Which implies existence prenatal and after physical death?"
+
+"Certainly; Mr. Alderbury says that the germ of that idea lies hidden
+in most religions."
+
+"If you admit so much, why can't you accept the transmigration theory?
+It accounts for all the suffering that exists.  It is a retributive
+system of perfect justice.  The pains you suffer now are due solely to
+your own actions in a previous embodiment; and your conduct now will
+predetermine your pleasure and pain in your next incarnation.  To me it
+is an acceptable theory relieving one of an enormous responsibility."
+
+"If you really believe such a theory in its entirety, why do you
+attempt to give that child pleasure?"
+
+Bopaul laughed but made no reply, and Ananda continued:
+
+"The hopeless retributive character of the theory of transmigration
+seems to militate against our faith in the transcendence of God.  The
+system imposes limits not consistent with His Infinitude.
+Transmigration may seem just and right from a human point of view; but
+it is too full of tragedy to be seriously regarded as the deliberate
+work of an unlimited Deity."
+
+"It does away with injustice," persisted Bopaul.
+
+"And grinds existence down to a mechanism," added Ananda.
+"Christianity gives something infinitely superior--a good and perfect
+God.  The knowledge of this Deity has come to us through Jesus Christ.
+He has shown us not a retributive mechanical Deity, but a great and
+wonderful Father who deals with us better than we deserve.  Though men
+may by their freedom of choice choose what ought to bring them to ruin,
+the desire of God expressed through Christ, the great teacher, is to
+save them from the consequences of their actions."
+
+"What good can pain and suffering do if it is not a mill of
+retribution?"
+
+"It is an education and a discipline in the government of self.  I
+speak personally for I have felt my position in my father's house more
+than a little.  You may not see any change in my character, but I know
+that my views on the brotherhood of man and the Fatherhood of God have
+altered.  I don't mind confessing that my attitude towards the pariah
+who acted as my servant by my parents' orders has modified.  They
+thought to humiliate me, but they have taught me a lesson.  I recognise
+his humanity and his good qualities."
+
+"Yet you can't take the food he brings you?"
+
+"No, I can't; to my shame be it said; for it distresses him to see me
+starve.  There's a wide gulf between theory and practice in his case,
+and for the present I prefer to starve."
+
+"Poor, weak, human nature!" said Bopaul with a laugh in which Ananda
+joined, although the subject was no laughing matter.
+
+"And if pain comes into the life of a child who is not old enough to
+have sinned; how do you account for it?" asked Bopaul returning to the
+charge.
+
+"To reply in detail to this and similar objections would require a
+greater knowledge of the spiritual world than even the apostles
+themselves possessed.  'Now we see through a glass darkly,' said St.
+Paul.  Later illumination will assuredly come.  The curtain was partly
+lifted when Christ was born.  At His second coming it will be entirely
+raised, and by that time our eyes will be strong enough to bear the
+light."
+
+There was silence which Bopaul broke with another question.
+
+"Does the missionary teach you that after death comes sleep?"
+
+"No; there is no stagnation in the spiritual world any more than there
+is in the material world.  The souls of the departed are possessed of
+conscious memory, and they have a sense of pain and pleasure.  I
+believe," he spoke solemnly and with shining eyes that seemed to look
+beyond the limit of the Hindu's mental vision, "that Coomara instead of
+being reborn as a dog or a reptile in this world has entered into new
+powers of vitality and energy in a spiritual world that far exceeds the
+limitations of this world.  He lived a blameless life according to his
+lights, and he has entered into another life in which there will be
+progression and development.  With his entry into that new life he will
+acquire new powers of comprehension.  There will be a great movement
+forward in spirituality between his state here on earth and the new
+estate in the world he has entered.  The step will be as great or
+greater than if a dog entered the human life and were endowed with
+human privileges."
+
+"Excepting that he died under the ban of broken caste, Coomara was
+without faults," acquiesced Bopaul.  "But I cannot disregard the
+teaching of the guru who says that because of that broken caste he must
+suffer."
+
+"And I say in all honest hope," cried Ananda in ringing tones that
+caused the widow to glance at him in surprise.  "I say that through the
+power of the Christian's Man-God, Jesus Christ, the Great All-Father in
+His mercy and love will receive Coomara to Himself, and preserve him
+from the fate you anticipate.  I think upon his prospects almost with
+envy.  There was a time when I could only shudder in terror at what was
+promised by our faith; but now I am satisfied that he is happy."
+
+"The Hindu faith does not deny a progression towards a better state
+after death," said Bopaul.
+
+"May be; but it limits improvement to merit; and the merit is made to
+depend not only upon the past deeds of the dead, but also upon the
+voluntary deeds of the living descendants of the dead.  A neglect of
+the shraddah ceremonies by the grandchildren to the fourth generation
+condemns the soul to inferior rebirth.  Those rites for the repose of
+the dead are monstrous in their assumption and ridiculous in their
+childish nature."
+
+"All rites seem ridiculous and meaningless if you judge them by their
+action alone," said Bopaul.
+
+"Yet you perform them slavishly," said Ananda turning on him.
+
+Bopaul laughed as though he shook off all responsibility for the reason
+of his actions.
+
+"I am what that Englishman called his friend, do you remember? 'a
+blatant ritualist.'  I love ceremonies.  They give me a comfortable
+sense of having done my duty to the gods and to men.  I feel as if I
+had got out of debt and was starting afresh with a clean page."
+
+"Do you really believe in them?" asked Ananda searching the face of the
+other in a vain endeavour to penetrate the superficial lightness with
+which Bopaul touched these matters.
+
+"The purohit and the guru believe in them.  My father pins his faith to
+them, and I am content to take their word for it."
+
+"And I am not!  To my mind the three great props of Hinduism are
+crumbling away in spite of your blind faith--transmigration, the
+immaculate authority of the Brahmans and their Vedas; and the caste
+system."
+
+"Rank treason!" cried Bopaul roused at last into something approaching
+excitement.  "It is as well that the guru doesn't hear you!  Caste will
+never die; it will change its constitution and become more social than
+religious.  The Vedas will have new exponents and the germs that lie
+hidden in them will be brought to light and understood.  Transmigration
+will be modified with a new theory of progression in a life in other
+spheres under different conditions of corporality from the earthly
+life; and Hinduism reformed will be greater than ever."
+
+"It can only be done through Christ," responded Ananda with the
+enthusiasm of the convert.  "Christianity will develop all the germs
+that lie fallow in Hinduism and will throw light in the dark places.
+Why is the west to monopolise a revelation that was originally given to
+the east?  Why is the west to appropriate to itself the emancipation
+and promises made by that revelation?  We have a right to claim Christ
+for ourselves," he concluded.  "I for one make that claim and no one
+shall deny me!"
+
+Again there was silence.  Then Bopaul, without any outward sign of
+excitement, remarked:
+
+"Haste is an evil counsellor.  You are asking for trouble and you will
+get it.  Tell me, have you had a decent lodging or meal since you have
+been under your father's roof?"
+
+Ananda calmed down under the material inquiry after his bodily welfare,
+and he replied in a subdued voice:
+
+"No, and I am not likely to get one as far as I can see unless, as I
+said, I accept it at the hands of the sweeper."
+
+"How do you exist?"
+
+"I have some biscuits and I buy a draught of water from the caste
+waterman in the town.  Mr. Alderbury very kindly brought me some food
+when he came to see me."
+
+"I can't bring you any food I am sorry to say.  My mother would
+consider it an unfriendly act towards your parents.  How is your money
+lasting?"
+
+"It is nearly finished."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"I haven't thought about it," replied Ananda, a troubled expression
+overshadowing his face.
+
+"I can lend you a little.  I brought it to-day, a ten rupee note.  It
+is all I have that I need not account for.  I can get plenty from my
+father, but he takes good care to inform himself of how and where it
+goes.  The note is in this envelope.  Don't let my sister see it; she
+might tell my mother.  Just slip it into your pocket as quickly as you
+can."
+
+He held out his hand to Mayita.  "Come, little one, it is time we went
+home."
+
+At the entrance to the compound Bopaul stopped.
+
+"Take my advice and go to Mr. Alderbury," he said suddenly.
+
+"Not without my wife."
+
+"She will never join you."
+
+"That remains to be proved," replied Ananda unconvinced.
+
+"And remember that as a 'vert you have no conjugal rights," to which
+remark the other did not reply.
+
+Dorama still furtively watching saw Ananda return slowly and enter the
+mean little yard into which his still meaner room opened.  The smell of
+the curry prepared for the midday meal of the household met her
+nostrils.
+
+"How does he continue to live and look so strong and handsome?  He
+refuses to eat the food sent by the sweeper.  Ah! it should be given by
+my hand, the hand of his wife.  It is my right.  Husband! come to me!
+In your need, your hunger, cannot you hear the voice of your wife
+calling!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+The house of Pantulu Iyer was neither cheerful nor happy.  The master
+himself had aged visibly since the arrival of his son.  The signs were
+to be seen in the stooping figure and listless gait.  He had grown
+thinner, and his appetite was failing.  No matter how carefully the
+food was prepared he refused to eat, complaining sometimes that it was
+not palatable; at other times he asked with a querulousness that was
+not habitual, how they could expect him to eat when he knew that his
+dearly loved son was starving.
+
+All day long he sat and moped either in the verandah of the inner
+courtyard, or in the front room that opened by the big door on the
+carriage drive.  The door was kept shut and he seldom passed beyond it.
+If a friend came to call he refused to see him; and if any member of
+the family with the best intentions of amusing him attempted to talk to
+him, he dismissed him curtly.
+
+His gloom had a depressing effect on his wife; and for the sake of the
+household as well as her own she begged him to rouse himself.  She
+suggested visits to his looms in the town and to his silk farms in the
+suburbs.  The office books were brought, and at her direction his
+younger brother read aloud the carefully-kept accounts, showing how the
+business had increased and how the prosperity of his ventures was
+assured; but these and all other devices failed to rouse his interest.
+With the aptitude for fostering misery, a peculiarity of fatalism, he
+resigned himself to his circumstances and refused to make any struggle
+against what he believed to be the inevitable.
+
+In addition to the anxiety caused by her husband's melancholia, Gunga
+was further disturbed by the state of her grandson's health.  At the
+time when Dorama let him fall from her unconscious arms he had not
+shown any sign of having sustained any injury.  Beyond a few bruises no
+serious harm was apparent.  At the end of a week the child complained
+of pains in his back and hip.  He lost his activity and his good
+spirits; was disinclined to move and was always craving to be nursed by
+his mother or one of the women of the house.
+
+A prompt examination of the hip and spine by a skilled surgeon might
+have discovered the mischief and given relief; but skilled surgery was
+not obtainable from the native apothecary nor from the native doctor.
+A vaityan--as the Hindu medical man is called, a person without any
+scientific knowledge--was summoned, and he prescribed for fever.  As
+the medicine failed to have any beneficial effect, he declared that the
+child was suffering from the effects of the glance of an evil eye.  He
+must have come under its influence in some way unknown to his mother.
+Where had she carried him or led him?
+
+There was a searching back into memory for occasions when an evil eye
+might have rested upon him.  Some one recalled the events of the day
+following Ananda's arrival home, how he appeared on the verandah in
+front of the open door and how the child ran towards him.  It was also
+noted how the father of the boy had fixed his eye upon him with a great
+eagerness of possession.
+
+The vaityan was more than satisfied that in the incident they had found
+a solution of the mystery.  The unconscious longing awakened in the
+father at the sight of his child had given birth to a natural curse of
+the disappointment of his desire.  If he could not have the child
+himself no one should have him.  The baneful influence of the thought
+in the man's mind was working for evil in the boy's body.
+
+This pronouncement did not tend to allay the irritation felt throughout
+the family against the son who had brought the shadow of sorrow upon
+his father's house.
+
+The vaityan prescribed different medicine, and in addition recommended
+the performance of certain rites that were supposed to have the power
+of warding off spells.  He solemnly tied an amulet specially prepared
+on the child's arm.  The floor of the room where the boy slept was to
+be strewn with margosa leaves gathered fresh every day; and he was to
+drink the milk of a black goat that had not a single white hair.
+
+The execution of these numerous orders served to occupy the time and
+attention of the women; at the same time they kept alive the irritation
+against Ananda for being the cause of the trouble.
+
+In the midst of it all the guru appeared accompanied by his disciple.
+He had come unexpectedly and without invitation to learn why the
+restitution rites were not performed.  Reasonable delay he was prepared
+to permit; but if there was a wilful deferring of the ceremonies it was
+his duty to exhort and persuade into speedy amendment.
+
+The grave countenance of the swami struck terror into the hearts of the
+little company that hastily assembled to do him honour.  Pantulu fell
+at his feet in a humble prostration; and Gunga followed his example.
+As neither offered any explanation Pantulu's brother took upon himself
+the office of spokesman.  He described all that had happened; Ananda's
+conversion to Christianity in England; the punishments that had been
+inflicted when it was found that he not only refused to recant, but
+also declined to take any part in the restitution ceremonies.  The guru
+was told how he was lodged and served; of the attempts that had been
+made to degrade him and starve him; and how he had not been permitted
+to see either wife or child.
+
+The great man listened in silence; and when the story was ended the
+more timid ones of the little company trembled in apprehension of an
+outburst of anathema and general condemnation.  It did not come.  The
+expression on his face was severe but the words that fell from his lips
+sounded strangely mild and gentle.
+
+"We must look into this matter and see what can be done.  Let the child
+be brought; I am told that he is not well."
+
+Every one from Pantulu downwards was sensible of relief.  The anxiety
+that weighed so heavily was lifted and placed temporarily upon stronger
+shoulders.  Where they had failed in their methods the swami might
+succeed, and the heir of the house be restored to them.  What a
+rejoicing and feasting there would be! was the thought that ran through
+the minds of many of the women.  The only person who differed in this
+attitude was Pantulu's brother.  Slowly and insidiously he was stepping
+into the position rendered vacant by Ananda's apostacy to the faith of
+his fathers.  The little Royan would inherit his grandfather's wealth,
+and during the long minority his great uncle would be practically
+master of the house and guardian of the person of the minor; but in the
+event of the child's death Sooba would be the heir.
+
+The drooping child with pathetic signs of pain in his pinched features
+was brought to the guru who examined him closely and confirmed the
+opinion of the vaityan.  The boy, he said, was placed under the
+displeasure of the gods and was suffering for his father's sins.  If he
+died--he shook his head solemnly, not thinking of the inheritance but
+of the future state.  The company did not require to be told the fate
+of a child dying under such circumstances.
+
+Then Pantulu in a trembling voice described his own bodily failings,
+loss of appetite and sleep, weakness of limbs and an ebbing away of
+vitality that could only mean the approach of death.
+
+Again the oracle assumed a severe expression.  What could be expected
+but the withering and drooping of the parent when the son was so
+inhumanly wicked as to break away from his ancestral faith?  He would
+consider what was best to be done, and consult with the brother of the
+sick man.  Then the family offered up thanks and adoration, each member
+prostrating him or herself before the guru as he withdrew to the room
+assigned for his use.  Sooba followed and the door was closed on the
+two men.
+
+The interview lasted some time and advice was given that was virtually
+a command.  Sooba would not divulge what it was until the moment
+arrived for action.  Only to Gunga did he give a hint of what the great
+man intended to do; and she expressed her full approval.
+
+"And if this should fail?" she asked with a sinking heart for she knew
+the strength of her son's obstinacy.
+
+Her brother-in-law lowered his voice and replied in a whisper.  Her
+head was bent and she made no reply; but her lips closed firmly.
+
+"You will not speak to my husband on this matter.  He is too weak, too
+feeble to deal with it," she said later.
+
+"It will be best to keep him in ignorance--until the orders of the
+swami have been carried out," answered Sooba.  "I have your consent to
+act?"
+
+"There is no other way of bringing him to reason; and who am I to
+contradict and oppose one who speaks with the authority of the gods?"
+replied Gunga, sadly.
+
+On the following morning, after Ananda had risen from his hard,
+uncomfortable bed and breakfasted on some hot milk and biscuits, he was
+surprised at receiving a visit from his uncle.  The cup that had
+contained the milk had been replaced in the tiffin basket with the tin
+of biscuits, and no trace was discernible to the sharp eyes of the
+visitor of the simple morning meal.
+
+In a more courteous tone than had been adopted by any member of the
+family hitherto, he asked Ananda to accompany him into the house.  At
+first there was a very natural hesitation to obey such an unexpected
+summons; but on second thoughts Ananda deemed it wiser to go than to
+refuse.  For all he could tell it might be the first sign of relenting.
+
+He closed the book he was reading, placed it upon the table, and
+without a word followed his uncle through the compound to the front of
+the house.  Side by side they mounted the steps that led into the
+verandah.  The big door stood open, and they passed through it into the
+entrance-room.  Bidding him stay there his uncle left him for a few
+minutes.
+
+The door leading into the centre courtyard was wide open, and through
+it he caught sight of some of the women of the household, as they moved
+in and out of the kitchen and its offices in the execution of their
+domestic duties.  His eye sought eagerly for the familiar figure of his
+wife or child, but no trace of them or of his parents was visible.
+
+As he gazed into the sunlit yard memories crowded back upon him
+thickly.  The place was full of associations connected with his
+childish games, the idle chatter of his boyhood, the visit of the guru
+and the purohit when they came to perform ceremonies that once were so
+full of awe and mystery; and that now by the light of the new teaching
+seemed so futile and childish.
+
+In the midst of his reverie his uncle reappeared, and leading him to a
+room signed to him to enter.  He heard the door close behind him and
+knew that his companion had not followed.
+
+Ananda scarcely dared to believe his eyes.  In front of him stood
+Dorama, not a sad tearful repellent Dorama; but a loving, expectant
+wife, happy and confident.
+
+She was dressed as a bride in a rich silk saree.  Her neck, arms and
+hair gleamed with gold and precious stones.  Jasmine blossom peeped
+from the strands of her glossy hair.  Her complexion was heightened by
+the subtle use of saffron, and there was an alluring scent of sandal
+wood in the air.
+
+He strode towards her impetuously; gathered her into his arms pressing
+passionate kisses upon her unresisting mouth.  The thirst of his heart
+was not easily assuaged.  He lost count of time; his eyes were blind to
+everything but the beautiful woman who nestled against his breast with
+inarticulate murmurs of contentment.  His pulses leaped as he realised
+that his kisses were returned.  She loved him!  She was his!  How the
+clouds parted and rolled aside at the assurance!
+
+A hand was laid upon his shoulder with no light touch, and they were
+forced apart.  Ananda turned angrily upon the intruder who dared to
+interpose and found himself face to face with the guru.  Yielding in
+his surprise to the old instinctive habit of his youth he placed his
+hands together palm to palm.
+
+"Pardon, swami; I did not know that you were present," he said.  "I
+thought I was alone with my wife."
+
+For all his humility and deference there was a note of pride in his
+tone that jarred on the ear of the man who arrogated to himself the
+attributes of a god.  The words seemed to imply that the third person
+present at such a meeting, whoever he might be, was an intruder; and
+that the sooner he departed the better pleased the husband would be.
+
+As for Dorama her head sank upon her breast in what appeared to be an
+overwhelming fit of outraged modesty.  Inwardly she was glowing under
+that ardent embrace, tingling to her finger tips, every nerve thrilled
+by his possessive touch.  She had been well tutored beforehand as to
+her conduct, how she was to do all in her power to attract her errant
+husband and draw him back to her; how she was to appeal to him by words
+and tears and pray him to return.  The programme thus mapped out for
+her did not include the unexpected greeting, and she felt confused.
+Ananda had begun at the wrong end and cut the ground on which she was
+to base her pleading from beneath her feet.  She drew aside leaving the
+swami to speak.
+
+"I have arranged for you to see your wife and speak with her.  She is
+also to hear what I have to say to you.  I understand that you have
+refused the rites that should restore your caste----"
+
+"I have become a Christian and I have received the Christian rite of
+baptism.  Under those circumstances the Hindu rites are unnecessary,"
+interrupted Ananda, careful to preserve the courtesy rendered
+instinctively by a man of good caste to an equal.
+
+"It matters not what you call yourself," replied his former spiritual
+teacher with a lowering glance; "nor does it signify in the least what
+strange ceremonies you may have seen fit to go through in England.
+They can all be cast aside like the blanket clothing you were obliged
+to adopt when the frost and snow came.  The delayed rites must be
+performed, and I am here to see that they are properly carried out."
+
+The guru restrained himself with difficulty.  Ananda's independent
+attitude and simple courage roused his anger.  The great man could not
+fail to observe that he had very little hold on the attention of his
+hearers.  Already Ananda was turning impatiently to the woman as though
+he had disposed of the intruder and swept him off his horizon by the
+announcement of his change of faith.
+
+"Wife, where is the child, our child?  My eyes ache for a sight of him!"
+
+"He is not well."
+
+"Not well?  How is that?" he asked with parental concern that sounded
+sweet to her unaccustomed ears.
+
+"He pines for his father," she replied falteringly.
+
+"Tell him how he has laid a curse not only on the child but also on his
+parents," broke in the swami unable to keep silence.  "The curse will
+extend to his wife as well, if she fails to draw him back from his evil
+ways."
+
+She looked from one to the other, trembling under the stern eye of the
+swami.
+
+"Husband will you not return to us?  The big father pines for a sight
+of his son.  The old eyes are blind through tears.  The child----!" she
+stopped unable to command her voice.  "Husband!" she continued.  "Your
+wife more than all pines also.  The day is long and weary without you.
+The night is unbearable in its misery.  Will you not come to us, our
+lord and master?"
+
+She held out her arms, and again he would have clasped her to himself;
+but in accordance with instructions given by no less a person than the
+swami himself she drew back; and the guru by a slight movement glided
+in between them.
+
+"The reward is ready and waits with impatience," said the swami, his
+lips parting for a moment and showing the white teeth in a smile that
+was not born of kindness or pity.  "But you are not ready for the
+reward."
+
+Ananda ignored the speech and continued to address Dorama with
+increasing emotion.
+
+"Come?  Will I not come?  Beloved, I will come!  I am ready; I have
+been waiting till my heart was sick with longing.  Wife!" he cried
+passionately, "I claim you as my own unconditionally.  I command you to
+join me.  Come willingly if you can; but willing or unwilling I shall
+not cease trying to regain my rights."
+
+"You have no rights!" cried the guru, a definite challenge in his voice.
+
+"That remains to be seen," replied Ananda shortly, as though he grudged
+the precious moments wasted in speech with any one but his wife.  He
+turned to her again.  "Beloved!  There is no reason why you should not
+come to me now."
+
+Hot words of desperate pleading fell from his lips.  He had no more
+regard for the presence of the swami than for a yellow lizard on the
+wall.  Dorama listened with charmed ears, her lips apart in a smile
+that set her husband's pulses throbbing.  She too under the magical
+influence of long deferred love was unconscious of the presence that
+overshadowed them.
+
+She had promised faithfully to plead the cause of Hinduism, but
+religion was forgotten.  Love and love alone was paramount.  Nothing
+else mattered.  Her eyes shone with a light that spoke volumes to both
+men, bringing joy and hope to Ananda but misgiving to the guru.  He had
+not calculated on the turn events had taken.  The warm impulsive
+greeting between husband and wife had been out of his reckoning.  The
+magical effect of touch had been undreamed of.
+
+Another factor that had not been considered was Ananda's matured
+manhood.  The timid boy whom the guru had instructed in the old days
+with fatherly authority was gone, and in his place stood an individual
+of strong character developed in the hard school of persecution.  It
+was not easy for the guru to obtain a hearing.  He seized upon a pause
+when the husband having made his appeal waited for his wife's reply.
+
+"Woman!" he cried, in a rough overbearing voice.  "Tell your husband
+under what conditions you will consent to join him."
+
+Dorama gave the swami a frightened glance, and began in a faltering
+voice as though she were repeating a half-learned lesson.
+
+"If my lord will consent to the rites being performed----"
+
+"Beloved wife! light of my eyes! joy of my heart! the ceremonies that
+made me your husband were long ago performed.  They need not be
+repeated!"
+
+"She means----" began the guru in a still louder voice than he had
+addressed Dorama.
+
+Ananda took a step forward and in tones that echoed round the room,
+said--
+
+"Silence, swami, silence!  Let the husband plead with his wife.  All
+the world over the rule holds good that the wife shall listen to her
+husband; aye, and obey him!"
+
+"Outcaste, and cursed of the gods!  She is no wife of yours!"
+
+"Christian or Hindu, we are one, she and I whatever you may say!"
+Again he turned to Dorama.  "My lotus bud, my pearl!  Do not listen to
+his words.  Believe me you are mine for ever.  Do you remember our
+marriage, not the mere ceremonies that made you mine; but the after
+rites when they gave you into my arms?  We were so young then!  We were
+like children half grown and only half awake.  Now, now, loved one! my
+own little wife! we are awake, yes, awake and waiting and longing!
+Come, beloved!  We have waited too long!"
+
+The words poured from his lips in an irresistible torrent, and the guru
+was powerless to stop them.  At their conclusion Ananda moved towards
+his wife who stood with hands clasped, her face turned to his.
+
+"Back, back!" cried the guru in threatening accents.
+
+"Come, come, beloved!"
+
+With a swift decisive movement Ananda thrust aside the intervening body
+of the guru; and Dorama half sobbing, half laughing, and wholly sweet
+and yielding, was once again in his strong embrace; once, again in
+spite of the terrible presence of the swami, she felt his lips upon
+hers and dared--yes, dared to give back kiss for kiss.  Then she felt
+herself put away with the same purposeful force.
+
+"Go, little one, go before the swami curse you," he said in her ear.
+Dropping his voice to a whisper he continued rapidly.  "You know where
+to find me.  If your heart is brave enough to seek your husband, come
+by day or in the dead of night, beloved, and you will find your place
+in these arms.  Now go, light of my eyes, my priceless jewel!"
+
+As he spoke he gently pushed her to the door and, opening it, thrust
+her out, closing it after her.  He returned to the middle of the room
+and looked the guru squarely in the face.
+
+"Now, swami," he said temperately; "speak out!  Say what you have to
+say as man to man.  I am ready to listen.  Curse me if you like by all
+your gods.  Your curses cannot hurt."
+
+The unflinching gaze that accompanied this speech told the guru more
+plainly than words that as far as Ananda was concerned his authority
+was called in question, his influence was gone and his godhead denied.
+"As man to man," Ananda had said.  There was no recognition of
+twice-born infallibility in that sentence.  The guru ground his teeth
+in his rage.  He knew what it meant; it was the attitude of the cursed
+Christian towards the Brahman.  The Brahman and Christian met as man to
+man on a common human platform; and the man without caste, the follower
+of a strange faith that denied the Hindu deities claimed to be equal
+with the divinely born exponent of the Vedas, the being of exalted
+caste who was immune from sin.  He, the guru, the swami, in whose body
+resided the mantric essence, the soul of the deity, he who was sinless,
+was thrust from his pedestal by one whom he had instructed in his youth!
+
+Words failed him and he was speechless; he had lost command of his
+tongue and he could neither curse nor upbraid.  Not only had Ananda
+spoken to him as an equal, but when he would have interposed between
+husband and wife, the apostate had laid a vigorous hand on him full of
+strength and determination and had put him aside.  Never before had he
+been addressed in that manner, and never had such a thing been heard of
+as to touch the sacred person of a swami with a sacrilegious hand.
+
+The warm shades of his skin yellowed and he gasped as he made for the
+door.  With a strange courtesy learned in England Ananda passed before
+him, lifted the latch and held the door open.  The guru strode from the
+room transported with a rage that knew no bounds; and Ananda even as he
+rejoiced in his triumph wondered vaguely in what form the man's
+vengeance would fall.  God grant that it might be directed against
+himself, and not against the beautiful woman who had so lately nestled
+in his arms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+Ananda's interview with his wife and the guru produced a curious
+result.  It not only roused him out of meek resignation, but it
+stimulated his nerves, strengthened his will, and focussed his mental
+vision on the situation created by his conversion to Christianity.  It
+was as though a certain visible growth had begun; the fruit of that
+growth promised to be action.
+
+Hitherto his policy had been one of waiting and of patience amounting
+to little less than apathy.  He had been drifting and existing rather
+than acting and living.  It is true that the passive period was not
+without its advantage.
+
+The plant that shows no shoot above ground is not necessarily dormant
+and idle.  There may be great activity underneath the soil.  It was so
+with Ananda.  Strong roots capable of standing the stress of mental
+disturbance developed.  From them were to spring actions that would be
+marked by endurance and fortitude, where formerly there had been
+weakness and timidity.
+
+As he held the soft yielding figure of his wife in his arms he was
+conscious of a concentration of purpose he had never experienced
+before.  The waiting policy insensibly died.  Definite determination
+took the place of vague desire.  He resolved to strike out a line for
+himself.  The object of it should be to gain possession of his wife and
+child and to find a means of providing a home for them both.  With this
+determination came the conviction that his wishes could not be
+fulfilled by remaining any longer under his father's roof.  He must
+leave home as soon as possible.  The opportunity for so doing had been
+offered, but he had refused it.  He must reconsider it.  There was no
+necessity to write, it would be better not to do so lest by any chance
+the letter was tampered with.  He was aware that he would be watched
+and spied upon more than ever after what had passed between himself and
+the guru; he must be cautious if he wished to escape.  Alderbury, he
+was sure, would give him a warm welcome, and again proffer the helping
+hand.
+
+He counted the change left out of Bopaul's ten rupee note.  There was
+more than enough left to pay for his journey to the headquarters of the
+mission, whether he went by road or by rail.
+
+The next question to be considered was the best means of getting away
+from the house with his luggage without raising opposition or provoking
+assault.  The only servant at his disposal was the pariah, and his good
+offices were restricted by the fact that he had again been forbidden to
+wait on the young master any longer.  His visits had to be paid
+secretly and at night.  The man need not have come at all; but with
+that fidelity so often found among the lower people of India who serve
+their superiors, he remained faithful to the son of the house whom he
+had known and worshipped from a distance as a child and boy.
+
+When the lights were extinguished and voices ceased murmuring in the
+women's rooms, the untouchable, as the caste people termed the pariah,
+crept softly into the little yard and entered the room where Ananda
+slept.  By the dim light of the tumbler lamp he performed the duties he
+had been forbidden to do.  With quick, silent fingers he tidied the
+room, cleaned the shoes and filled the earthen chafing-dish with fresh
+charcoal.  So quiet was he in all his movements that his master's deep
+sleep was undisturbed till the moment when a gentle rattle of the
+milkcan against the compound wall outside told of the arrival of the
+milkman with his cow.  Even then the faithful servitor, remembering his
+uncleanness, forbore to lay a hand upon the recumbent figure.  Kneeling
+by his side he uttered the loud chirrup of the wall-lizard until the
+sound pierced the brain of the sleeper.  Then Ananda rose, and, taking
+up the milk-bottle that belonged to his tiffin-basket, went to fetch
+the milk.  The pariah watched, and when his master returned he blew up
+the charcoal on which the coffee was to be made.  No conversation
+passed between the two.  The one received and the other gave his
+services without thanks or apology.  Yet Ananda was not ungrateful.
+
+Although nothing of any consequence was said, this curious intimacy had
+a beneficial effect upon the 'vert.  Unconsciously he was learning that
+wonderful lesson of Christianity--the brotherhood of man.  His
+repugnance to the pariah was decreasing, and he no longer shrank with
+disgust as his eye fell upon his figure.  The books given by Alderbury
+contained much that bore on the subject, and Ananda had had plenty of
+leisure to absorb their contents, with the result that in his desperate
+need he was able to turn without repulsion to the only human being who
+could render help.
+
+In the small hours of the morning after Ananda's interview with Dorama,
+the usual routine had been observed, while scarcely a word passed
+between the two.  The man was turning away to leave, having blown up
+the chafing-dish of live coal, when Ananda called softly to him.  He
+stopped at once, and salaamed, wondering what his master could have to
+say if it was not complaint at some unconscious shortcoming in his
+service.
+
+"I must leave my father's house, and I require your help."
+
+Again the pariah touched his forehead with both hands; then, placing
+them together, palm to palm, he listened deferentially to Ananda's
+explanation and instructions.  He was to bring a cart to take the
+luggage to the station in time to catch the night mail of that day.
+
+The pariah prostrated himself and lifted his folded hands in entreaty.
+
+"Sir! this unworthy slave prays your honour to be careful.  There are
+men in the town who openly declare that if they meet your excellency
+they will beat you and drive away the Christian devil which they say
+has entered the noble body of the presence.  During the day they wait
+outside hoping to catch your honour walking.  There is danger also in
+the house."
+
+"Danger!" repeated Ananda quickly.  "How is that?  Stand up and tell me
+about it."
+
+The man rose apologetically to his feet and continued his story.
+
+"My wife sweeps out the back yard where the refuse is thrown.  She
+heard one of the kitchen women telling the girl from the market that
+the swami departed in anger, and that his wrath must be appeased,
+otherwise worse misfortune will befall the family.  He left orders with
+the small master, the brother of our most noble big master, that your
+excellency was not to be allowed to leave the grounds."
+
+"How can he stop me?" asked Ananda, with some heat.
+
+"By the aid of the men who watch outside."
+
+"Are they there all night?"
+
+"No, sir; they do not think that you will try to leave secretly and at
+night.  Where could your honour go to hide, they say?  Every
+hiding-place is known to them, and no one in the town would dare to
+give shelter against the wishes of Pantulu Iyer's family.  Great care
+will be needed in leaving your honourable father's house without
+permission."
+
+Ananda was silent.  The fact that he was living in a state of siege
+that might very soon become close imprisonment was being forced upon
+him.  It was an unpleasant truth, but one to which he could not remain
+blind.  His conviction that he must get away as speedily as possible
+grew; and the sweeper was right in urging upon him the necessity of
+caution if he wished to ensure success in carrying out his intentions.
+
+The coffee seethed on the live coals.  As he removed the pot he
+motioned to the pariah instinctively to stand away.  The action was an
+involuntary response to the inherited prejudice.  He was obeyed
+instantly and without resentment.  The man retired to the doorway, and
+would have passed out into the darkness had it not been for another
+command.
+
+"Come back, I have not finished what I have to say.  Tell me, what do
+you think ought to be done?"
+
+The other glanced at him in surprise, although he did not venture to
+express it.  Had ever one of the twice-born been heard to ask the
+advice of a sweeper?  If he should dare to say in the hearing of men of
+caste that he had been thus consulted, he would be beaten for his
+presumption until his back streamed with blood.
+
+With ever-recurring apology for daring to advise so great an
+excellency, he unfolded a plan of escape which seemed to Ananda, the
+more he considered it, the only possible means of getting away.  The
+excellency was to pack his property into parcels and bundles which the
+sweeper would convey away in the night with the assistance of his wife
+and son to some safe hiding-place in the jungle.  The portmanteaux must
+be left behind, empty, or suspicion would be roused if by chance one of
+the family paid a visit to the master.  On the second night after the
+household had retired Ananda was to steal quietly away and walk to a
+station some distance from the town, where he would not be recognised.
+The sweeper and his relatives would act as carriers for his luggage.
+His sister who served the College excellency would obtain a day's
+holiday from the housekeeper and help.  All might be relied upon for
+keeping the secret, and his honour need have no fear.
+
+Ananda made only one suggestion, that he should start with them and
+take the train twenty-four hours earlier.  To this the man objected on
+the score of requiring more time to make the arrangements for the night
+march.  When Ananda spoke of a reward the pariah protested vehemently
+that none was required.  Some day in the future, when his honour had
+grown rich, perhaps he would allow his son and daughter to serve him--a
+promise easy to give and easy to perform when the time should come.
+The crowing of cocks fell on their ears, and the men started.
+
+"I must be going, sir.  The women will soon awake and be moving to the
+cattle shed.  Your excellency must forgive this worthless servant for
+touching your honour's sacred property; but there is no other way," he
+said deprecatingly.
+
+"It is forgiven," replied Ananda, remembering how roughly he had bidden
+that same man on his arrival to leave his trunks alone.  Rather than
+have them contaminated by his touch he had himself hauled them into his
+room.  "Did you not carry the Englishman's food basket for him?  Then
+surely you may carry my clothing without offence."
+
+All day Ananda was busy in the privacy of his little den, putting his
+personal belongings together in handy portable parcels, tying some in
+bundles when his limited supply of brown paper and string came to an
+end.  Quiet reigned over the house; and if he chanced to look out of
+the door no one crossed his line of vision in the compound.  By the
+afternoon he had finished.  He put on his cap to take a little walk.
+Beyond the wall that bounded the grounds he caught sight of two or
+three figures.  They would have attracted no attention had it not been
+for the warning of the pariah.  The man was correct.  Undoubtedly he
+was being watched as far as the outside of the house was concerned, and
+with no friendly intention either; but as long as he remained indoors
+he was left severely alone.  This was satisfactory, as the sight of his
+preparations would rouse suspicion and endanger the success of his
+scheme.
+
+His eyes frequently sought that part of the house in which he knew were
+the women's quarters.  The small jealously-shuttered windows gave no
+hint of what was passing behind the Venetians.  Was Dorama there?  Did
+she seek for a glimpse of her husband as eagerly as he craved for a
+sight of his wife?
+
+He paced up and down, book in hand, his thoughts busy elsewhere.  The
+luggage was ready in its new form, and it was to be carried off that
+very night.  In the small hours of the following night he would quietly
+slip away, and thus cut himself adrift for ever from the home of his
+birth.
+
+Again he searched the landscape.  A strong desire to see and speak once
+more with his wife lay at the back of his mind.  He wanted to tell her
+of his plans; to ask her to wait and to beg of her to join him as soon
+as he had a shelter to offer her.
+
+He cudgelled his brains for some device by which a message might be
+conveyed in safety, and could only think of the sweeper.  The pariah
+servant had no opportunity, however, of approaching the lady Dorama
+within speaking distance.  Even if chance favoured the messenger he
+would be unable to carry out his mission.  At the mere sight of him she
+would shrink away with all the prejudice of her caste, and resent the
+smallest breach of the caste law.  The pariah, by the unwritten law,
+could not do otherwise than maintain the prescribed distance between
+her and himself.  If he dropped a letter in her path or placed it where
+she might find it, his contaminating touch would be sufficient for her
+avoidance of the missive.  Moreover, a written letter was of no use.
+She could neither read nor write.  His only hope was in a chance
+interview, and as the hours slipped by the hope grew fainter.
+
+The following day passed heavily.  The luggage was safely removed
+without accident.  His books and writing materials were gone with the
+rest of his property, and he would not see them again till he arrived
+at the distant station.  He had biscuits with him and some
+pomegranates.  The sharp sweetness of the juice served to assuage his
+thirst.
+
+He went out into the compound as often as he dared.  It did not do to
+spend too much time in the open, since it had not been his habit.  It
+might be remarked upon.  He noted the figures beyond the wall, and knew
+that he was being watched with the same vigilance as was shown
+yesterday and the day before.  Frequently his eye turned towards the
+blue-green mountain mass with its dark-grey rocks and heavy forest.
+Then he looked back at the familiar building, the home of his
+ancestors, and once the hot unshed tears made his eyes smart at the
+thought of leaving it.  The blood rushed to his head and back again to
+his heart with a violence that almost threw him off his mental balance.
+Could he muster up strength enough to abandon all that the home meant?
+Would he have the courage when the moment came to sever the ties that
+bound him to father, mother, wife--no, not wife!  She and the child
+would follow by and by.  He refused to entertain any doubt on the
+subject.
+
+All the same, he was conscious of a shudder, the kind of inward quake
+experienced by the soldier at the sound of the first bullet whizzing
+over his head on the battlefield.  He checked it at once and took a
+fresh grip of himself, sternly and resolutely shutting down sentiment
+and its companion emotion.
+
+"I can't go back!  I can't go back!  There is nothing but hideous
+darkness behind me.  I must go forward.  The light is in front!  Ah!
+dear Christ, the Son of God! lead me forward in safety!  Lead me on!"
+
+The mental disturbance passed as suddenly as it had overwhelmed him.
+Once more he was conscious of a great peace.  It was as though he had
+entered that wonderful temple of God standing in the heart of London,
+where the strains of the organ rise above the roar of the streets, and
+where a man may feel that he is in the presence of the living God of
+Love, the Father of the Universe.
+
+The sun dropped behind a shoulder of the mountain, and the sky broke
+into a glory of many colours.  He watched it until it faded.  Suddenly
+he was startled by a sound.  As the last ray left the top of the hill
+and the forest mantled into a sombre green, a wail arose in the women's
+rooms.  It was followed by the beat of a tomtom.
+
+He stood at the entrance of the yard and listened.  As the light faded
+the wailing increased.  He could distinguish by the sound of the voices
+a movement.  They were leaving the house for the garden.
+
+Yes!  He knew the ritual of old!  Some one was dying, and death was
+close at hand.  The man or woman--he started as the thought struck him
+that it might be his father--had been carried out of the house and laid
+upon mother earth to breathe his last.
+
+How well he remembered the ceremonies with which death was greeted; the
+lifting with tender care of the dying from the cot or mat and the
+gentle placing of the gasping patient upon the smooth ground.  Close by
+grew the sacred tulsi, without which no spirit could take its flight in
+peace.  He could picture his mother bending over the plant to gather a
+sprig.  He fancied he could smell the aromatic scent of the broken
+stalk of sweet basil as she placed the sprig above the head of the
+sufferer--perhaps touching the dry lips with it, leading as she did so
+the wail of mourning.
+
+The chorus of women's voices swelled on the evening air; the whole
+household must be joining in.  Who could it be?  The pariah had said
+nothing of any illness in the family.  If it had been his father the
+man would have mentioned it.  He concluded that it must be one of the
+many relatives who lived in the house.  Some of them had joined the
+family during his absence in England; others had grown out of
+knowledge; it was useless for him to conjecture.
+
+The presence of death is always a solemn moment, even though the person
+may not be known.  Ananda remained standing by the entrance of the
+yard, his eyes turned towards the west, but his ears bent to catch
+every sound that came from the house.  Each change in the note of grief
+spoke eloquently of the ebbing life, and he listened for the final
+cries that would betoken the drawing of the last breath.
+
+The colour died out of the sky except upon the horizon, which glowed
+with a vivid luminous green.  The steady yellow light of the evening
+star shone in the wake of the sun's path.  Bats fluttered in the air,
+following the strong-winged moth that sought the almond-scented
+blossoms of the oleander.  In the distance the faint hum of the town
+rose occasionally and died away again.  A cart went slowly by, its
+axles groaning as the bullocks plodded along, urged by the guttural
+shouts of the sleepy driver.
+
+The wailing in the house stopped and silence reigned.  The stars grew
+brighter and the living green of the west was lost in darkening greys.
+An owl in the distant forest sent forth a discordant shriek.  As if in
+reply the familiar note of grief was renewed in slightly different
+tones mingled with a violent tomtoming.
+
+Death had come; and the patient, whoever he or she might be, had drawn
+the last breath.
+
+Memory was busy with the past once more.  Sad though the sound of
+mourning might be, it belonged to his life.  Death without those
+accompanying sounds would not seem to be death, any more than marriage
+would seem to be marriage without the dancing girls and their
+love-songs.
+
+He had renounced all such things and set them aside for ever.  Again,
+with a determined effort, he thrust sentiment aside and shut his ears
+to the mourning.  All night long the mourners would be up and busy over
+the preparations for the disposal of the body the next day.  There was
+no reason why he should not sleep however.  He had a long walk before
+him.  The sweeper was to meet him at the station in the morning at
+eight o'clock, and he was to take the train that was due soon after
+that hour.  He intended starting between three and four.  The road was
+familiar.  India is not troubled with too many by-paths.  Even if the
+route had been unknown to him, he could not easily have missed it.
+
+He retired to his room and threw himself upon his charpoy bed.  He
+could still hear the monotonous wailing, but it was not disturbing.
+Having reassured himself that it could not possibly be his father, he
+troubled no more about the unknown dead.  On the whole it was fortunate
+that the household was occupied with its own affairs.  There was less
+likelihood of attention being directed towards himself.  His escape
+ought to be easy, and, thus thinking, he fell asleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+Ananda lay in a deep, dreamless sleep, the restful slumber of a healthy
+man whose mind was as wholesome as his body.  One hand was tucked under
+his cheek, the other was thrown forward and hung slightly over the edge
+of the cot.  All his troubles, his doubts and fears, his deprivations
+and hardships, lately inflicted, were forgotten.  It was the best
+preparation he could have for entrance on the new life, when he would
+have to live "by the sweat of his brow," like a multitude of good men
+who had gone before him, and others who would come after him.
+
+He had had four hours of solid sleep without stirring, when he became
+aware of a touch upon the hand that rested on the border of the bed.
+It was a soft, coaxing touch that sent an electric message to his
+brain.  In the old days before he went to England that same touch had
+often roused him at dawn.  He lifted his head and breathed one word:
+
+"Wife!"
+
+"I am here!" came the ready response.
+
+She was in his arms the next moment, clinging to him whilst convulsive
+sobs--stifled, but none the less strong--shook her from head to foot.
+
+At first words failed them both, he in his astonishment and she in the
+violence of her grief; but as tears relieved the overburdened brain of
+the woman she regained sufficient command of herself to speak.
+
+"Our little son!--my baby!  He is dead!"
+
+Then, as an exclamation escaped Ananda's lips, she placed her hand over
+his mouth.
+
+"Ah! hush!" she whispered.  "They do not know that I have come to you.
+If they find me here they will beat me again!"
+
+"Beat you!  My pearl!  Who has dared to lay a finger upon my wife?" he
+whispered fiercely, drawing her still closer.
+
+"Our uncle's wife.  Of late she has taken much upon herself.  She has
+tried continually to push me from my place, saying that her husband
+would be the big master of the house when your father died.  Then she
+will be mistress, and as such it was only fitting that she should come
+next to your mother instead of me."
+
+"But why should she strike you?"
+
+"Ah! husband!--the child!  They say that it was through my neglect and
+carelessness that the boy came under the influence of the evil eye; it
+was but right therefore that I should be punished."
+
+The bereaved mother poured the story of little Royan's illness and
+death into her husband's ears.  Together the parents wept, stifling
+their grief lest the sound of a sob or a sigh should betray them.
+Little, indeed, had Ananda suspected that as he listened indifferently
+to the wailing his beloved child was passing away from them for ever.
+
+"What will life be without my child or my husband?" cried Dorama at
+last.  "I cannot bear it; I shall die!"
+
+"No, you will not.  Beloved, I am leaving my home to-night to find more
+liberty than I am given here in this cruel town.  Come with me.  Let us
+go together.  Once across the border of the State our rights will be
+respected.  We are of age, free to act as we choose, and no one can
+separate you from me or do either of us any hurt."
+
+"Husband!  I am your obedient wife!"
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+Ananda looked at his watch.  It was half-past two.
+
+"It is time we started, beloved.  Can you walk as far?" he asked
+anxiously as he made his final preparations.
+
+"I can walk the distance easily if my lord will give me time."
+
+"Then let us begin the journey at once.  We will go to the further
+corner of the compound and get over the wall.  Before the sun is up we
+shall be far enough from the town not to fear recognition."
+
+Together they crept across the enclosure, Ananda beating the grass
+softly with his stick at each step, to drive away the chance snake.
+Dorama followed closely.
+
+The wall presented no difficulty; but as Ananda dropped lightly into
+the road he startled a half-starved pariah dog returning to the town
+after its nightly prowl for food.  The dog, more in fear than anger,
+barked wildly at him.  Dorama, alarmed, hesitated to follow.  He threw
+a stone at the animal with the intention of frightening it.  As bad
+luck would have it the stone struck the dog, and though it was not much
+hurt, it shrieked after the manner of the village cur, as if it had
+been nearly killed.
+
+"Wait!" said Ananda to his wife, who had not yet joined him in the
+road.  "Sit down under the wall.  The long grass will hide you."
+
+He watched the house for a few minutes to see if a light moved or if
+there was any indication of an alarm being raised and a search.  If
+Dorama's absence were discovered an immediate hunt would be made, and
+the noise of the dog would give a hint of the direction she had taken.
+
+No sign of any movement was apparent, and Dorama, recovering her nerve,
+climbed the wall and joined him.  They set off at a steady pace.  There
+was no moon; but the stars gave sufficient light to help the travellers
+along the broad, well-kept road.  Dorama's little feet were bare.  They
+fell noiselessly except for the chink of her silver toe-rings.  Ananda
+wore English boots, strong and serviceable; but the warm, sub-tropical
+climate had affected the leather and made them creak.  Possibly it was
+the noise of his tread that drowned the sound of approaching footsteps.
+
+Dorama was the first to hear it.  She stopped and laid her hand on her
+husband's arm.
+
+"What is that?" she asked sharply.
+
+Before he could reply four men running barefooted came up with them
+from behind.  Three of them hurled themselves upon Ananda.  The fourth
+seized Dorama roughly by the arm.
+
+"What madness is this?" cried the voice of their uncle.  "Who gave you
+permission to take away the daughter of the house?" he demanded of
+Ananda.
+
+The only reply of the latter was to struggle violently.  He was soon
+overpowered, and between his three captors he was marched back towards
+his father's house.  Ten minutes later he found himself once more in
+the little outhouse with his empty trunks.  The door was closed upon
+him and its primitive hasp secured with a padlock.  He was without food
+and without his personal property; but his concern was not for himself,
+it was for the weeping and trembling woman who was wrested from him to
+be driven back in unmerited disgrace and perhaps imprisoned like
+himself.  There was nothing to be done but to submit, at least, for the
+present.  He was calm and self-controlled once more now that he was
+alone.  He would wait patiently for developments, relying on the love
+that he knew his parents bore him.  It was impossible to believe that
+they had any intention of doing him personal violence, though they
+might subject him to further humiliation and discomfort.
+
+It was the dog that did the mischief and put Sooba on the track of the
+fugitives.  Dorama's absence was discovered as soon as she was required
+for a ceremony in the death chamber as mother of the dead boy.  A
+search was made through the house, and some one suggested that possibly
+she had gone to the well to put an end to her sorrow for lost husband
+and child.  Another mentioned Ananda.  Could she have sought him in her
+trouble?  After their interview in the presence of the guru it was not
+unlikely.  When his room was found to be empty the belief was confirmed
+that the two were together somewhere, perhaps on the premises, perhaps
+in the forest.
+
+The shriek of the dog betrayed the fact that it had encountered a human
+being and received some hurt.  Its cry was a howl of pain and not of
+anger, as would have been the case had it met one of its own kind.  The
+sharp ears of the man who of all that numerous family did not mourn the
+dead nor the disgraced, caught the sound, and he jumped to a correct
+conclusion.  Further thought pointed to the obvious fact that the
+missing couple would not be likely to take the road leading to the
+town.  In a short time he gathered a band of willing helpers, and, as
+we have seen, the capture was made.
+
+Having disposed of the couple, Sooba called a family council.  Pantulu
+declined to be present, but Gunga attended it.  A decision was arrived
+at that she and her husband should leave the house that afternoon
+immediately after the funeral.  They were to travel by bullock coach to
+one of his silk farms some ten miles distant from Chirapore.  A small
+bungalow occupied by a relative who superintended the silk-worm culture
+would house them for a few days or until--Gunga looked at her
+brother-in-law sadly--until her husband had recovered his health.
+Other matters were discussed with general unanimity as to the course
+that should be taken as soon as Pantulu was removed.  When it was over
+Gunga sought Dorama.  The stern, unyielding woman stood in the centre
+of the room, her daughter-in-law prostrate at her feet.  The younger
+woman trembled as she listened, and when the tale was ended she was
+shaken with sobs.
+
+"Mother! mother!" she wailed.  "Is it necessary?  Must it be?"
+
+The tears stood in Gunga's eyes as she pronounced again the sentence
+passed by the guru on her son and confirmed by the common consent of
+the family.
+
+"Spare him, mother! spare him!" pleaded Dorama.
+
+"He did not spare us his parents, nor his son, whose death he has
+caused.  In a short time we shall carry his father to the arms of
+mother earth, as yesterday we carried the child.  Why should we spare
+him?"
+
+Dorama bowed her head in silence.  She dared not question the
+accusation.  Being a Hindu she was inclined to the belief that
+unconsciously his regard falling on the child as it did might have had
+an evil influence.  Nor could she be blind to the probability that
+Pantulu would die of grief before many weeks were over.
+
+"There must be punishment for you too, daughter," continued Gunga.
+
+Dorama's hands were raised over her bowed head as if to protect herself
+from a shower of blows.  The fear of immediate violence was without
+foundation.  Gunga took no pleasure in inflicting pain.  The task would
+be left to the man whose power in the house was growing more dominant
+each day that passed.
+
+The last rites for the disposal of little Royan's body were performed,
+and the party had returned to the house to watch the departure of the
+master and mistress.  The coach was ready, and the bullock bells
+jangled as the large white beasts shook the flies from their heads and
+stamped a cloven hoof, breathing out heavily through their glistening
+nostrils.
+
+Pantulu, bowed like a man of seventy, left the house by himself and
+climbed into the bullock coach without waiting for his wife.  She
+stayed behind to give the final directions to her women.  As she
+crossed the threshold to the big iron-studded door, Dorama ran forward
+and caught her arm.
+
+"Mother! mother! is it not possible to pass over the offence?  Oh!
+mother!  I cannot bear it!  I cannot bear it!"
+
+Gunga released herself with no light touch from the clinging hand and
+spoke with a roughness that hid her own emotion.
+
+"Go back to your room.  You forget yourself, daughter!  Look at the big
+master!  Is not the sight of his deep sorrow and affliction enough to
+win the consent of every member of his house?"
+
+Dorama's face sought shelter behind her trembling hands, and she began
+to cry piteously like a child.  Her mother-in-law strode on towards the
+bullock coach, her grey head covered with the saree drawn like a hood
+over her forehead till her features were almost hidden.  She did not
+keep strict purdahnasheen, but she was careful not to expose herself to
+the public gaze more than was necessary.  Sooba himself closed the door
+of the coach.
+
+"Farewell, sister," he said in a smooth voice.  "The change will do my
+brother good if anything will; but his spirit is too much broken by his
+many sorrows to give us any hope of his recovery.  It is a matter of
+time only."
+
+"We shall see," replied Gunga sharply, and not best pleased at the
+assurance with which her husband's death was mentioned.
+
+"By the time you return," continued Sooba, unruffled, "we shall have
+better news to tell you of the breaking of an obstinate will."
+
+Gunga turned from him without response.  The motherly instinct in her
+struggled to make its voice heard.  She stifled it ruthlessly.  Yet she
+looked back as the bullocks moved forward with an uneven jerk and said--
+
+"Do nothing but what the swami commanded," she said.  "It will be
+sufficient."
+
+The noise of the wheels prevented further conversation.  Sooba,
+watching the cart as it swayed in its exit through the gateway of the
+compound wall smiled unpleasantly.
+
+"It was just as well that I did not tell her all, or she might have
+refused to leave the house.  Mothers are in the way when troublesome
+sons and daughters require chastisement."
+
+He passed through the centre courtyard towards the back of the
+building.  Dorama, dejected and miserable, her eyelids swollen with
+weeping, stood listlessly near the kitchen door.  His eyes dwelt on her
+jewellery, the gold bangles on her arms, her nose and ear ornaments,
+and a pearl necklace that covered the cord on which was suspended the
+marriage token.
+
+Inside the kitchen the sharp voice of his wife was raised as she issued
+orders to the gang of women employed in cooking the evening meal.  She
+came to the door and caught sight of her husband.  There was an
+exchange of glances between the new self-constituted master and
+mistress.  It was sufficient without speech.  She called to Dorama.
+
+"Come, little sister; enough of grieving!  Go into the kitchen and see
+to the making of the green chutneys.  The girl who is pounding them is
+too stupid to flavour it to your uncle's liking.  Now that the big
+mistress is away I must take her place.  It is a favour to allow you to
+take mine."
+
+Dorama glanced at her through misty eyes.  She did not answer, but
+entered the kitchen and seated herself by the side of the girl who was
+compounding the delicacies known as green chutneys.  The work she had
+been asked to do was light, and she was glad to be employed.  Hitherto
+it had not been thought necessary that she should help with the
+preparation of meals.  The care of the child was considered sufficient
+occupation; but now she was without any charge it was only right that
+she should take her share in the household duties.  She had no
+objection to the labour involved; but she could not help feeling the
+humiliation of the position assigned her.  As wife of the son and heir
+she ranked next to the mistress.  It was she who should be at the head
+of the household giving orders.  It was she who should light the lamp
+at evening and call together the family at daybreak for the morning
+hymn and pujah.  Before Ananda returned, and while the child lived, she
+had looked forward confidently to the time when she should succeed to
+these recognised duties of the mistress of the zenana.  Now the bitter
+truth was thrust upon her; with her husband outcasted and her son dead
+they could never be hers.  Silently she took up the work assigned to
+her, tears dropping occasionally from her sad eyes.
+
+The women in the kitchen glanced at her with a sympathy they dared not
+express.  There was not one among them who would not have preferred to
+see Dorama in her aunt's place.  In view of what the near future
+probably held they deemed it wiser to keep their thoughts to themselves
+and to obey orders without a murmur.
+
+At the evening meal Dorama was made to feel again her subordinate
+position both in serving the men and in being served herself.  But it
+came to an end at last.  When it was finished the green leaf platters
+were thrown out on the refuse heap; the brass pots and dishes were
+rinsed and turned upside down to drain, and the kitchen fires were
+allowed to sink into grey ash.  Many of the women, tired out with a
+night of preparation for the funeral, lay down on their mats, and
+drawing a sheet over their heads, were soon fast asleep.  Two or three
+continued to move about the house, not having completed their duties.
+One by one they too retired, and only Dorama remained awake.  As soon
+as she was assured that her companions were safely asleep she rose and
+opened the door.  Placing it ajar, she seated herself close to it, so
+that she had a view of the central court through the narrow opening.
+Her heart beat like a sledge-hammer.  It seemed to her that it must be
+heard throughout the house.  An hour passed, and still she continued to
+watch and wait with wakeful eye and alert ear.
+
+Between ten and eleven she caught sight of the dark forms of men
+passing silently through the courtyard towards the back verandah.  They
+entered the garden, and turning through the gate in the garden wall,
+went towards the room occupied by Ananda.
+
+Before daring to follow she waited for sign of further movement in the
+men's quarters.  There might be others who out of curiosity, if nothing
+else, would join their superiors uninvited.  All was silent, and she
+concluded that they who intended to visit her husband that night had
+gone to his room.
+
+Gathering her saree closely round her she crept out into the courtyard,
+taking care to close the door of the sleeping-room after her.
+Listening and moving with the utmost caution, she went through the
+garden door and out into the compound.  The stars were bright, and by
+their light she could distinguish the footpath leading direct to the
+little yard where the green gourd flourished.
+
+She hesitated to venture along the track by which the men might return
+at any minute.  Her courage failing her she followed the wall till she
+reached the first corner.  Here she stopped and listened.  Feeling her
+way, she went on till she arrived at a spot outside the yard which she
+calculated was close to the open door of Ananda's room.  The fear of
+snakes was conquered in her intense anxiety to learn what was
+happening, and she crouched low down in the long grass till she was
+hidden from sight.
+
+The position she had chosen was the best for the purpose of overhearing
+all that passed in Ananda's room.  Only twenty-four hours before, she
+had entered it with confidence, and sought for consolation in her
+distress at the loss of her child.  His love and his pity were poured
+out upon her.  His kisses were still warm upon her lips.  She seemed to
+hear the words of joy and love that he breathed in her ear as he held
+her to him.  She thrilled again when she recalled all that he had
+promised of the future that should be theirs, if she would take her
+courage in her hands and come away with him--future love, future
+happiness, future maternity, all might be secured if only she would be
+brave.  In British territory his rights would be recognised--how
+hopefully he spoke!--he could earn enough to keep them both.  She would
+be a happy wife, her own mistress, with no aunt to bully and tyrannise;
+and if the good God willed it, she would also be a happy mother again.
+As he pleaded she forgot his broken caste, his disgrace, his
+excommunication.  A new and great love blossomed out of the old,
+bestowing upon her both courage and faith.  She would go with him--oh,
+so gladly! she whispered.  What had she to live for now but her lord,
+her husband!  The grip of his arms told her how he appreciated her
+devotion.
+
+Then came the sudden ending to their dreams.  That golden future which
+was to begin then and there was shattered; and punishment, dread bodily
+punishment, was to be meted out to the one human being left for her to
+love.
+
+Her train of thought was disturbed by voices.  Her uncle's dominated
+the rest.  It was loud and overbearing, and it seemed to increase in
+acrimony as he talked.  Ananda's replies were given temperately yet
+firmly.  Apparently angry tones and open insults had no power to raise
+fear or wrath.  He presented a firm front, growing, if anything, calmer
+as the other became more excited.  The older man would have found his
+task easier if his nephew had lost his temper, and become abusive and
+violent.
+
+Again and again Sooba demanded recantation.  Each demand was met with a
+firm refusal, given patiently and without faltering.  Threats and
+blustering commands produced no effect, and so far the victory lay with
+the younger man.  That his uncle was fast losing control of himself was
+evident by his lapse now and then into a veritable scream of rage.
+
+After an outburst of this kind more virulent than any that had gone
+before, came a call to his confederates.  Four or five men who were
+waiting outside the door, entered, and Dorama could distinguish that
+some action was taking place.  She divined what it was, though she
+heard no words.  Violence was being done to her husband's person, and
+he had not met it with the calmness that had characterised his speech.
+He had fought for his liberty, and in his struggles he had knocked over
+two of his assailants and his chair.  Five strong men were too many for
+him however; and as the noise and the scuffle subsided, Dorama knew
+that he was secured and bound.
+
+Once more there was silence; it was presently broken by the hectoring
+tones of Sooba.  This time they met with no reply.  The men who had
+helped added their voices and raised an angry chorus of upbraiding and
+reproach.  It died down when their vocabulary of abuse was exhausted.
+This time the silence was so complete that Dorama could hear the
+melancholy cry of a night-bird as it passed overhead on its way to the
+forest-clad slopes of the mountain.  In the distance a jackal howled
+and led the yelping of the prowling pack of night-scavengers.
+
+Suddenly she started and shivered as a sound fell on her ear that she
+had heard before at rare intervals in her life.  It was repeated, and
+she trembled from head to foot, burying her face in her hands.
+
+The Hindus, rich and poor, much as they love litigation over
+boundaries, irrigation rights and the division of property, rarely
+bring family quarrels and offences into court.  In cases of murder the
+law interferes; but where it is only assault in the privacy of the
+family, it is kept strictly private.  The victim and the aggressor
+equally shrink from the public inquiry necessitating the intrusion of
+the police.
+
+Dorama understood perfectly what was happening.  It would have been
+wise if she had returned then and there to her room.  She could do no
+good by stopping, and she ran a risk of being discovered.  But although
+she was aware of what would be discreet and wise, she was unable to
+tear herself away.  It seemed heartless to the beloved one to leave him
+in his dark hour.  She could not bring him consolation, but she could
+suffer with him.
+
+And suffer she assuredly did.  At every recurrence of the dull thud she
+shivered as though she herself had been struck.  Once a low cry escaped
+the lips of the victim, and her nails dug into her breast clawing
+unconsciously her own soft smooth flesh in her agony.
+
+Fifteen minutes passed which seemed fifteen hours.  Surely it was
+enough and more than enough to expiate his sin against the guru and
+against his family.  Now they would stop! they must stop! that horrible
+sound must cease!  But the sentence of the swami was not completed yet,
+and again her ears were assailed by that ominous thud.  He bore it very
+silently.  Had they gagged him? or was he faint, she wondered?
+
+At last a groan came from the sufferer, as though his endurance were
+failing.  It was too much for Dorama.  She felt that she must shriek
+aloud if she remained a moment longer.  She rose to her feet and,
+impelled by a mad desire to help him, she ran to the entrance of the
+yard.  How she was to accomplish her purpose she was not composed
+enough to think.
+
+The door of the room was open.  She hesitated.  Dare she enter and bid
+them stop in their cruel work?  No! no! it would only increase their
+fury, and they would visit her offence upon him.  Perhaps they would
+kill him.  In the light of the yellow oil lamp she caught sight of the
+bamboo as it was once more lifted with slow, deliberate precision.
+
+Putting her fingers in her ears she fled, never stopping until she
+reached the room in which she slept.  Prostrate upon her mat, her saree
+over her mouth to stifle her sobbing, she lay convulsed with grief.
+The women in the room slept heavily.  One of them stirred.  She lifted
+her head, drew aside the sheet that covered her, and listened.
+
+"Is that you, sister?  Poor little mother!  The child is gone, and all
+through that evil husband of yours!  May he be cursed in a thousand
+miserable births!  Lie down, child!  Think no more about him!"
+
+Dorama did not reply.  She subdued her sobs, and listened once more
+with painful alertness for the sound of returning steps through the
+inner courtyard.  They came, and as the men walked slowly back they
+talked in low voices.  It was well for Dorama's peace of mind that she
+could not hear what they said.
+
+"Will he die under it?" asked one.
+
+"Not he!" replied Sooba.  "I took care to use the stick so that it
+neither killed nor broke bones.  Although a Christian has no standing
+in a court of law in the State of Chirakul, there might be trouble with
+the English if he were done to death."
+
+"Where was he going when we caught him?"
+
+"To the missionary," replied Sooba, shortly.
+
+"No fear of his attempting to run away again just yet.  He will not be
+able to stand for a couple of days," remarked one.
+
+"Therefore I did not trouble to lock the door," said another.
+
+"He has starved since last night, and now he has been beaten.  All this
+will surely drive the devil out of him," said a third.
+
+"If not he can have plenty more of the same medicine," rejoined Sooba,
+at which they all laughed in the best of humours.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+Mrs. Hulver was in what she termed "a fine taking," as Eola could see
+with half an eye.  When they met as usual after breakfast to consult
+together on household matters the young mistress inquired what was the
+matter.
+
+"Never mind me, miss," said the housekeeper with resolution.  "I'll
+tell you all about it when we've done the cook and butler business.
+Ramachetty!"
+
+He glided forward instantly, followed by his satellite, the cook; and
+the daily routine followed.  The supplies bought that morning were
+displayed.  How Eola hated the sight of the raw meat and live fowls
+exhibited for her inspection!  The butler's accounts were rendered, and
+what was a more difficult matter, brought into accordance with her own.
+The patient servants received their dismissal; the butler happy in the
+thought that he had succeeded in over-charging his mistress exactly ten
+annas in spite of the eagle eye of the housekeeper; the cook equally
+content in having cheated the butler out of four annas; the cook boy
+pleased with himself in the purloining of an onion, a potato,
+half-a-dozen leaves of the cabbage and as much ghee as an expert finger
+could scoop out of the pot.  Even the kitchen-woman was
+self-congratulatory.  She had substituted a rotten egg for a sound one
+brought from market; adulterated the coffee during the pounding process
+with burnt rice and charred crusts of bread.
+
+"Now tell me what has happened to upset you, Mrs. Hulver," said Eola,
+with a sympathetic kindliness that was one of her charms.
+
+"It's my son, miss.  Last evening the post brought me a letter to say
+that he was ill and was coming by the early mail this morning."
+
+"And he hasn't arrived?" suggested Eola.
+
+"On the contrary, Miss, he has come right enough; but you never saw
+such an object as he is in your life.  Of course I'm his mother, and as
+William--that was my second--used to say: 'Mother's love is the same
+all over the world, whether her child is as beautiful as an angel or as
+ugly as a graven image.'"
+
+"What has happened!"
+
+"It was this way, miss.  Some of the men in the regiment who ought to
+have known better--but as William--that was my third--used to say: 'Age
+won't mend a born fool'--took advantage of my boy's youth and
+innocence.  They enticed him into the canteen and made him drink more
+than was good for him.  He doesn't lean that way, I am glad to be able
+to say with truth; and this will be a lesson to him."
+
+"You haven't told me yet what is the matter," remarked Eola.
+
+"I'm coming to it all in good time.  It appears he was quarrelsome in
+his cups.  That's the odd part about drink, miss; you never know how
+it's going to act on your temperament.  As William--that was my
+third--used to say: 'Liquor is like love, Maria, me dear; some it will
+make joyful, others sad; some will want to be friends with everybody;
+others will fight on the smallest pretence.'  So it was with young
+William; he must needs fight another man in the canteen who was just as
+far gone as himself; and properly punished he was for his pains.  The
+sergeant treated him leniently as it was his first offence; and gave
+him a few days' leave to recover.  The boy is full of sorrow and
+repentance.  He doesn't trouble about his black eye one little bit.
+What he feels is the shame of it.  As William--that was my second--used
+to say: 'Shame cuts deeper than any whip, and the pain we bring on
+ourselves is the hardest of all to bear.'  My boy is feeling the truth
+of his father's saying nicely," concluded Mrs. Hulver, with grim
+satisfaction.
+
+"What was it that provoked the quarrel?"
+
+"William was too far gone in drink to remember much; but he thinks that
+they were all talking about these sufferagette women--I'd make them
+suffer if I was the King!--and the man he fought said something very
+nasty about the sex.  I shouldn't have troubled if I'd been William.
+Just look at the harm the hussies do!  Here's William that knocked
+about and blackened over the eyes that his own father wouldn't know
+him, all through talking about them!  As if God hadn't made my boy dark
+enough in his complexion without their interference!  But as long as
+there are women to love there will be men to fight over them.  As
+William--that was my third--used to say: 'When the Almighty gave ould
+Adam his wife, he handed him the shillelagh and told him to take care
+and use it like a gentleman.  It was only after the devil interfered
+that Adam thought of turning it against the lady herself.'  It was the
+woman that started men to fight and she will keep it up to the finish,"
+concluded Mrs. Hulver, with some heat.
+
+"I am sorry you are so troubled," said Eola.
+
+"And I'm vexed that any of my trouble should be passed on to you.  I
+felt that I must tell you all about it; it wasn't right to keep it from
+you and the master.  I should have come to you last night only I didn't
+see the good of worrying you before the morning.  This morning, of
+course, it's my duty to tell you the truth and to hide nothing.  As
+William, the boy's own father, used to say: 'It's easier in the end to
+face the truth than to back a lie.'"
+
+"You have him in your room, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, miss; on the camp bed.  He has fever as well, through the cold
+water they soused his head in when he got violent.  He will be all
+right in a few days.  I have put a piece of raw beef on his eye and a
+poultice on his jaw.  He won't be able to talk for a day or two, but
+that won't matter.  As William, his father, used to say: 'Many suffer
+through too much talking, but very few through too much silence.'  I
+want you to come and look at him, miss."
+
+"Me!  Oh!  Mrs. Hulver!  I don't think I need come.  I am sure that you
+know what is best for him, and will see that it is done," said Eola,
+not at all in sympathy with the suggestion.
+
+"All the same, miss, I should feel more satisfied if you would glance
+your eye over him," said Mrs. Hulver, in her most determined manner,
+which, as Eola knew by experience, took no denial.  "It will be good
+for him to see how seriously you take it.  As William--that was my
+second--used to say: 'Get your shot in when and how you can; don't wait
+for the enemy to come and ask for it.'  It's just the same with advice
+to the young."
+
+"I am afraid I can't do any good."
+
+"Oh yes, you can, miss; and it isn't you to take a back seat where duty
+calls and you're really wanted.  Of course I know that young soldiers
+are hot-headed, and we can't give them or any one else our experience
+any more than we can give them our digestions.  Experience unbought
+teaches naught.  They've all got to have it like the measles, and it
+seasons them and makes men of them.  As William--that was my
+first--used to say: 'Man is like a curry; he needs a lot of seasoning,
+and it can't be done all in a minute.'"
+
+Eola rose very reluctantly.  Visiting sick soldiers who were suffering
+from their own indiscretions was not at all to her mind.  Mrs. Hulver's
+tongue continued to run on.  She bemoaned her boy's behaviour in one
+breath, and made excuses for him in another, with many quotations from
+the sayings of the defunct Williams.
+
+"The boy had no business to go into the canteen at all; but he's young
+and easily misled.  As William--that was my first--used to say: 'You
+can't roll a good cigar with green leaf.'"
+
+Then as Eola lagged behind, showing increasing disinclination for her
+task, she urged her more strongly.  "Come along, miss, please!  Come
+for my sake and show yourself.  It's for his good.  You need not stay
+long.  Just stand a minute near the bed and say as solemn as you can
+make it: 'William, I'm sorry to see you like this.  Let it be a
+lesson!'  Then you turn and go away quite slowly, and you say to me as
+you leave the room: 'This is very sad, Mrs. Hulver, very sad in one so
+young!' he won't forget it in a hurry you may be sure.  Dear! dear! who
+would have thought it!  As William--that was my third--used to say:
+'Reckless youth makes rueful age.'"
+
+As she talked she led the way to her little sitting-room.  The door was
+open.  At the further end was a camp cot and on it lay huddled the
+unhappy hero of the canteen row.  He still wore his scarlet uniform to
+Eola's relief.  She was dreading lest she should find him tucked up
+like a baby in bed.  The poor fellow had undoubtedly suffered from his
+indiscretion.  His head was tied up with raw beef and poultices, and
+the fever produced a shivering that necessitated the shawl muffled
+round his shoulders.
+
+"A miserable-looking creature for a mother to call son! isn't he, miss?
+As William, his father, used to say: 'Quarrels are like fire, more
+easily started than stopped; and those who get into them usually come
+out burnt.'"
+
+"Poor fellow, I hope he isn't much hurt," murmured Eola, quite
+forgetting her instructions.  She stood about three feet away from the
+bed with as much ease as if she had been inspecting a sleeping cobra.
+
+"Miss Wenaston says she is sorry to see you like this, William," said
+Mrs. Hulver promptly, and in disapproval of Eola's weakness.  "She says
+let it be a lesson to you to keep out of the way of them that want to
+hurt you.  As your father used to say: 'Don't go into action if you can
+help it; but if you have to fight, take the measure of your enemy's
+strength.'"
+
+"You mustn't worry the poor fellow, Mrs. Hulver.  Get him well first
+before you scold him," said Eola, turning away with more haste than she
+had come.
+
+"That's all very well, miss; but as William--that was my third--used to
+say: 'What's the good of trying to beat the dog after you've let him
+loose?'  Young William over there," she turned and looked towards the
+prostrate figure, raising her voice so that nothing should be lost to
+the sick man, "has got to learn his lesson; who it is that he can
+fight, and who he had best leave alone.  As William--that was my
+second--used to say: 'Men are like dogs; and until they have taken the
+measure of their own strength against the strength of others there can
+be no peace for anybody.'  It was good of the sergeant to send him off
+at once to me.  If the commanding officer had seen him in that
+condition there would have been trouble.  William told me last time he
+was here that the colonel was very stiff with all offenders, especially
+in the matter of drink.  Likely as not he has never been drunk himself
+and he doesn't know how easily a man may be overtook when once he gets
+among others in the canteen.  Commanding officers, like artillery
+drivers, differ; one is easy with his team; another will take up every
+fault; but as William--that was my third--used to say: 'A regiment is
+like a team; it doesn't have the choosing of its own C.O. any more than
+a bullock chooses its driver or its road.'"
+
+Eola made her escape at last, and when her brother came in to lunch she
+told him the story of Mrs. Hulver's trouble.  He was not much
+interested, nor had he much sympathy with the foolish young man.  He
+expressed a hope that the worthy woman would not see too much of her
+son.  His second visit had followed very closely on his first.
+
+"After all we mustn't forget that Mrs. Hulver, for all her excellent
+ways, is a Eurasian.  She possesses the family loyalty that marks the
+race, and will never turn her back on any relative while she has a
+shelter to offer, no matter what the character of the individual may
+be."
+
+"I am quite sure," responded Eola warmly, "that she will not allow us
+to be worried or out of pocket, however worried she may be herself."
+
+"All the same there is a strain of the 'soft-hearted old fool' about
+her that must not be disregarded; and she must be protected against
+herself if necessary.  If this boy turns up too often I shall have
+something to say to him.  Did you see the precious young idiot himself?"
+
+"She insisted on it."
+
+"Was he quiet?"
+
+"As quiet as a bad go of fever and a black eye could make him."
+
+"I think I'll have a look at him myself, and if he is fit for it I
+shall give him a bit of a lecture."
+
+"She hasn't spared him herself," remarked Eola.  "He is poulticed with
+beef and bread and admonished with the wise sayings of the three
+Williams continuously.  I wonder how he can take it all so quietly."
+
+"Perhaps I had better defer my lecture if that is so.  Any way I will
+go and see him.  He may as well be aware of the fact that his presence
+here is known to us both."
+
+He went to the door of Mrs. Hulver's sitting-room.  It was open and
+revealed much the same sight as had met Eola's eyes, except that Mrs.
+Hulver was in the midst of dressing the damaged eye.  She held a large
+slice of raw meat in her hand which she was carefully adjusting over
+his temple and cheek, covering his eye altogether.  She turned her head
+at the sound of the master's footstep.
+
+"Is that you, sir?  I'll come directly.  This is nearly finished.  I'm
+changing the beef on young William's eye.  Miss Wenaston told you the
+trouble I am in over this budmash of a boy?"
+
+As she talked she adjusted the wrappings and tucked the shawl round the
+patient's shoulders.  He was lying on his side.  At the sound of the
+Principal's voice he stirred uneasily.
+
+"Now, you keep quiet, William, or you'll fidget the plasters out of
+place.  You have got to be patient.  There's a time for fighting for
+soldiers, and there's a time for keeping quiet, and that time is now."
+
+She came towards Dr. Wenaston, who had stopped on the threshold and
+continued, addressing herself to him instead of her son.
+
+"As William--that was my first--used to say: 'There's a season for
+everything.  Even the bamboo must be cut when the moon is waxing or it
+will be good for nothing.'"
+
+"I am sorry this has occurred, Mrs. Hulver," said the Principal, with a
+seriousness that would have set the pulses of his pupils going, but
+which had no such effect on his housekeeper.  "The hospital would have
+been the best place for him.  He mustn't think that he can run to his
+mother at every bruise and scratch."
+
+"It would have been a case of guardroom not hospital, sir, if it hadn't
+been for the kindness of the sergeant.  As it is his first offence it
+would have been the first step towards destroying his clean sheets; and
+where would have been his chance of promotion if he didn't keep them
+clean?  The licking he has had will do him no harm.  It will teach him
+to keep off drink.  As William--that was my third--used to say: 'When
+beer goes in wisdom goes out.'  You'd like to look at him, sir.  Come
+up to the bed.  He's too ashamed to make a salute, and his head is too
+bad to allow of his sitting up."
+
+Wenaston walked into the room, and like Eola stood for a short time by
+the side of the cot.  He felt that it would be like hitting a man when
+he was down to reproach the sufferer in his present condition.
+
+"I will see him again when he is better and have a talk with him," he
+said.  "You must let me know how he gets on."
+
+"Yes, sir; a serious talking-to will do him no end of good."  She bent
+over the patient and laid her hand on his head.  "You need not shiver,
+William.  The Doctor will treat you kinder than those budmashes treated
+you in the canteen."  She turned to Wenaston again and continued: "Lor!
+sir, how easy fighting comes to men in the army.  It seems like a
+second nature to them."
+
+"It is their profession, Mrs. Hulver," said Wenaston, as he moved
+towards the door.
+
+"That's exactly what William, my third, used to say.  He was an
+Irishman and his blood was soon up.  When I complained one day about
+his being quarrelsome with a neighbour his reply was: 'Maria, me dear,'
+he always began like that--he was such a gentleman--'Maria, me dear;
+it's second nature for soldiers to fight, the same as it is for dogs to
+bark and bite.  That's what the Government keeps us for; and a soldier
+who is worthy of the name doesn't think he is earning his pay without
+it.'  I often used to look at the men loafing round barracks with
+nothing to do, and to think that in times of peace they were like
+chimneys that had no fire in them."
+
+"Quite so! quite so!" said Wenaston, making his way to the door.
+
+Mrs. Hulver followed closely with a continuous stream of remarks, from
+which he strove in vain to escape.
+
+"As soon as ever young William is fit for it I'll send him to you, sir,
+for a good dressing-down.  You must check him for his quick temper.  As
+his own father used to say: 'A hasty man never wants for woe.'  And I
+should be glad if you would point out the danger of drink and how it
+upsets the judgment.  Also you might say a word or two on the folly of
+fighting when the odds are against you.  Don't let him talk.  Fill him
+up with as much good advice as you can get in in the time that you can
+spare for him.  As William--that was my second--used to say: 'If
+counsel is good no matter who gives it.'"
+
+"All right, Mrs. Hulver; I'll do my best," said Wenaston, as he beat a
+hasty retreat towards the college buildings.  The housekeeper's tongue
+had won the day though she might not have known it, and his warning to
+her on softheartedness and the lecture to her son were still
+undelivered.  However, he promised himself that he would interview the
+man later on alone when he was less of an "object," as his mother
+expressed it, and would talk to him seriously.
+
+Mrs. Hulver stood at her door watching the Principal as he hurried
+away.  When he had disappeared she turned back into the room and went
+to the patient.  Leaning tenderly over him she placed her cool soft
+hand on his forehead, slipping it underneath the bandages.
+
+"Cheer up, William; cheer up, sonnie!" she murmured.  "God is where He
+was and He will help you through.  It's no good fretting when grieving
+is no comfort.  As William--that was my third--used to say: 'Things you
+can't avoid are best taken cheerfully.'  No, don't try to speak.
+You've got to be silent till you're well, and I'll see that you're let
+off the master's lecture."
+
+She called to the butler, who appeared immediately followed by the cook
+carrying a saucepan.
+
+"It's all ready, ma'am."
+
+He poured the chicken broth through a strainer into a cup and handed it
+to her.
+
+"That's all right, Ramachetty," she said with approval, as she leaned
+over it.  "That's the kind of stuff that will make my boy well.  You
+can go.  Shut the door after you.  I don't wish my son to catch cold.
+Tell the sweeper woman to sit outside the bathroom.  I shall want her
+later on to boil the kettle for fresh poultices."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+On the afternoon of the same day Wenaston and his sister were at tea in
+the verandah when a carriage drove up and stopped just beyond the
+portico.  Out of it stepped Sooba, Pantulu's brother.  He was unknown
+to the Principal, who took him for the parent of one of his pupils.
+Wenaston rose at once, always courteous, although at times a little
+stiff until he was certain that no favours were going to be asked.  Too
+often the visiting parent, after beating about the bush, would beg the
+Principal to promote his son in the school without due justification.
+Sometimes a bribe was offered.  It required a great deal of patience
+and self-control to deal with such people; and it was still more
+difficult to persuade them that promotion by favour did not advance the
+education of a boy but rather hindered it.
+
+"You want to see me on business?" asked Wenaston, advancing to meet his
+visitor.  "Come in; I am disengaged for ten minutes, which is all I can
+give you.  At the end of that time I have an appointment in the
+college."
+
+"I have called to ask you a favour, sir," said Sooba, in his best
+manner.
+
+"You are the parent of one of my pupils?"
+
+"I am sorry to have to admit the fact that I have no son.  It is about
+my nephew, Pantulu Iyer's son, Ananda, that I have come.  You engaged
+him as a master a short time ago.  He stayed only one day."
+
+"Ah! now I understand.  I can't take him on the staff again, if that is
+what you have come to ask."
+
+"You are right, sir; it would be a mistake.  He is unpopular in the
+town."
+
+"We have no time to lose," said Dr. Wenaston, looking at his watch.
+"Will you explain what you want me to do?"
+
+They were standing in the verandah facing each other.  Sooba shuffled
+his feet slightly.  The action said much to the Englishman and put him
+on his guard.
+
+"Last night Ananda left his father's house and we don't know where he
+is."
+
+"Is there any reason why he should not leave Chirapore if he wishes to
+do so?"
+
+"It would be without his father's consent," said Sooba, boldly making
+use of his brother's name.
+
+Wenaston was slightly puzzled.  Ananda's movements were not his affair.
+
+"What do you want me to do?" he again asked, with a touch of impatience
+this time.
+
+"I thought that perhaps you might give us some assistance in our
+search."
+
+The Englishman regarded him with surprise as he answered in quick
+decisive tones.
+
+"I am afraid I cannot do anything of the kind.  I am too busy to spare
+the time.  Besides, Ananda's movements really do not concern me or the
+college."
+
+"It was not my intention to ask you to leave your duties, sir."
+
+"Then how can I help in the search for the lost man?  He has probably
+left the town, where as you yourself say he is unpopular.  Under the
+circumstances it is the best thing that he can do.  Have you inquired
+at the station if he were among the passengers who were travelling by
+the mails last night?"
+
+"He can't have taken either of the trains, north or south, as he was
+seen in his room after their departure."
+
+"Have you any suspicion where he can have gone?" asked Wenaston, trying
+to get at what was at the back of his visitor's mind.
+
+There was a definite pause before the reply was given.
+
+"We have reason to think, sir, that Ananda is here."
+
+"Here!" repeated Wenaston, astounded and not altogether pleased. "I
+don't understand what you mean; what grounds you have for saying so.
+Have you thoroughly searched his father's house?"
+
+"We have hunted everywhere."
+
+"And why do you think he is here?"
+
+Sooba was unable to explain fully; there were too many facts that had
+to be suppressed.  One was the physical inability of the unfortunate
+man to go far afield in his crippled condition.  The college was the
+only place within possible reach where the fugitive might have found a
+refuge.  Sooba had no reliable information to go upon; he was acting on
+a suspicion arrived at by an exhaustive line of argument.  It was
+unlikely that Bopaul's people would offer an asylum; they would
+hesitate to do anything that might cause a breach between the two
+families.  Bopaul himself might befriend him--if he could see his way
+to do it without giving offence.  As for the rest of the town not a
+soul throughout would lift a finger to help an apostate to Hinduism, a
+man of broken caste who refused the restitution rites, an outlaw and
+outcaste deprived of all civil rights.
+
+"You were so kind as to allow him to come here before, sir," said Sooba
+smoothly.  "We thought that he would be sure to come to you again."
+
+"Then you are wrong," replied Wenaston brusquely.
+
+He did not like the manner of his visitor in spite of the careful
+deference put on with a little too much show, and he resented his too
+ready assumption that the college would, after all that had passed
+during the temporary mastership, offer a shelter and again receive the
+'vert.  It is due to Wenaston to say that he had no suspicion that
+Ananda had been badly treated.  Had it entered his head that there was
+any possibility of his being injured by assault, he would have appealed
+to the higher authorities of the State who would undoubtedly have
+interfered to protect him.  The verdict of outlawry was another matter.
+
+"How can I assure Pantulu Iyer that his son is not here, sir?" asked
+Sooba in humble anxiety.
+
+"You have my word for it."
+
+"As far as your knowledge goes, sir, I would not for a moment doubt it.
+I venture to suggest that he may be in hiding on the premises without
+your knowledge."
+
+The school-bell rang and Dr. Wenaston made a movement.
+
+"I must go; and as for you, search the place if you like, college
+buildings, house and compound.  I am positive that you will not find
+him.  Look everywhere while you are about it, for you don't come here a
+second time.  You can go."
+
+Wenaston'a manner jarred; it was not what Sooba had anticipated.  He
+had assured himself that the accusation of harbouring Ananda would have
+troubled the Principal; and that he would have exhibited anxiety to
+clear himself of the charge and show that it was not true.  Sooba's
+experience of the ways of Englishmen was extremely limited, and he
+found that he was mistaken.  To be treated in this contemptuous way was
+galling, and roused his spite.  If the fugitive should happen to be
+discovered on Wenaston's premises, he promised himself that he would
+make it hot for the Englishman, and create a rupture between him and
+the governing body of the college.  At the command to go there was
+nothing for it but to beat a retreat.  He directed his steps towards
+the class rooms where he intended to begin his search.
+
+"Do you really mean to allow him to go through the house?" asked Eola,
+who had listened in silence to the conversation.
+
+"Certainly; Ramachetty!"  The butler came at once at his master's call,
+so quickly that Eola smiled, in spite of her annoyance.  The gist of
+what Sooba had said had been overheard by others besides herself.  "One
+of Pantulu Iyer's people----" he checked himself to ask a question--"Do
+you know who he is?"
+
+"His brother, sir."
+
+"His brother, is he?  He believes that his nephew Ananda is hidden
+somewhere on the premises.  I have given him permission to search every
+corner of the class rooms and the house.  You are to accompany him all
+through and show him the servants' go-downs and the stables and garage."
+
+"Is he to go through your rooms as well, sir?"
+
+"Yes; and Miss Wenaston's and Mrs. Hulver's."  He returned to Eola,
+upon whose face was a most unusual frown.  "I shall have something to
+say to the Dewan about this visit."
+
+"It is outrageous; and you would be quite justified in refusing to
+allow him to enter a single room."
+
+"I don't like it any more than you do; but I think it politic to
+consent.  What he believes, he can make the boys believe.  I wish to
+avoid a recurrence of the boycotting."
+
+"I shall go out for a drive," said Eola.
+
+"The best thing you can do," replied the harassed man heartily.
+
+Wenaston returned to his class room in the nearest approach to a rage
+that was possible for a man with so even a temperament.  Sooba took
+care to avoid further encounter; and before the Principal reached his
+own lecture-room the search through that apartment had been completed.
+It offered no cover whatever with its bare table and desks.  A runaway
+rat could not have hidden itself.  As for a man or even a boy, the
+first glance round would have revealed him.
+
+The hunt through the college buildings lasted nearly an hour.  A little
+after five Sooba presented himself, at the house.  The butler was
+waiting for him; but being a pariah he was not at all to the taste of
+the searcher.  Sooba waived him aside with all the loathing and
+contempt shown to a man of no caste.  Ramachetty had received his
+directions, however, and did not budge.  He begged to inform his
+excellency, the visitor, that he dared not disobey his master's orders;
+whether his honourable excellency liked it or not he must accompany
+him.  After this there was nothing more to be said, and the searcher
+began his work, leaving the butler to follow at a respectful distance.
+
+It was with much curiosity that Sooba entered each room of the
+Englishman's private dwelling.  Never before had he been inside a
+European's house.  He peered under tables and chairs and looked behind
+curtains.  The piano puzzled him, and he was not satisfied till
+Ramachetty had removed the front and exposed the strange wired interior
+that gave shelter to nothing larger than a mouse or a scorpion.  Eola's
+rooms were also examined and drawn blank.  There remained only Mrs.
+Hulver's.
+
+"The housekeeper's rooms only are left for your honour's eye.  Is it
+your excellency's wish to see them also?" asked Ramachetty.
+
+"Decidedly; the master gave permission for me to search every corner."
+
+"The housekeeper will not like it."
+
+"Who cares what she likes or dislikes?  She is his servant and must
+obey his orders."
+
+The butler knew his position better than to smile.  He cast down his
+eyes demurely in case a twinkle of amusement should betray him.
+
+"Her son is with her.  He is a soldier inclined to violence.  Your
+honour must not be angry with this slave if the soldier fights."
+
+The inquisitive visitor hesitated.  The British soldier in the present
+day in India inherits a character that has been deeply impressed upon
+the native mind by his predecessors.  It is not a character for
+gentleness.  But the hesitation did not last long; the spirit of prying
+gained the day.
+
+"I am not afraid of a soldier.  If he is violent his colonel will have
+him punished," said Sooba, as he swaggered boldly up to the door of
+Mrs. Hulver's room.
+
+It stood open; apparently she had had notice of what she might expect,
+for he found himself confronted by the ample figure of the wrathful
+woman, who understood even better than her employers the great liberty
+that was being taken.  She glared at him with as much fire as her grey
+eyes were capable of showing, and pretended not to know who he was nor
+what he wanted.
+
+"Who are you, and what business have you got in my back verandah?" she
+asked unceremoniously, making use of the vernacular in such terms as
+she would have addressed one of the gardeners.  "I've got nothing for
+you."
+
+Sooba returned an angry glance.  He understood the insult, but had no
+means of making her smart for it.
+
+"I have come by permission of the master of the house, the honourable
+Principal of the College, to look for a relative who is lost," he
+replied, with as much dignity as he could muster to his aid.
+
+"Do you suppose I have him in my pocket?"
+
+"No, woman; but I have reason to believe that he is hiding somewhere on
+these premises, and I will not leave until I have thoroughly searched
+them."
+
+"Search away, then, and be quick about it.  See for yourself who is
+here.  I am not going to help you if you can't take my word for it."
+
+She turned her back on him and moved into the middle of the room.  As
+he did not follow immediately she called impatiently over her shoulder.
+
+"Come along!  Don't stand there all the evening.  What are you waiting
+for?"
+
+His eyes were fixed with some anxiety on the figure extended upon the
+bed and a woman close by who was preparing to make a fresh poultice.
+She held a kettle of hot water in her hand.
+
+"That's my son, William, a soldier on leave from Bangalore," remarked
+Mrs. Hulver, half turning to him again.  "His father was a soldier and
+he takes after him--short in the temper and strong in the arm.  You
+need not be afraid of him.  He's just recovering from a canteen fight
+in which he made a man bigger than himself--a regular giant--swallow
+all his front teeth; and they were his own, too."
+
+There was a ring of unconscious pride in the mother's voice as she
+exaggerated her son's exploits.
+
+"I am not afraid of the soldier, woman," replied Sooba.  "The law
+protects me from violence.  What I object to is the presence of that
+sweeper by his cot.  She is a pariah and her presence is defiling to
+one of my caste."
+
+"Oh! is it?  All the same she is my servant and she is there by my
+orders and there she will stay."
+
+The woman glanced at him with fear, and showed a disposition to abandon
+her work and retire in spite of "orders."  Mrs. Hulver detected the
+weakness.  She picked up the sweeper's broom that was lying near and
+pointed with it to the basin containing the bread.
+
+"You stay where you are till I give you leave to go.  Pour the hot
+water on to the bread.  Wring out those cloths and get them ready for
+the poultice.  As soon as I've seen this man through my rooms I'll take
+the beef off my son's eye and bandage it with wet rags."
+
+The visitor stepped gingerly into the room, sidling away from the
+untouchable, and began to look round.  Mrs. Hulver took no notice of
+him.  Her attention was devoted to her son.  She leaned over him,
+patting his pillow and touching the shawl in her solicitude for his
+comfort.
+
+"You lie quiet, William," she said in English, "and don't you mind the
+visitor.  You've got to get well in time to join your regiment at the
+end of your leave or there'll be more trouble.  You must be patient.
+As William, your father, used to say: 'Time and patience will carry a
+man through the roughest day.'"
+
+She loosened the bandages slightly and removed a large slice of raw
+beef which she contemplated with broad satisfaction as it lay on the
+palm of her hand.
+
+"That's done its work and taken down the swelling.  I wish it had taken
+out the colour as well.  We'll see what cold water will do for you
+next, with a little vinegar added."  She turned to the intruder and
+addressed him in his own tongue, although he knew English better than
+Ramachetty the butler.  "Well! why don't you get on with your hunt for
+your lost cousin?"
+
+She drifted towards the door by which he had entered, carrying the
+broom in one hand and the beef in the other.  Disgust and horror were
+written on the face of the Hindu as he eyed the two loathsome objects,
+and he slipped further away moving up the room.  Whether unconsciously
+or with deep design she had cut off his retreat completely, and there
+was no chance of retiring if he wished to keep his distance from the
+two caste-contaminating objects.
+
+"I can't have you here all day," she cried, irritably.  "Come! begin
+your search.  Go and look under that table."
+
+She flourished the broom in the direction of a table covered with a
+cloth of gaudy colours where she sat to write the menus for the
+master's dinner.  He hesitated, his zeal had evaporated; and the object
+of his domiciliary visit was almost lost sight of in the contemplation
+of the sweeper's broom and the flesh of the sacred cow.
+
+"Come! get on!" continued Mrs. Hulver, moving towards him.  "I want to
+clear the room of strangers.  It's not good for the sick man.  My son
+is not so bad but what he can get up if he chooses and turn you out.
+Go and look under his bed.  That's your next place.  Dearie me!" she
+said, lapsing into English again.  "It seems as if this coolie expected
+me to do his work!  He began with impudence, but if he doesn't take
+care he'll end with something else.  As William--that was my
+third--used to say: 'Dine on sauciness and you'll sup on sorrow.'"
+
+She took a step or two forward in the direction of her visitor.  He
+retreated, carefully gauging the distance between his own precious
+person and the various untouchable objects he had unwittingly
+approached.  The information that the hero of the canteen fight was
+able to rise from his bed if he chose and act the part of chucker-out
+was not reassuring.  He was allowed no time for reflection.
+
+"Go and look under the bed next.  Lift the blanket that hangs down,"
+she said to the sweeper.  "Let the gentleman see that we haven't got
+his grandmother hidden under my son's bed."
+
+Again she flourished the broom, this time at the woman, and she waived
+the raw beef at the seeker.
+
+"Go on!  Don't be afraid.  William won't hurt you!"
+
+She advanced, and Sooba, more perturbed than he had been for many a
+day, avoided the bed and its attendant sweeper, and backed towards the
+open door of the bedroom, the only available retreat afforded from this
+awful person.  She followed and the hunter became the hunted.  Armed
+with her terrible weapons she drove him from pillar to post, obliging
+him to carry out his inquisition to its last detail, and look into
+holes and corners with eyes that could see nothing but that
+caste-destroying broom and beef.  After chasing him round the bedroom
+she forced him to enter the bathroom, where, in his confusion, he
+knocked over the sweeper's basket; and she kept him there whilst she
+explained that the place contained cover for nothing larger than a frog.
+
+At last she let him go, and he beat an ignominious retreat, grazing his
+shins in his haste against the furniture.  He left the sitting-room at
+a run, closely followed by Mrs. Hulver; and as he passed out of the
+door the slab of raw meat that had relieved the warrior's wounds--flung
+by the hand of the outraged woman--caught him in the small of his back.
+The sweeper's broom, hurled after the beef, rattled on his naked
+calves, inadvertently exposed as, in a hurry, he gathered up his
+flowing muslin cloth.
+
+William's shoulders shook.  The sweeper woman hid her face in her cloth
+and grinned, in fearful doubt lest she was committing blasphemy in
+daring to smile at one of the twice-born.  As for Mrs. Hulver she
+dropped into her capacious cane chair and let herself go.  She rocked
+in helpless laughter, and the lounge creaked in sympathy with her
+movements.
+
+"That was a sight to make you feel better, sonnie!" she said, as soon
+as she could speak.  "The man ran like a bandicoot with its tail cut
+off!  I wish you could have sat up and looked at him, the impudent
+budmash!  He won't forget his visit to the college in a hurry, or my
+name is not Maria Hulver!  I'm glad I wasn't born to run away from a
+bit of beef like that!  He came in so proud and insolent, but he went
+away with a flea in his ear.  As William, your father, used to say:
+'There are many who go out for wool but come back shorn.'  Now we'll
+attend to this eye."
+
+She pulled herself together and rose from her chair.  The poultice made
+by the sweeper was thrown away, though it was still hot.
+
+"That was only to pass the time and keep her there, the finest bogie to
+frighten my lord with that I could have found!  I was glad to see that
+you could laugh with me, Bonnie.  It shows you're mending."
+
+She busied herself over his wounds with soft tender touch.
+
+"Poor boy!  Whichever side the victory lay you didn't get off without
+some hard treatment; but we'll soon get you well."
+
+"How good you are to me--mother!" replied the invalid gratefully.
+
+"That's right.  Don't you forget that I'm your mother.  I would like to
+get your enemy on his bended knees and make him pray for forgiveness
+for knocking you about like this--a man twice your age, too!  Shame on
+him!  But, there! as William--that was my third--said when the sergeant
+locked him up, thinking he was the worse for liquor when he wasn't:
+'Apologies make poor plaster.'  The sergeant was a bit hasty and he
+knew William's ways and leanings.  But he was wrong that time.  William
+wasn't drunk; he was dazed with the sun; and the sergeant apologised
+handsomely."
+
+That evening Wenaston once more interviewed his housekeeper.
+
+"You showed the man who called this afternoon over your rooms, I hope,
+Mrs. Hulver?"
+
+"Yes, sir; I took him all round and let him see everything; he was
+quite satisfied that the person he wanted wasn't here.  He didn't
+mention any names."
+
+"He was looking for his nephew, Ananda, the young man who has become a
+Christian.  He has disappeared, and it was thought that he might have
+taken refuge with us."
+
+"I don't know why he should do that when he has Mr. Alderbury to go
+to," remarked Mrs. Hulver indifferently.
+
+"If by any chance he should appear you must let me know at once."
+
+"Would you refuse to give him shelter?" asked Mrs. Hulver, looking at
+the Doctor with some curiosity.  As he did not reply at once she
+continued: "I should if I were you, sir, if you will excuse my speaking
+out.  There's no telling how these natives might take it if you
+befriended him in any way."
+
+"I shouldn't drive him away if he needed protection, Mrs. Hulver," said
+Wenaston.  "You must understand that as a Christian he has my warmest
+sympathy; and that as far as I am able I will do what I can for him;
+but as I pointed out to you before, I am not a free agent in this
+matter.  If he asks for assistance I will give it by sending him off at
+once to Mr. Alderbury, who is willing to help.  What I must not do is
+to give him shelter in the college buildings or in the house, much as I
+might wish.  We have tried that experiment once and it was a complete
+failure.  Therefore I ask you to come to me immediately if Mr. Ananda
+should present himself."
+
+"Very good, sir.  I don't think he is likely to turn up after the way
+those boys treated him.  I'm sure I have my hands full enough with
+young William without bothering about Mr. Ananda's troubles.  As
+William--that was my third--used to say: 'Keep your eyes on your own
+road and don't worry about the pitfalls of other people.'  You may
+depend upon me for doing the right thing and not decomposing either you
+or Miss Eola."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+Pantulu's brother returned from his domiciliary visit to the College
+filled with a deep and implacable wrath.  He buried it under a
+cheerfulness he was far from feeling.  Since the discovery in the early
+hours of the morning that Ananda had disappeared, the house had been in
+a ferment of unrest.  Again and again had the premises been searched.
+Visits were paid by various members of the family to the town and to
+the houses of acquaintances.  More than once had a call been made at
+Bopaul's and guarded questions put.  The market people who had arrived
+that morning from the country were interrogated; clerks and porters at
+the railway station examined but with no better result.  Help of some
+sort he must have had if he covered any length of distance.  A few
+hundred yards might have been possible but progress would of necessity
+have been slow and painful.
+
+Sooba was greeted on his return with a volley of questions from the men
+of the family.  To all of them he was obliged to confess that he had
+failed signally.
+
+"He is not there; of that I am positive," he repeated over and over
+again.
+
+"If he is not there, where can he be?" asked one in puzzled curiosity.
+
+"He has joined the English missionary," said another.
+
+"How could that be when he was unable to walk or even to stand?"
+inquired a third.
+
+"Some one has befriended him and he has escaped in a passing country
+cart."
+
+"Is it possible that he could have crawled to the jungle unassisted?"
+asked another.
+
+"A search in the forest with village dogs will soon settle that point."
+
+"Why not send some one to the mission house.  It will be easy to
+discover if he has arrived.  Once on British territory he need not hide
+any longer as we cannot touch him there.  He will be lost to us for
+ever, and we must give up all hope of catching him.  It will save
+trouble to know for certain if he is out of our reach."
+
+"Good!" responded Sooba, who felt that he must take refuge in action of
+some kind if only to find relief for his injured feelings.  "I will
+send a runner at once to bring news."
+
+"There is a post office peon who has a bicycle," said one of the
+listeners.  "For a consideration----"
+
+"Let him be called at once," said Sooba.  "He shall ask leave of
+absence on account of his wife's illness----"
+
+"He is not married."
+
+"His brother's, his mother's, any one will do!" replied Sooba,
+impatiently.  "I will give him twenty-five rupees if he can bring us
+the news by this time to-morrow."
+
+The post peon was sent for, and in less than an hour he departed on his
+errand.
+
+The temporary master of the house was in an unhappy frame of mind.  Yet
+he had begun well.  He rose in the morning feeling particularly
+virtuous.  Success, he felt certain, must attend his efforts at
+recalling his nephew to his senses.  All along he had urged a more
+severe treatment.  The parents had been too lenient in drawing the line
+at the infliction of bodily pain.  Even now if it had not been for the
+insult to the swami the mother would not have consented.  Since it was
+the express order of the holy man she could not do otherwise than allow
+things to take their course; but it had been considered advisable to
+keep Pantulu himself in ignorance.
+
+When Sooba had performed his domestic pujah, as became the head of the
+family, he went to Ananda's room.  The disappearance of the late
+occupant was a shock from which he had not recovered; and his visit to
+the Principal's house and the College only served to increase the
+disturbance of his mind.  It was not so much the failure of his search
+as the memory of the indignities to which he had been subjected by the
+woman who ruled the household.  Had the incidents that occurred in the
+housekeeper's room been witnessed by any member of his family or by a
+fellow caste man, they would have been magnified into serious breaches
+necessitating ceremonial purification.  This would have entailed
+expenses which, not being a rich man himself, he would fain avoid.  He
+did his best to school himself into the belief that he was mistaken;
+that in his confusion at finding himself in the presence of an angry
+woman and a sick soldier of admittedly bad temper, he imagined that he
+saw signs of the untouchable.
+
+After some hours of brooding he succeeded in persuading himself that he
+had not been within the prescribed distance of the loathsome objects.
+A little more concentration and he arrived at the comfortable
+conviction that he was altogether deceived by a too vivid imagination
+which had played him false.  His caste had never been in jeopardy for a
+single moment.
+
+The disappearance of Ananda was not so easily dealt with.  The fact
+could not be ignored.  The more he thought over it, the more he came to
+look upon the escape as an insult directed against himself.  He was the
+master of the house in his brother's absence.  It was a piece of gross
+impertinence for any member of the family to leave without permission.
+It was setting at naught his authority and treating him with contempt.
+The more he contemplated the incidents of the last twenty-four hours,
+the greater grew the conviction that there must be a reckoning with
+some one.  Properly speaking it should be Ananda himself, for he was
+the origin of all that had occurred, including the disrespect
+experienced in Dr. Wenaston's house; but his nephew's absence precluded
+any possibility of settling with him in person.
+
+Sooba thereupon turned his attention to Mrs. Hulver.  Was there any
+means of making her feel the weight of his displeasure?  He took the
+trouble to inform himself of her habits and mode of life.  She seldom
+left the house except to go to market in the morning.  As the town
+possessed no English church, Dr. Wenaston held a service for himself
+and a few English people in Chirapore, in a room fitted up as a chapel
+in the Residency.  Thither Mrs. Hulver went on Sundays in the motor.
+To attack her and offer violence in the market would simply mean police
+and imprisonment.  She was never without the faithful Ramachetty, the
+cook, and the kitchen coolie who carried the purchases.  In the motor,
+seated with Miss Wenaston, she was safe from every kind of assault.
+
+Brooding over the mystery of how Ananda escaped, who befriended him,
+and how he, Sooba, was to taste revenge, the evening meal was eaten and
+he retired to his pillow.
+
+The next morning the search was renewed, the seekers going further
+afield into the glades and woods of the mountain.  Woodcutters,
+herdsmen and cultivators were questioned; but not a sign had been found
+of the missing man.  Later in the day the cyclist returned with the
+news that the fugitive was not at the mission station.  Moreover, Mr.
+Alderbury was away on tour out of reach of the railway.  It was
+impossible that Ananda could have joined him on the road.  Even the
+peons carrying letters and supplies were no longer following him up.
+He was trusting to the villages through which he was itinerating to
+sell him milk, butter, eggs and fowls; and it was not known exactly
+where he was.
+
+If Ananda was not in hiding at the College, nor at the mission house,
+nor with the missionary himself where could he be?
+
+This was the question faced by the whole family as they drank their
+morning coffee and ate the freshly-made, unleavened rice cakes.
+
+An elderly woman, experienced in the inner workings of the caste
+families of Chirapore, breathed the word "well."  It was an
+inspiration, and the suggestion was caught up at once.  Undoubtedly it
+was the well.  The premises contained no less than three wells; one for
+the use of the house, deep and containing a never-failing supply of
+pure water; a second near the cattle shed, and a third--more of the
+nature of a pond--used only for the garden.
+
+An examination of the wells followed immediately.  Two hours later the
+household was electrified by the news that Ananda's tweed cap had been
+found in the well near the cattleshed.  The well was deep; means for
+probing its depths were not available.  One of the herdsmen was lowered
+in the leather bucket, and he discovered the cap hanging from a
+protruding root in the masonry of the wall.  He was about to enter the
+water to dive for the body when he caught sight of a snake.  In terror
+he signalled to those above to draw him up at once; and after hearing
+his tale no one could be persuaded to continue the exploration.
+
+Sooba regarded the cap with a grim satisfaction which he took care to
+conceal under an expression of consternation and regret.  If Ananda
+chose to drown himself who could help it?  It was a fitting end to a
+perverse and wicked line of conduct.  He had caused the death of his
+child; the exile of his parents with the probable death of his father;
+and now he would be the cause of further disgrace to the family in the
+introduction of a widow.
+
+He presented himself at the kitchen door where his wife, full of
+importance, was hustling the women through their appointed tasks.  She
+answered his summons at once, and inquired deferentially what it was
+that troubled the master of the house.  The busy hands ceased to pound
+and grind and stir as each person listened open-eyed to the story of
+the search and the discovery of the cap in the well by the cattle-shed.
+
+"He is undoubtedly drowned and in three or four days we shall find his
+body.  This is a terrible calamity for his widow."
+
+His glance passed beyond his wife and rested on the figure of Dorama,
+who stood transfixed with horror at the story just told.  As she met
+his eye, in which, in spite of all his self-restraint, a malicious
+triumph was revealed, she dropped to the ground covering her face with
+her hands and moaned in the bitterness of her heart.
+
+"It will be advisable for us to carry out the ceremonies as soon as
+possible.  They should be completed before my brother returns so that
+he may be saved the additional grief of seeing what can only bring
+before him more vividly all that has gone before."
+
+No need for Dorama to ask what those ceremonies were.  They did not
+concern the body of the dead man but her own person.  She shuddered as
+she crouched before the curry stone on which she was working in the
+preparation of green chutney, the task assigned to her regularly by her
+aunt.
+
+"When shall we perform them?" asked Sooba's wife, her eyes resting upon
+the beautiful gold boss that adorned Dorama's glossy hair.  "It is
+usual to wait ten days from the date of the death."
+
+"This is not a common case.  To us and to his parents Ananda has been
+as good as dead ever since he landed.  There can be no funeral rites
+even when his body is found.  He has died an outcaste, defiled and
+unpurified, and as such he must be buried--not burned--at night with
+shame and dishonour and with no ceremonies.  My brother must not return
+till we have disposed of the dead man and completed the ceremonies of
+widowhood.  They shall take place three days hence which will give us
+time to call together the friends of the family.  You will also have
+time to prepare for their entertainment.  My brother will wish it done
+well and no expense spared."
+
+"And if the body is not found by that time, what then?" asked his wife.
+
+"The rites must be performed all the same.  I, the master of the house
+in my brother's absence, give the order."
+
+He raised his voice although it was not necessary.  It penetrated to
+the very end of the kitchen and not a word was lost to the many pairs
+of listening ears.  If ears were directed towards the acting master of
+the house, eyes found another centre of attraction in the crushed
+figure by the curry-stone.  Pity struggled in their fatalistic minds,
+but in none was it strong enough to cause a stretching out of the hand
+in sympathy, nor to sound the note of consolation or comfort.  There
+was silence as Sooba walked away.  Although his head was bent and his
+features wore a sufficiently solemn expression, he was inwardly
+triumphant and full of satisfaction.  At last he had found an object on
+whom he might be revenged; on whose devoted head he might with safety
+retaliate.  As he had suffered indignity and disrespect, so now she
+should have the same measured out tenfold.  In the absence of the man
+himself it was meet that his wife should feel the weight of his
+displeasure.  The probability of Ananda being still alive was set
+aside.  As he desired so he chose to believe, and on that belief he
+intended to take action with as little delay as was possible.
+
+That afternoon Bopaul with Mayita in attendance, strolled into the
+compound with the intention of looking up Ananda.  Leaving the girl
+under the trees near the wall, where she was partially hidden from
+view--lest the sight of her should prove an offence to the family--he
+turned towards Ananda's room.  The green gourd outside in the little
+yard had produced some shapeless succulent fruit.  It continued to send
+up an abundance of loose yellow cups of flowers to the sun, and though
+there had been very little rain of late the foliage maintained its
+emerald tint.
+
+The door of the room was ajar.  Bopaul called Ananda by name as was his
+wont; but receiving no reply he entered.  The place was deserted.
+Except for the two portmanteaux it was devoid of all sign of the owner.
+Hitherto on the occasion of his visits he had seen books and writing
+material lying about; a coat thrown over a chair; cap and walking-stick
+on the table.  Nothing of the kind was visible, and he wondered what
+had happened.  Had his friend decided to go, and managed to slip away
+after all?  Yet he could not have gone far nor for long; the presence
+of his luggage testified to the fact that he intended to return.
+
+In the midst of his speculations a member of the family arrived
+sauntering in with unconcern.
+
+"You are looking for Ananda.  We saw you come in and guessed that you
+would be here."
+
+"Where is he?" asked Bopaul, in surprise.
+
+"He is dead; drowned in the well near the stable."
+
+Bopaul expressed his consternation and regret, and asked how the
+accident had occurred.  The man laughed unsympathetically, in a manner
+that grated on the feelings of the visitor.
+
+"The wonder is that it has not happened before.  It was not an
+accident.  He threw himself into the well at night when we were all
+asleep.  It was the best way out of the difficulty that he himself had
+created by turning Christian.  It will prevent further trouble and
+vexation, even though it saddles the family with a widow."
+
+"Have the funeral rites been performed?"
+
+"How can an outcaste receive the funeral rites of an orthodox Hindu?"
+the other asked contemptuously.
+
+"He has been burned, then, without them?" said Bopaul, regarding the
+man with increasing displeasure.  He did not like the tone adopted.
+"It is strange we have heard nothing of the affair."
+
+"There has been no burning and no burial for the excellent reason that
+we have not yet recovered the body from the well."
+
+"It has been seen, of course?"
+
+"His cap has been found."
+
+"Have you only his cap as evidence?"
+
+"Isn't that sufficient?  The master considers it ample, and he and his
+wife are already beginning to make preparations for the ceremony of
+breaking the bangles and shaving the widow's head."
+
+"Is that so?  Surely it is full early for the widow rites when the body
+of her husband is still missing?"
+
+"If he were a respectable Hindu, religious and obedient to the law of
+caste, it might be a trifle early; but in this case the man has been
+dead to the family ever since his return from England.  It was a cursed
+day on which his father consented to his crossing the black water.
+Alive or dead the sooner his position is recognised, and his wife
+treated accordingly, the better pleased shall we all be."
+
+"I don't believe Ananda is dead," remarked Bopaul, after a few seconds'
+consideration.  "He is not the man to commit suicide.  It is far more
+likely that he has gone away in the night and has made his escape from
+those who waited for him with no kindly intentions."
+
+"Run away or dead, it is all the same," persisted the other.  "And as
+for his wife she would have become as truculent as himself.  Did you
+hear how she tried to escape with him?  We discovered her absence on
+the night the child died and followed her.  They were brought back
+together; and as a reward for his pains Ananda was beaten by order of
+his uncle."
+
+"Beaten!  Surely his father did not give his consent to such an extreme
+course?"
+
+"The big master was not asked and he knew nothing about it.  He became
+sick after the child's funeral, and he has gone to one of his
+silk-farms ten miles away.  He knows nothing and he cares nothing.  His
+spirit is broken by the wickedness of his son, who deserves all that we
+gave him."
+
+"Possibly Ananda has joined his father," suggested Bopaul, who refused
+absolutely to believe in the theory of suicide.
+
+"Not he!  The stick fell too long and too heavily--for we all took
+turns--to leave him with strength or spirit to run away again.  After
+we had finished with him he could not stand."
+
+Bopaul turned away; he was disgusted with the openly expressed
+brutality of the speaker; and he was profoundly sorry for his friend.
+All along he had feared that something of this kind would occur.  The
+ways of caste families were familiar to him.  His own people would have
+pursued the same course had he become an apostate from Hinduism.  He
+stopped to ask another question.
+
+"You are sure that he was unable to leave the compound after----" he
+paused, unable to frame the expression.  The other understood.
+
+"Quite certain; the man was too sore to put one foot before the other,"
+he replied with a hard laugh.
+
+"How do you suppose he got to the well?"
+
+"On his hands and knees, of course."
+
+"And the widow ceremonies will take place three days hence?"
+
+"Without fail, knowing how set upon the business Sooba is."
+
+Bopaul walked back to his sister deep in thought.  The news troubled
+him.  He was helpless in the matter, and could do nothing.  He wished
+that he had brought more pressure to bear upon his friend when the
+offer came from Alderbury.  That was a golden opportunity missed that
+was not likely to occur again--always supposing that Ananda was still
+alive.  That he was dead, and by his own hand, was impossible of belief
+the longer he considered it.
+
+Mayita was still playing happily enough.  She was in the middle of an
+imaginary wedding.  A datura blossom was the bride and a wood-apple the
+bridegroom; she was playing the part of the go-between, and was
+negociating the dower.  When she saw her brother she hid the happy
+couple in the folds of her rough cloth, whispering to the bridegroom
+that his joy should not be long delayed.
+
+"Come, little one," said Bopaul.  "We must go home to our mother.  You
+will soon have a companion to play with."
+
+"I! who will have the courage to play with a widow in the face of the
+gods?" she asked sadly.
+
+"One who will be in the same sad case as yourself, child."
+
+"Another widow!  I will not play with her!  Is it not enough to have me
+in the house?  We do not want a second widow to double our ill-luck.
+Only this morning the eldest son of our cousin met me by the cowhouse,
+not knowing that my mother had sent me for some milk.  He cursed me;
+but all the same two hours later as he was running through the garden a
+thorn entered his foot and made him lame.  I thought his mother would
+have beaten me; she was so angry; she said it was all my fault.  I hid
+till you called me; I was so frightened, too frightened to eat any
+breakfast; so I am very hungry now.  No! no! brother! we want no more
+widows in our house."
+
+"She will not live with us."
+
+"Who is she?" asked Mayita, her curiosity aroused.
+
+"Ananda's widow."
+
+"Aiyoh!  Is it possible that Ananda is dead!"
+
+"Anyway his wife is a widow and the ceremonies take place three days
+hence."
+
+"Poor Dorama!  Aiyoh! poor Dorama!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+Little news was received from Pantulu Iyer and his wife.  It was
+conjectured that there was none to impart.  If he became decidedly
+worse the family at Chirapore would be duly informed; but if he only
+continued to drift gradually down the hill nothing would be said.
+Sooba and his wife, ever ready to believe as they hoped, made up their
+minds that the head of the house could not last much longer, and that
+the younger brother would soon be called upon to perform those
+ceremonies which should belong to the son, the performance of which
+established the right of the performer to be recognised as head of the
+house.  Could they have glanced at the presumably dying man they would
+have sustained a shock.
+
+Contrary to all expectation Pantulu was improving in health every day.
+He recovered his appetite as well as his strength and spirits with a
+readiness that astonished his wife.  Away from his home and surrounded
+by new interests he shook off the terrible depression caused by his
+son's conversion to Christianity.  A reaction was setting in, enabling
+him to detach his thoughts from the trouble and centre them elsewhere.
+
+The silk farm was one of his early ventures, when, as a young man, he
+had tried with considerable success to improve the culture of
+silk-worms.  The system he introduced answered so well that it was
+generally adopted throughout the silk-growing districts, with the
+result that a finer and stronger silk was produced.  Perfection,
+however, was not attained, and of late years there had been a forward
+movement in the Far East which again placed the silk of Chirakul in the
+background.  The relative in charge of the farm was an enthusiast in
+his way, and he was delighted to find that in Pantulu he had a ready
+and sympathetic listener.  He was quite sure that further improvement
+might be effected in the boiling of the cocoons and the bleaching of
+the silk.  He had made a few experiments himself and he exhibited the
+results with some pride.  Together they pored over the evil-smelling
+stuff that was one day to robe a woman's dainty form, and exhale
+nothing but the atta of rose and sandal-wood with which it should be
+scented.  It was a good strand of silk, but the tint, a dull stain,
+would only take crude strong dyes, that lost their brilliancy and
+purity through the stain.
+
+The manager of the farm had recently been to Bombay where he had met
+some silk growers from China.  Though these men were reticent and
+jealous of imparting their knowledge to foreigners, he managed to
+extract some information and to gather that more might be learned by a
+visit to China and Japan.  Since his return he had made the attempt to
+improve the silk; and though the result left much to be desired, it was
+sufficiently encouraging to show the old expert that the experiment
+should be pursued.
+
+The second day after his arrival Pantulu spent the morning over the
+caldrons; and when summoned to the midday meal he entered the little
+bungalow with a firm, brisk step that bespoke an unusual readiness for
+dinner, and a line of thought that was free from anxiety.  Gunga looked
+up from the steaming pot of rice which she was manipulating and glanced
+at her husband with surprise.  If this was the result of a return to
+work it should not be her fault if the cure was not completed.
+
+Always prompt and unusually practical for a woman of her nation, she
+made a startling proposition that very afternoon.  It was nothing less
+than the despatch of the manager to China and Japan on a tour of
+inspection, that he might examine thoroughly into the methods of
+silk-growing and preparation for the dyers' vat.  She suggested that
+Pantulu himself should manage the farm during his absence.  The
+cousin's wife and family were to remain on the estate and keep house as
+usual.  Every now and then Gunga would go over to Chirapore and see
+that all was going well.  Meanwhile Sooba and his wife would represent
+the head of the family and look after the business in the town.
+
+The proposal was received by the two men with approval.  Pantulu's eyes
+grew bright as he considered the plan; and at her question as to
+whether he felt strong enough for the work that it would involve, he
+drew himself up to his full height and assured her that it would make a
+new creature of him.  The change of air had already wrought wonders and
+she must not look upon him as an old man past all business.
+
+"My brother will be surprised when he hears the news," remarked Pantulu
+with a new pride in his rejuvenation.
+
+"This is not to be spoken of at present," said Gunga with authority.
+"I have other plans connected with it, and until they are more forward
+I wish for secrecy; for I will have no interference; none!"
+
+Her lips closed firmly, and Pantulu knew of old that when his wife was
+determined on any course of action nothing moved her from her course.
+
+"What are they, wife?" he asked, with a smile of amusement.  "May we of
+this house be told?"
+
+"If you can keep your tongues quiet.  Our cousin's wife, here, is a
+Mahratta woman who knows Bombay.  She has suggested that we should send
+our son there to act as agent for the sale of our produce.  She says
+that though he is lost to our religion, he need not be lost to the
+family business.  Many people of caste in Bombay have joined the Brahmo
+Somaj and the Arya Somaj and a few have become Christians.  With all
+these changes before their eyes the people of Bombay feel less
+bitterness towards the men who take up a new faith than those of a
+state like Chirapore; and there is no persecution.  The English
+Government protects them all."
+
+Pantulu did not reply immediately, and Gunga continued to unfold plans
+that were to include the obstinate son and a compromise.  She paused to
+take breath and he spoke.
+
+"The difficulty over the shraddah ceremonies will still remain, the
+rites by which my ancestors and I may escape the lower rebirths."
+
+Gunga looked at him and pursed up her lips as though she had by no
+means exhausted her resources.
+
+"Our cousin's wife has proposed a remedy for that."
+
+He glanced at her with questioning eyes that showed how near to his
+heart the subject and consequent anxiety lay.  Before he could frame
+the query as to ways and means she continued.
+
+"The time has not arrived yet to talk about it.  First and foremost,
+husband, you are the chief consideration.  You must get well and
+strong.  For that purpose there is nothing like work and food and
+change of air, as I have told you more than once.  Here you will have
+all that is necessary."
+
+"What shall we tell my brother?"
+
+"Leave that to me.  I will dictate a letter saying that it will be
+advisable for you to remain here, and praying him to look well after
+your interests at Chirapore.  When I go back, which I shall do before
+long, I will explain more."
+
+Pantulu was well content to leave everything in his wife's hands.  The
+new venture had taken hold of his mind, and it dominated every other
+consideration.  At the bottom of it lay money; and though his wealth
+was great already, "Gold" had a reviving effect upon the man, as the
+word "rats" had upon the sick terrier.
+
+On the day appointed for the ceremonies to take place, which were to
+brand Ananda's wife with the curse of Hindu widowhood, a large party
+assembled at Pantulu's family mansion in Chirapore.  Relatives
+accompanied by relatives arrived from all parts of the State.  Gossip
+circulated freely.  News was given and demanded; and many were the
+questions asked concerning the absent master and mistress.  Sooba was
+ready with his tale, adorned and coloured according to his imagination
+without much regard to the truth.  Gunga's letter had been received;
+and as she made no allusion to her husband's health it seemed safe to
+assume that there was no improvement.
+
+"My sister-in-law asks me to consider myself the head of the house as
+long as my brother is absent.  She says that it is best for him to
+remain where he is; it will give him a better chance of recovery," he
+said.
+
+"Then there is hope that he may get well?" asked one of the guests.
+
+"She may have hope herself; we do not entertain much.  It is more than
+likely that he is too sick to move."
+
+"How long do you think he will last?" enquired another.
+
+"A few weeks at the outside," replied Sooba.  "The news of the
+disappearance of his son will probably hasten his end."
+
+"Has it been sent yet?"
+
+"Not yet; we are waiting till this ceremony is finished.  It would be
+very bad for him if he insisted on returning for it; so we have thought
+it best to get it all over before mentioning anything."
+
+It was very gratifying to be treated as the master of the house.  Sooba
+revelled in the situation, and swaggered about among his guests as if
+he already owned his brother's wealth.  It all helped to sooth the
+wounded self-esteem; and to soften the memory of the insults he had
+received at the hands of Mrs. Hulver.
+
+The afternoon had been chosen for the ceremony; but ever since daybreak
+active preparations had been in progress.  The victim had undergone
+ceremonial ablutions; her hair had been combed and oiled and her whole
+person scented.  The long glossy strands of hair were plaited and in
+the plaits were woven white jasmine blossoms.  Gold ornaments freshly
+burnished were fastened on her head and in her ears and nostrils.
+
+A close-fitting jacket of crimson satin and a rich tawny silk saree the
+colour of wall-flowers enfolded her figure.  Round her neck hung four
+beautiful necklaces of pearl and gold and precious stones, all of which
+had adorned Gunga on her wedding day many years ago.  Ankles and wrists
+were laden, and Dorama's slender fingers were filled to the first joint
+with rings that were heirlooms.  Her forehead was rubbed with sweet
+sandalwood paste, her lips touched with rouge, and the beautiful brown
+eyes intensified in size by dark touches beneath them.  They needed no
+pungent juices to make them bright.  The unshed tears were sufficient
+to keep them moist.
+
+The assembled guests had had time to dine and afterwards to talk over
+all the news.  Many had paid a visit to the well down which they
+glanced morbidly at the root where the cap was found hanging.  By half
+past three the waiting began to grow irksome, and enquiries were made
+for the widow.  She was coming! they were told.  It had taken long to
+fasten all the jewels.  There were so many! not one worn on the wedding
+day was missing; and in addition she wore others that were purchased
+for her when her son was born.
+
+The mention of little Royan was the signal for sighs and lamentations.
+They were interrupted by the appearance of Dorama led by her aunt.
+Dressed as when she was given to her husband she stood before them, her
+eyes downcast and brimming with tears, her delicate fingers plucking
+nervously at the folds of her saree.
+
+At the sight of her the women burst into open wailing.  Some of them
+pressed forward and cracked the joints of their knuckles over her head
+as though they would still try to avert her hideous fate.  Others
+kissed her cheek and hair, her soft arms, even the gold embroidered
+edge of her saree.  Tears flowed freely; the sight of the grief of
+others opened the fountain of her own sorrow, and Dorama wept with them.
+
+It was a pathetic sight; the girl dressed in bridal array for the last
+time in her young life, and the sympathetic company bewailing her fate.
+
+A golden ray of the afternoon sun shot slanting downwards into the
+courtyard and caught the gleaming jewellery, reddening the rich tint of
+her silk garment, and warming the lights in the precious metal.  Here a
+crimson ruby sent out a shaft of fire; there a green emerald and blue
+sapphire set in gold completed the rainbow colours.
+
+The company revelled in the luxury of grief and prolonged the
+leave-taking, repeating over and over again their sorrow and regret
+that the gods had dealt thus hardly with her.  Then as the sun drew
+down towards the west, she was led by her uncle and aunt through the
+little yard and into Ananda's room.  The company followed, and the
+space was quickly filled with the throng of sightseers still wailing
+and weeping without restraint.  The green foliage of the gourd was
+trodden down; its fruit and yellow blossoms were crushed under careless
+feet as the crowd pressed forward to see the degrading rites that were
+to be carried out by the two relatives who had constituted themselves
+master and mistress of the ceremonies.
+
+First the jewels were removed.  One by one they were unclasped and
+handed to members of the family to be held in safe keeping till they
+could be restored to the jewel chest.  Every woman rich or poor wears a
+few dark bangles of glass.  Among the golden circlets on her arms
+Dorama had three or four such rings on each wrist.  With every movement
+the bangles clinked musically as they fell against the gold bracelets.
+Armed with a stone her aunt seized her by the hand and struck the
+brittle glass sharply.  At the sound of the blows the wail of grief was
+again raised.  This was the first act in the tragedy.
+
+Denuded of all her adornments she was next disrobed.  The coloured
+jacket was removed; the silk saree unwound from her limbs.  A coarse
+rough cloth of unbleached cotton was produced and twisted round her
+figure.  Widowhood permitted but one garment; nevermore would she be
+allowed to wear jacket or petticoat or any soft material that might
+protect her sensitive skin from the rough web of the cotton saree.
+This was the second act.
+
+The third, by far the worst part of the ordeal, was still to come.  Her
+abundant hair was unplaited slowly and the sweet jasmine blossoms that
+had been woven into it dropped upon the ground at her feet, where they
+lay all unheeded, contaminated and cursed by the touch of the widow.
+Again the women crowded closely, some of them lifting the tresses to
+their lips, with lamentations that one so young and beautiful should
+meet with such misfortune.
+
+In the light of the sunset glow the scissors shone as the hand of the
+barber woman was raised to perform her share of the ceremony.  The hair
+that reached far below Dorama's waist was gathered in none too gentle a
+grip and severed close against the head.  Not content with this, custom
+demanded the use of the razor.  As the sunlight faded behind the purple
+mountain, Dorama's head was disfigured beyond recognition.  A fresh cry
+of grief rose from the assembled crowd, as they stared with growing
+repulsion at the sight.  The only dry eyes were those of the temporary
+master of the house and his wife.
+
+One more ceremony remained to be performed.  This was the severing of
+the marriage cord on which the badge corresponding with the European
+woman's wedding ring hung, Dorama felt the cord press against the back
+of her neck as her aunt drew it tight the better to divide it.  As it
+parted the tension relaxed and the gold badge dropped into the hand
+extended by her uncle to receive it.
+
+With a despairing cry Dorama fell upon her knees, and leaning forward
+touched the ground with her forehead as if in resignation to the will
+of the gods.  Round her lay the scattered jasmine blossoms that had
+dropped from her hair.  In their death they exhaled their sweetness on
+the evening air.  They were no longer the adornment of the bride but
+the offering to one who was to suffer a living death.  Nevermore would
+the sight of the wax-white flowers remind her of a happy expectant
+bridegroom.  Thenceforth they would speak only of death and misery.
+
+It is strange how the Hindu who is extravagant in his grief, piles up
+pain and sorrow for poor suffering humanity.  As if the gods had not
+brought sufficient wretchedness on the unhappy wife by the loss of her
+husband, he devises in his inhuman ingenuity this barbarous method of
+enhancing the sorrow that is already almost too great for endurance.
+When the girl is dressed up for the last time and appears before the
+assembly she is greeted with profound pity.  As the ceremonies proceed
+that pity gradually emerges into loathing and contempt.  The woman
+herself with all her sweetness and gentleness is forgotten, and her
+widowhood only is remembered.  She enters upon an existence that is
+absolutely without a relieving ray of hope.  She is often the drudge of
+the house; she has no rights moral or otherwise; and she is at the
+mercy of the most tyrannical woman of the household and the most
+licentious man.  Her only chance of escape is in death; but even death
+has no promise of greater happiness.  Her rebirth on earth will,
+according to her faith, only plunge her in deeper misery and
+degradation.
+
+How such an appalling custom can have arisen out of the past ages it is
+difficult to say; and it is still more puzzling to understand why it is
+maintained among a people who are neither savage nor uncivilized.  No
+other nation has anything to offer that is its equivalent in refined
+and far-reaching cruelty.  Never a day passes but the rites are
+performed somewhere throughout the length and breadth of India.  Never
+a night goes by that does not see some stricken girl or woman
+grovelling on the floor of her chamber in abject misery alone and
+uncomforted.  Too often the misery is ended by a catastrophe, a rush
+towards the well; a plunge and then stillness.
+
+And what then?  Does any one care?  Not in the least.  Even the mother
+of the girl sheds no tear and makes no lamentation.  The house is
+relieved of the presence of the ill-starred widow, a certain source of
+misfortune, and her removal is a blessing for which the gods are
+thanked.
+
+One by one the company drifted away, some to depart at once for their
+homes, others to indulge in fragments of gossip in the back verandah.
+The place was empty at last of all save the prostrate figure lying
+among the jasmine blossoms in the room where, only a few nights ago,
+she had crept into the arms of a loving husband.  The gourd was crushed
+and trampled to death in the yard; the glory of its green leaves and
+yellow cups was as ruthlessly destroyed as her own crown of womanhood.
+
+A cicala in the grass outside began his evening note of challenge.  It
+was answered by the metallic defiance of a rival.  A pair of little
+flycatchers slipped into their roosting place in the oleander bush at
+the entrance, with complaining chirrups at having been kept up so late
+by the invasion of the yard.  A pale, yellow moth fluttered like a
+ghost over the jasmine flowers, puzzled at its inability to draw honey
+from what had been done to death.  The hum of the town, busy with its
+evening trading, came faintly through the stillness of the air and died
+down again; and the peace of approaching night dropped softly on the
+earth.
+
+Not one of that numerous family gave a second thought to the stricken
+woman whom they had left.  Not a soul returned to offer consolation.
+Their actions faithfully indicated their minds.  No one cared what
+became of the widow; no one heeded her steps.  Under her ban she was
+free to come and go as she chose.  From thenceforth she need have no
+fear of lock and key; unless it might be for the purpose of keeping her
+out of sight of her more fortunate fellows.
+
+In earlier days Dorama had wondered how Mayita had been able to bear
+the fate that had overtaken her.  She recalled the fact that she had
+herself shrunk from the baldheaded child, and avoided a meeting without
+any attempt at disguising her action.  And now she was in exactly the
+same case herself! ah! she could not bear it.  It was intolerable; a
+moan broke from her lips as the reality of the present separated itself
+from the shadows of the past.  She writhed in rebellion against her
+fate, and as she did so she felt the iron of the inevitable enter her
+soul.
+
+It was unbearable.  She could not face it!  Cost what it might she must
+escape!
+
+There was but one way.  She knew it, as she had heard it spoken of when
+other women suffered the same fate.  Yes: they were right.  Death was
+preferable to life under such conditions.  Her beloved husband had
+sought for death in the well.  If she ran quickly, and hurled herself
+over the low wall before she had time to look into the black cold
+depths, she could find courage enough to carry out the design without
+faltering.  It would be best too for the house, and relieve it of the
+disastrous presence of a widow.  Royan was gone; Ananda was gone; it
+was only fitting that she should go too.
+
+She rose to her feet determined to act at once before her courage
+failed her.  She turned and staggered blindly to the entrance that
+admitted the faint starlight of the night.  As her foot crossed the
+threshold she felt a pair of small arms thrown around her.
+
+"Dorama! sister, it is I!  Coomara's widow!  I have come to join my
+tears with yours!"
+
+And promptly Mayita buried her face in the coarse new saree of her
+sister-widow and gave full rein to her grief.
+
+Dorama felt like a drowning waif who had abandoned hope, and to whom
+was suddenly held out a friendly hand.  She clung passionately to
+Mayita, trembling and catching her breath in dry sobs.
+
+"Sit down, sister," said Mayita presently.  "Let us talk.  No one cares
+where the widow is, nor what she does.  Listen; I have news for you.
+This morning they put ladders down the well by the cattle shed where
+your husband's cap was found.  They searched for his body with hooks
+and nets, but they found nothing.  If he is there he lies like a stone
+at the bottom.  Some say that as he turned Christian he cannot come up.
+The devil living in the well has eaten him.  My brother laughs and says
+they are all mistaken.  He is not there."
+
+"Not there!" cried Dorama startled.  Then as the flicker of hope
+momentarily kindled died down she added: "But if not there, where can
+he be?"
+
+"He has gone to the missionary, the good Englishman, who will be a
+father to him."
+
+"Impossible!  He could not stand, far less walk, after the beating that
+they gave him; and he had no friends."
+
+"My brother assures me that he is alive and he means to make sure of it
+by secret inquiry.  Oh, Dorama! dear sister!  I am so sorry for you.
+But listen!  Beloved!--I may call you so now.  Beloved! it is so sweet
+to have a sister!  I have been so lonely since my evil fate overtook
+me.  Oh! so lonely!  With only the good Bopaul to say a kind word to
+me.  Even my mother hates the sight of me, and curses me because I
+bring bad luck to the house."
+
+There was a pause during which the two girls clung together.
+
+"Sister!" whispered Mayita striving to catch sight of the other's face
+in the dim light.  "Sister, where were you going when you fell into my
+arms?"
+
+Dorama did not reply, but suddenly she began to moan.  Mayita strove to
+comfort her, and when the agitation lessened she began again.
+
+"Sister! you were going to the well.  It must not be.  You must live
+lest by any chance your husband comes to life again.  It will be hard,
+oh, very hard sometimes, almost more than one can bear.  But for his
+sake it must be borne; for, if he ever does come back, it will
+assuredly send him to the well if he finds that you are dead.  Promise
+me, sister; promise me that you will not go to the well."
+
+"I promise, little one!" replied Dorama brokenly.
+
+"That's right!  Now it is time for me to go back."
+
+"Alone, little sister?"
+
+"My brother waits for me by the gateway.  He is so good! oh, so good to
+the poor widow.  May the blessing of all the gods I have offended rest
+for ever on his dear head."
+
+Dorama watched her white figure till it was lost in the darkness of the
+night.  Then she turned her face towards the garden entrance and passed
+unnoticed into the house.  They who happened to be near the path she
+took in crossing the courtyard, stepped aside so as to place themselves
+well out of reach of possible contact with her shadow.  Others seeing
+her coming turned back into the room they were leaving, and closed the
+door till she should have passed.
+
+When the evening meal was served out, knowing too well what was
+expected of her, she remained outside the family circle until all had
+finished, including the youngest and most insignificant child of the
+establishment.  Then and then only did she--who among the women had
+been formerly helped immediately after the big mistress and before her
+aunt--received her portion.  It was ample and sufficing; but it was
+eaten in bitter humiliation and anguish of heart, as she realised the
+dreadful fact that this was only the beginning of a lifelong existence
+from which there could be no escape.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+A week passed during which Pantulu's family settled back into the
+ordinary routine.  Sooba was gratified by the performance of the
+widowing ceremonies; he felt to a certain degree revenged upon his
+unfortunate nephew.  The adulation received from the visitors did
+something to restore his wounded vanity; but the disrespect shown by
+Dr. Wenaston's housekeeper was not yet atoned for; and his
+vindictiveness in that direction continued to smoulder.
+
+A second letter arrived from Gunga asking for news of Ananda.  It
+contained a message that amounted to a parental order.  Gunga desired
+her son to come to her at once.  She suggested that by this time the
+popular feeling against him in the town would have subsided; and it
+would be quite safe for him to travel in the bullock coach which had
+taken her and her husband to their new home.  She went into further
+detail about the proposed journey, and asked that some personal
+property should be forwarded by the conveyance that brought her son.
+Sooba read the letter aloud to his wife in his perplexity.
+
+"It means that my brother is worse and he wants to make one more appeal
+to his son," he commented.
+
+"You will have to tell him that Ananda is dead."
+
+"I shall do nothing of the kind--at present.  It is strange that the
+well refuses to give up the body."
+
+"Not at all, husband.  The gods have permitted the demon of the well to
+do its worst.  Perhaps one day his bones may be brought to light; but
+we shall never see his body again."
+
+"As far as we are all concerned it would be a good thing if he were
+never seen again.  It would solve the difficulty of funeral
+ceremonies," remarked Sooba complacently.
+
+"Does our sister say nothing about Dorama?"
+
+"Nothing at all."
+
+"If she knew she would ask for the jewels.  You have them all safe?"
+
+"Perfectly safe."
+
+"Why not replace them in the family chest?" she asked, a touch of
+anxiety in her voice.
+
+"Because I choose to keep them myself."
+
+She was silent in spite of her uneasiness.  She was aware that Sooba
+had not only taken possession of the jewels, but had also appropriated
+some of the money recently paid in by the middle-men who purchased the
+produce of Pantulu's estate.  They brought rupee notes and took Sooba's
+receipt without a suspicion of anything wrong.  Sooba himself saw no
+harm in his action.  He was a little premature; but as it would all be
+his at no distant time there was nothing dishonest about it.
+
+"What answer shall you send?"
+
+"I shall say that we gave Ananda the punishment commanded by the swami,
+taking care not to be too severe."
+
+"It was very severe all the same.  Sometimes I think that he may have
+crawled away into the jungle and died there."
+
+"Chah! woman! you babble like a fool!" retorted Sooba with irritation.
+"We are speaking now of what is to be said to our sister.  In return
+for our leniency--for not having given him the full measure prescribed
+by the holy one----"
+
+"The men said that it was more than----"
+
+"Peace, idiot!  Let me finish what I intend to say to my sister-in-law.
+In return for our kindness he has gone off, we can't say where.  He
+tried to entice away the foolish deluded Dorama and persuade her to go
+with him; but we discovered the plan just in time to stop her."
+
+His wife was not satisfied.  She had no objection to the distortion of
+the tale.  What she feared was the discovery of the truth by Gunga.
+The story of the widow ceremony must come to her ears before many more
+days were passed; and nothing would be gained by rousing her wrath
+unnecessarily.  As long as there was a breath of life in Pantulu, Gunga
+ruled absolutely; and it was in her power to turn out Sooba and his
+wife if serious offence were given.
+
+"Leave it to me," said Sooba confidently and untroubled by any qualms
+of conscience.  "Our sister is occupied in looking after her husband.
+Her own approaching widowhood will take up the rest of her thoughts.
+We need not fear that she will make inquiry or trouble about anything
+until the end comes.  Then I in the absence of Ananda will be chief
+mourner and master of the house.  It will be your voice and not our
+sister's that will hold the attention of the zenana.  The jewels may be
+worn by you; they will become you well, wife."
+
+She was not satisfied even with this rosy dream of wealth and
+authority, and she asked uneasily:
+
+"When will you tell Gunga of her son?"
+
+"In another week perhaps I may begin to break the news."
+
+The days that followed the widowing rites passed strangely for Dorama.
+She hated her new position and inwardly revolted against it.  She
+loathed her rough garment and bare head.  The cool evening wind caught
+her behind the ears and at the back of her neck--where formerly the
+heavy strands of hair formed a covering--and gave her twinges of
+neuralgia.  She shivered and drew up the saree shawl-wise over her
+head, but it slipped down having nothing to cling to.  She missed the
+daily details of her toilet.  There was no hair to comb, and scent, and
+plait with fresh blossoms; no jewels to fasten on arm and neck.  She
+was not permitted to use any of the various cosmetics treasured in the
+brass box with its many divisions that was her own special property;
+the rouge, sandal-wood paste, saffron powder, lip-salve, henna and the
+sweet atta of rose.  The only thing allowed was the use of pure water.
+The food was good, but the mode of serving deprived her of appetite.
+By the time her turn came she was so full of misery and impatience at
+her altered circumstances, that she found no pleasure in eating the
+excellent curry prepared in the kitchen.  Alone and like a guilty thing
+she bolted her meals, sometimes shedding bitter tears as she did so.
+Even the luxury of grief was denied.  If tears were seen or a sob
+heard, she was reproved.  Did she want to bring bad luck upon the
+house? she was asked.  If a basin was broken or a pot upset, angry
+glances were directed towards her.  If the woman slicing vegetables cut
+her finger, she showed it to the widow with an injured expression, as
+much as to say: Look at the effect of having a person like you in the
+house!
+
+Her services were not urgently needed in the kitchen where many hands
+made light work; and it frequently happened to her to be ordered out of
+the room.  She wandered away in listless fashion, aware that wherever
+she went her presence would be unwelcome.  Only one spot seemed free to
+her, and this was because it was deserted by all others.  The small
+room formerly occupied by her husband was always empty, and thither she
+was drawn by memory and association.
+
+At first she merely sat upon the mat and brooded, looking out of the
+open door at the forest-clad mountain with eyes that saw nothing of its
+beauty in line or colour.  On the third day she noticed that the dust
+had accumulated, and that the dead jasmin blossoms remained just where
+they had fallen.  She went out into the compound and gathered a bunch
+of twigs with which she swept out the room.  In so doing she discovered
+a glove that had belonged to her husband.  She recognised it as his
+and, picking it up, she kissed it passionately.  Once, not so very long
+ago, it had been a covering to his dear hand.  He had worn it in that
+far-off smoky city of the west, and the strange scent still clung to it.
+
+When she had finished her self-appointed task, she seated herself on
+the mat to indulge in the pleasure of gloating over her treasure; and
+to devise a secure hiding place for it in the fold of her saree.  A
+dozen times it was hidden and brought out again to be fondled and gazed
+at, to be tenderly nursed like a baby on her arm.  She was startled by
+the sound of a footfall.  Hastily thrusting her treasure into her saree
+she looked up and saw Mayita.
+
+"Ah, dear sister.  How good it is to meet again!  My brother caught
+sight of you as he walked through the compound, and he sent me to talk
+to you while he goes to the house to ask for news of your husband."
+
+"There is no news," replied Dorama sadly.
+
+"Not yet; but there will be soon," replied Mayita confidently.  The
+child entered the room and glanced round with approval.  "You have
+swept it and made it tidy.  Does any one come here?"
+
+"Not that I know of," replied Dorama, her hand slipping under the folds
+of her cloth to close secretly over the glove.
+
+"Then it is ours for the present, ours! sister!  Think how delightful!
+Widows are not allowed to possess anything, so they say!  But listen, I
+will tell you a secret now that you are my sister.  They think I have
+nothing, nothing in this big world; but I have lots of treasures.  I am
+rich.  I have silver pots and golden cups and china dishes.  Sometimes
+they are filled with oranges and mangoes, pomegranates and mangosteens.
+I have jewels and silk sarees----"
+
+"What are you talking about, child!" cried Dorama staring at her in
+astonishment.
+
+"Hush, speak low, and I will show you some diamonds.  They are the
+dower of a bride in a marriage I am making."
+
+She untied a corner of her cloth and produced some small white stones
+that she had picked up in the compound.  She chose one and lifted it
+daintily.
+
+"This magnificent stone of the first water was found at Golcondah a
+thousand years ago.  It was once in the crown of a rich Maharajah.  It
+is worth twenty lacs of rupees; and if this wedding can be
+arranged----" her brow puckered suddenly, "but things are not going
+well.  The astrologer has pronounced unfavourably on the horoscopes.
+The bride's element is water, and the bridegroom's partly air and
+partly fire.  Air and water will agree; but fire and water!--what can
+it mean unless it be misfortune?"
+
+"What will you do?" asked Dorama entering into the fanciful world of
+the other with the kindly indulgence of the older woman towards the
+younger.
+
+"I have paid a large sum to the astrologer.  He is a very clever
+man--oh, so wise--and he has gone to a big temple in the south to ask
+for the assistance of the gods.  I would do anything rather than
+disappoint the bridegroom.  He is so handsome, so fair, so big and
+strong!  The bride will die of grief if she is not permitted to marry
+him.  Already she is drooping and languishing because of the delay.
+Beloved sister, you must come to the wedding.  You shall be the
+bridegroom's mother."
+
+A generous offer that Dorama accepted with a sad smile.  There was a
+vast gulf between the two widows.  One had never tasted the reality.
+She had only been a bride in name, and she was still able to live in
+the rosy dreams of maiden fancy.  The other had drunk the cup and
+realised every thing.  To her this make-believe was but a mockery, the
+dust and ashes of a tantalising memory.
+
+"Where is the bridegroom?" asked Dorama.
+
+Mayita untied another knot in her saree and produced a wood-apple which
+she exhibited proudly.
+
+"See, isn't he well made?" she said.  "Look at his limbs.  Feel his
+smooth skin!  How tall!  how proud he is and how strong.  He will be
+the father of many sons."
+
+"Have you the bride as well?"
+
+"She has to live with her people at present.  Her home is in the datura
+bush.  She wears a saree of pure white satin and she hangs her head
+with beautiful modesty.  Sister!"  Mayita's eyes surveyed the room with
+approval.  "We will have the wedding here.  The astrologer will soon be
+back from the south, and I am sure that his visit to the temple will
+have made matters smooth.  We shall be able to decorate the place and
+lay out the feast.  I will bring my silver pots and china dishes
+to-morrow and we will hide them behind your husband's boxes.  Oh, how
+delightful it will be!  What a wedding we will have!"
+
+Mayita's eyes sparkled, and the beautiful brown tones of her skin were
+enriched as the warm blood coursed through her veins.  In spite of her
+shaven head and coarse garment, her youth and comeliness asserted
+themselves.  She babbled on about the wedding, the difficulties that
+had occurred over the dower as well as the horoscope, the number of
+guests to be invited, and other details to which Dorama listened, her
+hand over the hidden glove, her thoughts wandering back into the past
+when there was another wedding less nebulous than that of Mayita's
+devising, and she herself was the bride.  A call outside checked the
+flow of description, and Mayita rose quickly to her feet.
+
+"It is my brother.  Come to the entrance of the yard while I ask him
+for news; and listen."
+
+Bopaul in the customary manner of a caste man, stood a little way off
+waiting for his sister to join him.
+
+"What news of Ananda?" asked the child, stopping in the entrance and
+calling to him.
+
+"They have none."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"They still speak of the well; but I do not believe that he is dead.
+Come, little one, it is time we returned."
+
+Mayita kissed Dorama.
+
+"My brother is right.  Your husband lives; but for the present you are
+his widow.  To-morrow Coomara's widow will come again.  There will be
+news by that time from the astrologer, and we shall be able to begin
+the preparations for the wedding.  Sister, those big boxes must be
+pushed aside; they will be in the way.  Do you think that we could move
+them?  We will try to-morrow."
+
+Another call from Bopaul, and Mayita beat a hasty retreat.  Dorama was
+left standing at the entrance.  The sun had disappeared in a heavy bank
+of cloud that later would be streaked with electricity.  Rain was
+wanted; there had been none for the last few days.  Her eye rested on
+the gourd that had been trampled by the inquisitive crowd.  She went to
+it.
+
+"Poor plant!  They killed you I am afraid; but no, you are not dead!
+Here are some buds coming and fresh leaves!"
+
+She stooped over the vine and plucked away the bruised foliage leaving
+the stalks almost as bare as her own poor head.  Unlovely though the
+rough stems were they were full of virility; and the rain and sun would
+mend what was marred and reclothe the plant with verdure.  She
+straightened out a few twisted stems and lifted some leaves that had
+been trodden down but escaped total destruction.  It was a curious
+sight; the crushed tending the crushed.
+
+Then she entered the room again and thought of the child.  Why should
+she not have the small pleasure of playing her little game on the
+morrow.  She looked at the two portmanteaux and considered how they
+could be moved out of the way.  They were her husband's and must be
+cared for, as they contained his clothes and books.  Of course they
+were heavy and beyond her power to move.
+
+She gripped the handle of one and putting all her strength into the
+effort attempted to lift it.  To her astonishment it yielded with such
+ease that she nearly fell over backwards.  A cry escaped her lips as
+she dropped it.  It was empty.  She tested the weight of the other with
+the same result.  That too was empty, if she might judge by its
+lightness.
+
+The knowledge came as a shock; it was a revelation, and threw a fresh
+and unexpected light on her husband's disappearance.  If he had thrown
+himself down the well it was hardly likely that he would have taken all
+his clothes and books with him.  They would still be here.  Where they
+had gone he must have followed.  But stay! had some thief stolen the
+contents?  If so the locks would betray him.  She examined them
+closely.  They were sound and unbroken.  No sign of the hand of a thief
+was to be seen.  The boxes were properly locked and their contents had
+been removed with the owner's consent.
+
+A great joy swept over her, lifting a dull dead weight from her heart.
+Bopaul had asserted his belief more than once that his friend still
+lived, and she had heard the assertion with very little faith.  This
+discovery altered the complexion of affairs completely and brought
+conviction.  Her husband was surely alive!  In spite of the dreadful
+bangle-breaking ceremony; in spite of the coarse clothing and shaven
+head she was not a widow.  One day he would come back to her and claim
+her for his own.  She would feel his dear arms round her again, his
+lips upon hers, his words of love would be breathed in her ears once
+more!
+
+The joy of it all deprived her of muscular strength for the time, and
+she sank down by those rough battered trunks, leaning her arms upon
+them and laying her cheek against the stained leather.  She could have
+hugged and kissed them in her gratitude for what they had revealed.
+
+Gradually her mind cleared; it seemed to have matured during the last
+few weeks and to have aged with experience.  She thought of all she had
+gone through.  First there was the bewilderment caused by his change of
+faith, which raised a barrier between him and herself, and she realised
+how intensely disappointed she was.  Then came the loss of the child
+and her sorrow.  Lastly, she had had to endure the degradation of
+widowhood which, coming as it did on the top of her loss of husband and
+child, brought her to the verge of hopeless despair.  Had it not been
+for the opportune visit of Mayita she would now be lying in the well
+where, up to the present, she had believed her husband to be.
+
+The conviction that he was alive grew upon her as she sat there in the
+darkening room.  She drew out the glove and pressed it to her lips.  To
+all intents and purposes she was still a widow, and as such she must
+remain for the present.  As she cherished the glove and hid it, so she
+must keep her discovery a secret.  She must also guard against showing
+the new hope that had sprung up; the hope that he would return, that
+sooner or later he would seek her out and bid her come.  Could he do it
+openly?  She doubted the wisdom of such a course.  She remembered how
+they had failed in their first attempt to escape.  There must be no
+failure the second time.  She must be careful and cautious and trust to
+no one.
+
+The more she contemplated the step she might be called upon to take at
+any moment, the more clearly she understood its seriousness.  The
+effect would be far-reaching and irretrievable.  To throw in her lot
+with her husband would mean that she would cut herself adrift from the
+family for ever.  She must be one with him, of his faith, and dead to
+all her relatives.
+
+Was she prepared to make the sacrifice?  Yes, a thousand times, yes!
+The old spirit that had led her remote ancestresses to the funeral pile
+to die in the flames that devoured their dead husbands' bodies, rose
+strongly within her and bound her to her living husband.  For his sake
+she would endure and bear as he had endured and borne.  She would be
+ready when his summons came; and she would go gladly, even though he
+beckoned to her from the fire of adversity, that burned as fiercely as
+the flames of the old suttee funeral pile; she would join him and cling
+to him for ever!
+
+She lifted her head with eyes that shone, not with tears but with a new
+light.  The last vestige of the child died within her; and the woman
+who walked thoughtfully back to the zenana, as the shadow of night
+settled over the landscape, was a woman of determination and strength
+of purpose.  The baptism of sorrow had lifted her on to a higher plane,
+and had fitted her for better things than a colourless life of inert
+misery.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+Alderbury had been travelling over his district.  As superintending
+missionary his presence was urgently needed in half a dozen places at
+once as a rule, not to teach his converts hymns, but to govern their
+temporal business and to guide their spiritual affairs, to encourage
+the faint-hearted and to shake the pastoral staff, metaphorically
+speaking, in the faces of those who showed signs of the old Adam.  They
+received his ministrations with admirable meekness and adored him all
+the more for his reproof or praise.  He loved his people in return, but
+that fact did not blind him to their weaknesses.
+
+He journeyed in a country cart; not a luxuriously fitted bullock coach
+such as conveyed Pantulu and his wife to their destination, but a
+veritable springless vehicle of the country with a hood of matting of
+the roughest description.  At the bottom was laid a mattress.  Between
+the driver, who sat on the same plane with his feet on the pole, and
+the mattress were piled the boxes and baskets containing the
+necessaries of life required on the itinerating picnic.  They formed a
+kind of screen between the driver and the occupant of the cart.  The
+back of the hood was curtained with a piece of calico thick enough to
+keep out the sun.  The most comfortable position for the traveller
+whether journeying by night or day was to lie down at full length with
+his head towards the driver.
+
+Alderbury usually travelled by night for various reasons.  It was
+cooler; it saved time; it was far more comfortable than sleeping at a
+village school-house, where nothing but a mat was provided.  In this
+way he arrived at his destination soon after sunrise ready to begin the
+day's work of inspection, services, surplice duties, pastoral visits
+and interviews with the native agents.
+
+It was just nine days since Ananda had disappeared.  Wenaston wrote to
+the missionary after Sooba's visit of inquiry and told him of the
+intrusion; he asked him to come on his way back and stay for a couple
+of nights or more if he could spare the time.  He thought something
+should be done in the way of inquiry after the welfare of the convert,
+even though he had definitely refused help on a former occasion.  The
+letter followed Alderbury out into the district, and found him just in
+time to allow of his carrying out Wenaston's suggestion.
+
+From long practice in constant travelling Alderbury had learned to
+sleep fairly well in the cart, in spite of its jolts and jerks and the
+strange utterances of the driver when he occasionally woke up and spoke
+to his cattle.  On the morning when he intended to arrive at Chirapore
+he roused himself before dawn; and sitting up as well as he could he
+dressed himself with more care than usual.  He knew who would be
+waiting for him in the trellised verandah with its mantle of blue
+ipomea.  In fancy he could see the tea-table laid out and the early tea
+ready, a rack of crisp toast and the boiled eggs.
+
+There had been a shower in the night, and the air was fresh and cool.
+He jumped out at the back of the cart, without stopping the slowly
+moving cattle, and strode forward with a superabundance of that
+vitality which never seemed to fail him.  The earth smelt sweet of
+growing vegetation, and the rain had laid the dust and washed the
+foliage.  Here and there the scent from clusters of newly-opened
+blossom on the roadside trees permeated the air.  On either side of the
+way spread cultivated fields and patches of garden, for the town was
+not far off, unconfined by any visible boundary.  Pomegranate bushes
+showed vivid spots of manderin scarlet where the flower promised fruit.
+All kinds of birds twittered and whistled and chirrupped in bush and
+tree.  Noisiest of all were the barbets that never ceased their
+monotonous call.
+
+Alderbury's eye lingered over every detail with an inborn joyousness
+that put him in sympathy with all living creatures.  The last mail from
+England had brought him news that might change the current of his life
+and bring him into new and wider fields.  It would mean harder work
+than ever; heavier responsibilities; greater liabilities that would
+leave him if anything poorer rather than richer; but he was ready for
+all and everything if----  Ah, that little if! there was so much behind
+it.  Prudence tried to reason and urged objections that were half true
+and unproven.  Was she sufficiently in sympathy with his work, with his
+aims?  Would she be a help?  It would be fatal if she drew away and
+separated her interests from his.  The more he doubted the more blindly
+he loved and desired; the more eager he was to know his fate.
+
+The pale rays of the sun shot up above the horizon on the east, and the
+white sheets of mist lying on the fields seemed to shiver and shrink as
+the merciless sun-god sent forth his heralds to give warning of his
+approach.  Long-legged natives wrapped in rough black blankets strode
+towards their tasks on the land, their brains still slumberous and
+their bodies still inert with sleep.  The cows and buffaloes followed
+the herdsman to the town, stopping before the doors where the milk was
+awaited for the early morning coffee.  Leisurely and without haste
+India awoke to its daily round free from the fever and fuss that marks
+the day in the west.
+
+Alderbury had the road to himself except for a municipal cart that
+passed now and then with the load gathered from the streets in the
+night.  Behind him rumbled his own conveyance which he was out-walking
+rapidly.  The cattle had done the journey well, and he was earlier than
+he dared to hope; yet for all that his walk, was quick and impetuous as
+though he were drawn towards his goal in spite of himself.
+
+He arrived at the first house on the outskirts of the town.  It was the
+one in which Pantulu's family lived.  The household was astir and a
+group of men stood in the verandah preparing to go out on their various
+errands and duties.  From the midst burst Sooba who recognised the
+missionary although the latter was not acquainted with Pantulu's
+brother.
+
+"May I have a word with you, sir," asked Sooba.
+
+"With pleasure," replied Alderbury in some surprise.  He had no
+adherents in Chirapore nor in the State, and for the moment he had
+forgotten Ananda's existence.  "What can I do for you?"
+
+"I wish to ask you a few questions about my nephew," said Sooba.
+
+"Yes; but tell me first who is your nephew?"
+
+As he spoke Alderbury looked up at the house and suddenly remembered
+the visit he had paid.
+
+"Of course, I recollect now.  This is where Ananda lives.  How is he?
+I hope he is well."
+
+Sooba glanced at the Englishman suspiciously, trying to hide his
+distrust under a forced smile.
+
+"My nephew sought your assistance some days ago, sir."
+
+"I think you are mistaken.  I offered help but he refused it.  Since
+that time I have neither seen nor heard of him, except the fact
+mentioned by Dr. Wenaston in a letter, that he had left his home and
+that you were under the impression that he had gone to the college.  It
+was extremely kind of the Principal to allow you to go through his
+private rooms.  I am not sure that I should have been so obliging."
+
+Alderbury's voice had unconsciously assumed a tone of reproof, and
+Sooba writhed inwardly under it.
+
+"Dr. Wenaston could not refuse, since a refusal would have been a tacit
+acknowledgment that he was harbouring a Christian and breaking his
+covenant with the Maharajah."
+
+"Not at all," replied Alderbury sharply.  He did not like the manner of
+the man.  "You took a great liberty.  It was sufficient for all
+purposes that he assured you Ananda was not there.  What made you think
+that your nephew had gone to him for help?"
+
+"The gardener gave me a hint that some one had arrived the night
+before," said Sooba sullenly.
+
+"The gardener!  Ah, the man owes his mistress a grudge.  The
+housekeeper caught him stealing her roses.  So that was how he took his
+revenge, and you were foolish enough to be made the instrument."
+
+"The gardener was right in saying that a visitor had arrived in the
+night.  The woman's son, a sick soldier, came in by the mail.  I saw
+him lying in her room drunk."
+
+"Where do you suppose your nephew has gone?" asked Alderbury not
+choosing to discuss Mrs. Hulver with the man.
+
+"That is what I expect you to tell me, since he has been so foolish as
+to break his caste and join a religion that is acceptable to the
+pariahs and panchamas only."
+
+"Sorry I can't oblige you; good morning," said Alderbury, checking his
+rising anger with difficulty.
+
+Sooba was left standing in the road.  His eyes followed the athletic
+form of the Englishman with no good will.  He believed Alderbury when
+he declared his ignorance of Ananda's movements, because the drowning
+theory commended itself for various reasons, and because he had already
+ascertained that his nephew was not at the mission station.  Ananda
+ought to be at the bottom of the well; every circumstance pointed to
+it.  At the same time seeing the missionary on the road he thought it
+was a good opportunity of speaking to him.  At the back of his subtle
+mind was the hope that, in a chance conversation of the kind, he might
+be able to offer him some slight about which he could brag afterwards
+to his friends.  It was not necessary that Alderbury should notice and
+resent any discourtesy; it was sufficient that it should be shown; and
+it would go towards compensating the ill-conditioned man for the
+treatment he had received from Mrs. Hulver.
+
+Alderbury knowing the Oriental suspected something of the kind, and his
+suspicion was confirmed as soon as Christianity was mentioned.  He put
+an end to the interview abruptly leaving Sooba with a sense of failure
+that did not tend to smooth matters for him.
+
+The bullocks, recognising that they were not far off their halting
+place, put on a spurt and caught up the pedestrian, who dived into the
+cart from the back and sat cross-legged on his mattress until, with
+much jangling of bells, sighing and snorting of cattle, and creaking of
+cart-wheels, he arrived under the portico of the college house.  The
+welcome he so confidently anticipated struck no note of disappointment.
+
+Three hours later breakfast was over and Wenaston had departed to take
+up his duties in the college.  Eola was interviewing Mrs. Hulver and
+settling the housekeeping programme for the day.  She was inclined to
+be absent-minded, her thoughts wandering to such an extent that she was
+guilty of ordering two joints instead of one.  Mrs. Hulver regarded
+this lapse of memory with suspicion and recalled her young mistress to
+the subject somewhat sharply.
+
+"Mr. Alderbury has a dainty appetite more suitable to a bishop than a
+missionary.  He doesn't want two joints," she remarked.
+
+"Dear me! did I order two?" asked Eola in some confusion.
+
+"Yes, miss; you asked for a boiled hump of beef and a roast saddle of
+mutton.  The saddle you shall have to-morrow.  The hump is for to-night
+as it has been quite long enough in pickle.  That with the fish and
+entrées will more than satisfy Mr. Alderbury.  I don't hold with a
+daintiness above your station.  As William--that was my second--used to
+say: 'A private can't expect captain's grub, and a captain mustn't look
+for general's fare, else there'll be proud stomachs.'"
+
+"Have you ever seen a bishop?" asked Eola, feeling vaguely that she
+must throw off suspicion and show an interest in Mrs. Hulver's
+conversation.
+
+"Yes, miss, of course I have!  Wasn't I confirmed by one?  He was tall
+and solemn and had a thin grey beard.  He reminded me somehow--it
+wasn't his legs--of a picture in my father's big family bible of the
+goat that was sent out by the Children of Israel into the wilderness."
+
+"The scape-goat that had to bear the sins of the people," said Eola,
+her eyes wandering through the house to the front verandah where she
+could see her guest in the distance absorbed in his letters.
+
+"Yes, miss.  The bishop was just like the picture.  Hadn't he got to
+bear the sins of his people? and a very serious business it was too.
+When he confirmed me he gave me clean sheets and started me afresh; he
+took my sins on him.  I shouldn't like to be a bishop considering all
+he has to bear and wear.  The gaiters and the tights would be enough to
+put one off the job, even though the apron does lend a little decency
+to the style.  As William--that was my third--used to say: 'All are not
+saints who go to church, or bishops and padres would have an easy time
+of it.'"
+
+During this speech Eola's attention again wandered.  Mr. Alderbury was
+still busy with his letters.  As soon as he had finished reading his
+correspondence she intended joining him.
+
+"Then that's all for this morning," she said, as Mrs. Hulver came to an
+end of her dissertation on church dignitaries.
+
+"You haven't ordered the pudding, miss."
+
+She made the announcement in the same manner in which she might have
+said, "You haven't said your prayers, miss."
+
+"I'm so sorry.  What has cook brought?  Green mangoes?  Yes; they will
+do nicely stewed; and a custard pudding."
+
+"Custard pudding!" repeated Mrs. Hulver with disdain.  "It's the
+pudding Mr. Alderbury gets every other day of his life! and him with
+the tastes of a bishop!"
+
+"Then I leave it to you, Mrs. Hulver.  Now let me finish with the
+accounts."
+
+Mrs. Hulver was more vigilant than ever this morning over Ramachetty's
+charges.  Miss Wenaston was clearly not fit for the matutinal crossing
+of swords with the sharp-witted butler, and it was the housekeeper's
+duty to intervene and protect.
+
+"As William--that was my third--used to say: 'It's fatal to go into
+action unless you've got your wits about you and your guns are in good
+order,'" remarked Mrs. Hulver when she had checked the butler for the
+third time.
+
+Eola did not see the point of her remark and Mrs. Hulver made no
+attempt to explain.  The bazaar account book was closed with relief,
+and the butler and cook dismissed.
+
+"How is young William getting on?" asked Eola, preparatory to
+dismissing her housekeeper as well.
+
+"He is nearly well, though I can't get the colour of his eye down
+altogether.  What his colonel will say to him to-morrow I don't know.
+He will have to be told the truth if he asks about the black eye."
+
+"He may not make any inquiries if he finds young William"--by common
+consent the adjective had been given to distinguish the son from the
+three Williams of the former generation--"doing his work properly."
+
+"There are colonels and colonels, miss.  Some can put on the blinkers
+when they think fit.  Others shy and jib at everything that comes
+within sight.  Fortunately young William's complexion helps a bit, and
+the black eye doesn't show as it would if he were as fair as his
+father."
+
+"Then you think of sending him back to-morrow."
+
+"His leave will be up by that time."
+
+"I must tell my brother.  He said he would speak to him about the
+canteen and fighting."
+
+"It would do him good, miss; but to tell the truth I've said pretty
+nearly all there is to be said and I haven't sounded cease firing yet."
+
+"I hope the scolding has not been overdone," said Eola, a wave of pity
+for young William passing through her as she thought of the lectures
+the anxious mother had already given to her erring son.
+
+"No fear, miss.  It's my chance and I haven't spared him.  I shan't see
+young William for some time to come.  I've let him have it broadside,
+in the front and in the rear.  As William--that was my third, and he
+was a gunner--used to say, 'Don't spare powder and shot if you want to
+produce a lasting impression on the enemy.'  There's one thing I want
+to ask you, miss.  Is Mr. Alderbury going on from here by his carts or
+by train?"
+
+"By motor; the carts are to leave early to-morrow morning or to-night.
+The motor will be wanted after lunch to-morrow.  The chauffeur must
+spend the night at the mission bungalow and return the next day."
+
+"Then nothing will be needed for Mr. Alderbury's tiffin basket,"
+remarked Mrs. Hulver as though dismissing the subject since it did not
+concern her any further.
+
+Eola caught sight of her guest pacing to and fro in the verandah and
+she turned away to join him.  Mrs. Hulver followed her.
+
+"I should be glad if you could spare me to-morrow for half a day.  I
+should like to go to the station with young William and see him off.
+He will leave by an early train so as to get in in time to report
+himself before six."
+
+"By all means take as much time as you like."
+
+"Would you like to come and speak a word to young William, miss?"
+
+"No, please not; I really have nothing to say."
+
+"It would do him good if you just said as before; 'Let it be----'"
+
+Eola interrupted her hastily.
+
+"Oh, no, Mrs. Hulver; I am sure that more than enough has been said.
+Young William will be glad to get away."
+
+"Then the Doctor will come and talk to him."
+
+"Is it necessary?  Don't you think he might be let off any further
+scolding?"
+
+"Well, miss; he has yet to face the sergeant and perhaps the colonel.
+So it isn't done with yet; and he won't be out of the firing line till
+he has reported himself and had his dressing-down."
+
+"Then I am sure that he must be spared anything further from us."
+
+Mrs. Hulver's reply was to the effect that it should be as Miss
+Wenaston pleased.  Ten minutes later the housekeeper might have been
+seen, in a huge mushroom topee and with a large white umbrella,
+crossing the compound in the direction of the camping-ground chosen by
+Alderbury's driver and servant.  In the afternoon business took her to
+the town to make some purchases for young William, she explained to
+Ramachetty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+"How have you been getting on lately?" asked Eola as she sank into a
+cane lounge in the verandah.
+
+Alderbury stopped in his perambulation, gathered up a number of letters
+lying on the table where the tea was usually spread and made them into
+a neat packet.  None of them required an immediate answer; they could
+all wait until he reached home.  He intended to make the most of his
+one day's holiday.  He had the whole morning before him; Wenaston was
+engaged till lunch, and Eola presumably had nothing to do but entertain
+her guest.  It was a pleasant prospect, and he was conscious of a sense
+of luxury that did not often enter his life.  He revelled in the
+unwonted leisure of the hour and took his time to reply.  He seated
+himself in a chair by her side, and half turned so that he might have a
+full view of her face against the green creeper-covered trellis that
+shut in the end of the verandah.
+
+"I have a fair share of trouble balanced by some satisfaction."
+
+"Converts been doing anything very naughty lately?"
+
+He laughed in kindly fashion.  In his large sympathetic soul he held
+his people dear, from the blackest little ball of a baby brought to him
+for baptism to the white-haired old woman; who persisted in calling him
+father though she was twice his age.
+
+"It is rather like having a very large nursery or school of children,"
+he said.  "Some of them are so good and others----"
+
+"Are up to tricks," Eola concluded for him.
+
+"Only between us confidentially."
+
+They both laughed in a way that showed a mutual understanding and not a
+little sympathy on the part of the woman, not so much for his work as
+for himself personally.
+
+"Do tell me their latest," she said softly.
+
+"It is not for publication.  On your honour you won't give me and my
+people away to a missionary magazine?"
+
+"I promise."
+
+"Let me whisper my troubles in your ear, then.  I have had a bother
+over a bell tower.  Four months ago I sent five hundred rupees that I
+had collected for the purpose to the native pastor in charge of the
+little church at Ramapet; and I solemnly enjoined on him by letter the
+necessity of beginning the building of the tower at once.  I have been
+to see it."
+
+"You have found that they have put up a glorified steeple, I suppose,
+costing twice as much as the sum you sent."
+
+"Wrong, dear lady, entirely wrong!  The bell tower surrounds the
+property on which the church stands in the form of a wall; and in the
+corner of the compound is a new well."
+
+"What has become of the bell?"
+
+"It is there safe enough; oh, yes, and it rings all right.  The church
+council composed of the most important of the native parishioners met
+me and pointed out how wise they had been, as wise as serpents to use
+their own expression.  The church compound is already under cultivation
+and the water will not only produce a crop, I should say rather, two
+crops in the year, but will also be a source of income as it is
+purchased by the villagers at so much a bucket.  They are all delighted
+with themselves for their cleverness.  The bell-tower, they say, will
+come all in good time.  Meanwhile they have erected a little shelter of
+mats and bamboos in a peepul tree and have hung the bell there."
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"I had to disapprove and point out that it was a breach of faith and a
+misappropriation of funds."
+
+"Was the wall needed?"
+
+"Badly!  Nothing could be done with the land to make it productive
+until we had an effective barrier to keep out the buffaloes and goats."
+
+"Then really it is a most excellent move."
+
+"Not at all!  Don't you see that there are principles involved?"
+
+"They should have asked your consent, you mean, to the temporary
+deflection of the money?"
+
+"I should never have given it!  They knew it and took good care not to
+let me into the secret.  What am I to do, pray?  Where is my bell-tower
+to come from?  It will take two or three years before they can refund
+the money.  Some of it was given by an enthusiastic lover of bells, who
+was charmed with the idea of assisting to build the tower.  Bells, he
+declared, were missionaries themselves and exercised a Christianising
+influence.  What am I to say to him?  He won't see any Christianising
+influence in the well and the wall."
+
+He sat up in his long armed chair and gazed at Eola with comic concern.
+It made her laugh.
+
+"My sympathies are all with the builders of the wall.  I know how I
+felt towards the buffaloes and goats before the wall round this
+compound was completed.  After all the bell does very well for the
+present in the peepul tree."
+
+"Your morals are hopelessly inferior--I won't say bad--and you would
+make a very weak mission agent," he said, shaking his head over her
+shortcomings.
+
+"Should I?  Then I mustn't marry a missionary.  Think how awful it
+would be if while he was away preaching to the heathen, I remained at
+home encouraging his converts to misappropriate the mission funds."
+
+"He would have to take you with him; it wouldn't be safe to leave you
+behind."
+
+They both laughed; then he became serious again.
+
+"But I say, really, joking apart; you know they have put me into no end
+of a difficulty by their cleverness, and I am at my wits' end to think
+how I am to rectify it."
+
+"I know!" cried Eola, with a sudden inspiration.  "Haven't you any
+other funds in hand from which you could borrow and get the tower built
+at once?"
+
+He jumped to his feet as was his way when excited and strode up and
+down the verandah.
+
+"You are every bit as bad as my people!  That's the very thing they
+have done and which I am deprecating; and you suggest that I should
+follow their example.  I can see that I have a duty to perform.  I must
+take you in hand and convert you."
+
+He stopped in front of her and let his eyes rest upon her abundant hair.
+
+"Try," she said, looking up at him with shining eyes in which amusement
+mingled with something else.  "Do try; I should like to see what your
+method would be."
+
+"Would you?" he replied.  "You might not like it."
+
+"Is it the same as you apply to the heathen?"
+
+"Not exactly."
+
+Her eyes lowered before his, and she was seized with a sudden anxiety
+to direct the conversation into a fresh channel.
+
+"Sit down, Mr. Alderbury, and tell me more about your converts," she
+said hastily.
+
+"Very well, I will defer the conversion till a more suitable time and
+talk--of marriage."
+
+Again she was startled.  She glanced at him as he dropped into the seat
+he had vacated so abruptly.  His self-possession was in no way
+disturbed.
+
+"Marriage!" she repeated as the colour mounted.
+
+He revelled in her sweet confusion; but had mercy.
+
+"Yes; the marriage of one of my converts.  A young man in the
+agricultural settlement wants to marry the daughter of a distant
+relative.  The girl is still a heathen.  Of course I had to say no, and
+counsel patience.  We don't allow mixed marriages.  I left him rather
+sad, as he knows the girl and is attached to her.  Being pariahs they
+have been allowed to see something of each other."
+
+"Oh, poor fellow!  Is she fond of him?"
+
+"Yes; I think so; as far as a modest Hindu maid may permit herself to
+be."
+
+"Then they ought to be married; and I think it is very horrid of you to
+forbid the wedding."
+
+"The girl must become a Christian first; then the wedding bells shall
+be rung and the feast prepared; but not till then."
+
+"But supposing she won't become a Christian, what then?"
+
+"The marriage can't take place."
+
+"Poor lovers!  What a shame!  You are hard on them!  Why shouldn't the
+girl marry first and be converted afterwards?"
+
+"That would never do.  I always begin with conversion;" he looked at
+her and paused with half a smile; then he added: "Marriage must follow
+conversion."
+
+"Oh, must it!" she replied with a challenge in her voice.  "You take a
+good deal for granted."
+
+"A common fault with men of my profession, I fear," he replied with a
+decision that had its attraction.
+
+"Are you never disappointed?"
+
+There was a slight pause.  His reply was spoken in a different tone.
+
+"In the matter of bell towers, yes."
+
+Alderbury sat down again, and Eola with half averted face looked out
+into the sunlit compound where the brilliant colours of the geraniums
+and bignonia creeper contrasted strongly with the pure snow white of
+the eucharis lilies; where butterflies that rivalled the flowers in
+tint fluttered like wind-driven petals across her vision, and the sweet
+scent of the _La France_ roses came in on the warm morning air.
+
+"Now tell me about Ananda," said Alderbury recalling her thoughts.
+
+"I know very little about him.  My information has come from Mrs.
+Hulver who picks up gossip in the bazaar.  You had better hear the
+story from her first hand.  I will send for her."
+
+A message was taken by the butler who met the housekeeper as she
+returned from her walk in the compound.  She went into her room to
+remove the mushroom hat and dispose of her umbrella; and she took the
+opportunity of telling young William that she had made arrangements for
+him to leave at daybreak the following morning.  She entered the front
+verandah, keen inquiry in her eye as to the reason of her call.
+
+"Were you wishing to have a few words with my son, sir?  If so, I
+should be pleased if you could come in half an hour.  He is just going
+to have his bath.  A dressing-down from your point of view will be very
+good for him.  As William--that was my third--used to say: 'Don't
+confine yourself to big guns in dealing with an enemy.  Bullets speak
+quite as plainly as cannon balls though they are neither so big nor so
+noisy.'"
+
+"I don't think your son wants any lecturing from me.  No doubt he is
+fully repentant after all that has happened.  Dr. Wenaston told me the
+story of his fight, and I am sure young William will keep away from the
+canteen in future," said Alderbury kindly.
+
+"He will try, sir; I know that; but canteens draw very strongly at
+times.  There's the smell to contend with as well as the open door.  As
+William--that was my third--used to say: 'An open door will tempt a
+saint.'"
+
+"I want you to tell me all you know and have heard about Ananda.  Sit
+down, Mrs. Hulver," he said, giving her a chair.  "I don't see why you
+should stand.  Let us have a comfortable chat whilst we are about it."
+
+He noted the cloud of anxiety that seemed to overshadow her usually
+placid face and put it down to trouble over her son.  Her words
+confirmed his suspicion.
+
+"To tell you the truth, sir, I have had no time to consider Mr. Ananda.
+I have been so worried by young William's conduct."
+
+"You mustn't think too much about it.  You can't expect everybody to be
+a saint."
+
+"I don't, sir, and least of all young William from the way he has
+begun----"
+
+"What did you hear of Ananda in the bazaar?" asked Alderbury
+interrupting her.
+
+"As far as I can recollect the family ill-treated him, knocked him
+about with a stick and he ran away.  They didn't like his turning
+Christian.  As William--that was my third--used to say: 'What women
+haven't got to answer for, you may safely put down to religion.'"
+
+"It was supposed that he was in hiding somewhere on the college
+premises.  It seems the gardener heard of the arrival of your son and
+thought it was Ananda."
+
+"The gardener?" said Mrs. Hulver puckering her brow.  "So we may thank
+him for that budmash's visit.  I shall have to remember that."
+
+She thought of the roses and felt that the man had got even with her
+after all; but she kept her thoughts to herself.
+
+"In coming here he was taking a great liberty, I admit; but it was as
+well that he should satisfy himself that Ananda was not on the
+premises."
+
+"I should never have allowed him to go through my rooms if the master
+hadn't given him permission.  As it was I had to submit; but I didn't
+like it with young William lying there and the fever still on him.  As
+William--that was my first--used to say: 'Orders is orders when spoken
+by a superior.'"
+
+"Have you heard any spot mentioned as likely to be a hiding-place?"
+
+"There have been all sort of rumours, sir.  They said at first that he
+had gone to you; but a messenger was sent to your house to inquire; and
+as nothing had been seen of him there they changed their minds.  I
+don't wonder at his running away if they really did illtreat him.  As
+William--that was my second--used to say: 'Distance is the best remedy
+against the spite of evil men.'  You never saw such an evil-looking
+beast as that uncle was who came poking his nose into everything here.
+If young William had been himself and not so ashamed of his black eye
+he would have upped and at him and soon had him out.  I think the man
+himself was afraid that something of the sort might happen.  As
+William--that was my first--used to say when his relations came to stay
+without an invitation: 'Uninvited guests sit on thorns.'"
+
+"When they discovered that Ananda was not at my house what was the next
+suspicion of the family?"
+
+"That he had drowned himself in the well."
+
+"What gave rise to that notion?"
+
+"They found his cap in the well."
+
+"But not his body?"
+
+"No, sir; all the same his people believe that he is drowned and they
+have widowed his wife I am told.  I can't answer for the truth of what
+I hear in the bazaar.  As William--that was my first--used to say: 'An
+Indian bazaar is a nest in which many rotten eggs are laid.'"
+
+"You were very kind to Mr. Ananda, Mrs. Hulver," remarked Eola.
+
+"My kindness was of the fair weather sort.  I gave him food and plenty
+of good advice, before master put it in orders that no help of any sort
+was to be found in this house.  Mr. Ananda ate heartily and listened
+politely; but he didn't take my advice soon enough.  As William--that
+was my second--used to say: 'The man who stops in the valley will never
+get over the hill.'  I keep telling young William these sort of things.
+I hope some of them, specially about drink and fighting, will stay by
+him.  As William, his father used to say: 'The way to promotion doesn't
+lie through the canteen door.'"
+
+"If you should by chance find means of communicating with Ananda----"
+
+"And him down the well, sir!  Why, it's more than a week----"
+
+"Do you believe that he drowned himself, Mrs. Hulver?" asked Alderbury,
+his eyes fixed upon her round smooth face that held very little
+expression but general good-nature towards the whole world.
+
+"Well, sir!  There's his widow!  A widow is usually the sure sign of a
+man's death; though I have heard of the widow's weeds being put on too
+soon.  That was the case of a woman in our regiment whose husband was
+seconded for service in Africa.  He was reported killed; and just as
+she was getting over her trouble and was cheering up a bit, owing to
+one of the unmarried sergeants paying her a little attention, he came
+back.  She had to go into colours again before the black was half wore
+out, an expense all for nothing that she could ill afford, poor thing!
+But as William--that was my second--used to say: 'There's no plumbing
+the depths of a man's folly when he's a fool.'  He should have written
+and told her that he wasn't dead; but that meant sending her money.
+Perhaps Mr. Ananda may come back one day like Sergeant Thompson."
+
+"His uncle stopped me on my way here to ask if I knew anything of him.
+I could give him no information, and I take it that you can't help any
+more than I can."
+
+"That's so right enough, and if you see the budmash again you may tell
+him that his precious nephew's whereabouts has nothing to do with me."
+
+"Possibly; but as Mr. Ananda belongs to our faith, I certainly think
+that his welfare has a great deal to do with me," said Alderbury with a
+touch of severity.
+
+"Of course, sir; it's only right; it's your profession to look after
+the converts.  My business is housekeeping; and if the Christmas turkey
+was missing from the larder I should be in even more of a taking than
+you are over Mr. Ananda.  As William--that was my first--used to say:
+'Mind your own business and leave others to mind theirs.'  You are
+leaving us to-morrow, sir, I understand.  I've seen your men; they want
+to start off to-night with the cart if you have no objection.  The
+portmanteau you are using will go on the motor.  This will give them
+time to get to the mission-station before you arrive.  I told your
+servant that I thought he could be spared."
+
+"By all means let them go if they wish.  We shall all be glad to get
+home as we have been on a longer round than usual this time."
+
+"Yes, sir; as William--that was my third--used to say, when he got
+safely back after leaning a little too far in the canteen direction:
+'There's no place like home, even though it's only a pigsty, Maria, me
+dear,' that was his way of speaking, he was such a gentleman in his
+manners."
+
+"My house is not a pigsty, Mrs. Hulver," protested Alderbury, while
+Eola's eyes twinkled.
+
+"I'm not saying that it is, though there's no woman in it.  As
+William--that was my third--used to say: 'A house without a woman is
+only a house; it can never be called a home, however clever the man may
+be.'"
+
+"It is a fault that may be easily remedied," responded Alderbury.
+
+Mrs. Hulver glanced at him suspiciously, and then let her eyes rest
+upon Eola.
+
+"If you were a bishop you might say so, sir; but you're not a bishop,
+and begging your pardon for saying so, you're not likely to be if I may
+judge by your legs.  Gaiters would be impossible for you, even though
+you let your apron down a good four inches.  As William--that was my
+second and as soldierly-looking man as ever stepped--used to say: 'It
+isn't every figure that will fit every profession.'  I may tell you,
+sir, that by reason of my fullness of figure I was never chosen when I
+was young for the leading fairy in the regimental pantomime at
+Christmas.  I was given to fullness early; but excepting in the matter
+at the pantomime I never felt any inconvenience from being stout.  My
+husbands all admired stout women, and they said one after the other
+that fat in a woman may make her short in the breath, but it keeps her
+smiling.  Now you're given the other way and you've got just the figure
+for a missionary."
+
+"And so missionary I am to remain, eh, Mrs. Hulver?"
+
+"There's great virtue in knowing your place and your station, sir,"
+responded Mrs. Hulver, feeling that she was having the opportunity of
+her life to give the ineligible a bit of her mind.  "One day you will
+meet a lady, suitable for a missionary's wife; and though she may dress
+plain, she will soon turn your house into a home with curtains and
+carpets and decent house-linen.  She must be a good housekeeper."  Mrs.
+Hulver again let her eyes rest on Eola as though she were taking the
+measure of her shortcomings in that respect.  "And she must be sharp as
+a needle with the butler over the house accounts."
+
+"If I am ever a bishop, Mrs. Hulver, I suppose I need not be so rigid
+over the housekeeping qualities of my wife.  A bishop usually has a
+housekeeper."
+
+"Lor, sir, how you talk!  As if that would ever come to pass!  But as
+William--that was my third--used to say: 'Many people talk like
+generals but have to live like privates.'  There's no harm in your
+talking of being a bishop as long as you're content to live like a
+missionary.  I must be going; I have a lot to do."
+
+She bustled away, and with her went the smile that had rested on
+Alderbury's face.  Eola watching him noted the change.
+
+"What is it?" she asked.  "You are troubled.  Are you thinking of
+Ananda?"
+
+"Yes; and I am blaming myself," he replied quickly.  "There is so much
+I might have done to prevent this catastrophe if I had come when your
+brother called me.  Instead of coming I wrote.  It was not enough."
+
+"I don't believe in a catastrophe.  I don't believe that he is dead; I
+am sure Mrs. Hulver doesn't believe it or she would not be so
+indifferent.  What do you fear?"
+
+"That they have killed him between them."
+
+"They would not dare!  That would be murder and they would fear the
+penalty."
+
+"Unfortunately there is no penalty in the case of an outcaste, a
+convert to Christianity.  There might be some sort of a trial, but no
+judge in the State of Chirapore would do more than impose a slight
+punishment."
+
+"Come into the fernery and look at my palms and lilies," she said,
+rising to get her hat.
+
+She succeeded in dispersing the anxiety that had settled down upon him
+as he considered Ananda's case; and once more the convert was
+forgotten.  Her hands were buried in the fronds of a maidenhair when he
+said suddenly:
+
+"Don't do that; it isn't safe; there might be a snake hidden in the
+fern."
+
+She laughed, but did not move her hands.  Then he took them in his and
+drew her away from the pot where he feared danger might lurk.
+
+"Eola, will you come and make my house a home for me?  I want you; I
+can't live without you," he concluded with a strong man's passion.
+
+She looked up at him suddenly serious.
+
+"Think how far I fall short of the ideal!  I----  Oh, really you are
+the most masterful man I ever met.  Mr. Alderbury----!"  And then her
+head dropped and she surrendered.
+
+"Are you converted to my way of thinking," he said at last.  "Or, shall
+I continue my arguments?"
+
+"I am quite converted; quite!" she replied, and her eyes shone.
+
+"Then I may tell you a secret.  Whatever my figure may be in Mrs.
+Hulver's opinion, the gaiters and apron are looming in the distance.  I
+heard from England by the last mail that I have been nominated for a
+colonial bishopric;" and he named the diocese.
+
+"What fun it will be to see the dear old woman's face when she hears of
+it!"
+
+He drew her down to a seat among the ferns.
+
+"Never mind the old woman.  I want the whole of your attention.  There
+is so much to talk about and we have only till to-morrow," he said,
+already grudging the moments.
+
+"Anyway my conversion is complete."
+
+"Oh, is it?  I am not so sure of that.  At any rate I will see that
+nothing is left undone to make it so!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+Lunch was over; the car stood under the portico breathing gently like a
+tamed and willing monster held in a metal leash.  Alderbury, ready to
+start, was inclined to yield to a new temptation and linger in his
+leave-taking.  Wenaston politely stayed to see his guest off under the
+mistaken impression that it was a necessary courtesy.  At the same time
+his ear was open for the sound of the school bell.
+
+"I am sorry that you have not succeeded in the object of your visit,"
+he remarked, his conscience still troubling him in the matter of the
+'vert.
+
+Alderbury and Eola exchanged glances with an amused twinkle of the eye.
+If there had been failure on one point, on another the missionary had
+achieved a marked success.
+
+"We must leave it alone for the present," he said with a seriousness
+that was not assumed.  "When you are confronted with caste, you stand
+before invincible plates of steel.  To beat against them violently does
+more harm than good.  We must wait for the doors to open of themselves.
+There can be no forcing them open."
+
+"I hope the poor fellow is safe."
+
+"And I hope and pray that he is standing firm in the new faith,"
+responded Alderbury quickly.
+
+"I used to think that Ananda was weak in character."
+
+"Possibly he was; but after all that he has gone through his character
+must have strengthened marvellously.  I have known similar cases,
+although not among the higher castes.  The fervent religious instinct
+of the Hindu sustains him in circumstances where a less religious
+temperament would give way."
+
+"You believe that he is under his father's roof?"
+
+"From what I gathered yesterday afternoon in my inquiry of the town's
+people, I feel sure that he has not been allowed to leave the place."
+
+"Is he safe?"
+
+The question was asked with an anxiety the Principal could not hide.
+
+"Ah! that I cannot undertake to say.  All the same I have a strong hope
+that beyond petty persecution he is, comparatively speaking, safe.  My
+hope originates with Bopaul.  His manner gave me confidence.  I met him
+in the town; he spoke openly of his friend's disappearance, and seemed
+in no way concerned about it.  He laughed at the theory of suicide.  If
+he had any suspicion of a tragedy he would not show such indifference.
+I know for a fact that he is very much attached to Ananda."
+
+"They were together in England and they both felt Coomara's death.  I
+was with them at the time, if you remember.  The accident was a great
+shock to us all, and my nerves are not what they used to be.  The
+person least affected was Bopaul apparently," said Wenaston.
+
+"We don't know how it affected him; he has a peculiar nature, and hides
+his real sentiments under a careless flippancy which his actions
+frequently belie."
+
+"He certainly is a strange mixture of incorruptible orthodoxy and
+modern tolerance," assented Wenaston.
+
+Alderbury commented tersely and incisively on the new Hinduism of the
+Presidency towns, and compared it with the old-fashioned bigotry to be
+found up-country, where there was less European influence than in the
+great educational centres.  Native states with their native officials
+were even still further behind than British India, opposing religious
+reform with strong prejudiced conservatism.
+
+"I suppose you welcome this new tolerance as a step in the right
+direction."
+
+"Not at all," exclaimed Alderbury, his fighting instinct roused.  "It
+is more difficult to attack than the old intolerance; it is elusive,
+shifty, the outcome of the Brahmanical facility of adaptation which is
+the invariable resource of the Hindu philosopher in every religious
+innovation.  I would rather come to blows with the fanatical old
+Brahman than with one of these modern men whose policy is to agree with
+reservation."
+
+"So you turn to the untouchables."
+
+"Who form a sixth of India's population.  They offer us a wide field
+for our energies," replied Alderbury.
+
+"You are wise to give the caste people the go-by."
+
+The missionary was up in arms at once at the implication that he turned
+his back on any one.
+
+"Excuse me!  We don't give them the go-by.  We are ready watching for
+the moment when the thin edge of the wedge may be inserted without
+bringing disaster upon them and ourselves.  By the by, an odd thing
+happened yesterday.  Bopaul to my astonishment asked me if I would
+befriend his sister, the widow of the man who was killed in the railway
+accident."
+
+"Coomara!  I had forgotten that he married Bopaul's sister."
+
+"It was no more than a betrothal.  Bopaul explained that his sister was
+not happy at home; and that it would be a relief to the whole family,
+in his opinion, if she were removed.  Then he laughed as though the
+attitude of his relations amused him.  He proposed that she should be
+placed in our mission school."
+
+"Does the family consent?" asked Wenaston in some surprise; for no one
+understood the prejudices of the high caste families of Chirapore
+better than himself.
+
+"Apparently his parents are too indifferent to the widow's fate to care
+whether she throws herself down the well or disappears off the scenes
+in any other way.  I told him to speak to his people about it; and if
+they consented I would willingly take her."
+
+The school bell rang and Wenaston rose from his chair.
+
+"I must be off.  Good-bye, Alderbury," exclaimed Wenaston.  "Come again
+as soon as you can; a warm welcome will be ready for you."
+
+The hand-clasp expressed even more than the tongue, as the two friends
+parted with the knowledge that before long a closer and more intimate
+tie would be forged to bind them together.
+
+Five minutes later Alderbury stood on the steps of the verandah ready
+to enter the car.  He turned to Eola once more.
+
+"I haven't said good-bye to Mrs. Hulver.  Have you told her our news?"
+
+"Not yet; she has been too much occupied with her son to think of
+anything else.  She was to go off early this morning with young
+William; and she asked me not to expect her back till this evening.  I
+might have let her into the secret last night; but I heard after dinner
+that she had gone to bed."
+
+"I don't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.  I am sure that
+she will forbid the banns," he replied in comical concern that did not
+deceive Eola.
+
+"She will quote the wisdom of the three departed Williams in support of
+her action," she added, and her laugh had a new ring of happiness in it.
+
+The car slid noiselessly down the drive and turned into the great
+southern road.  Alderbury leaned back on its cushions luxuriously, his
+thoughts busy with the woman he had just left.  He had been lifted
+along on the wings of destiny.  He had come to Chirapore to hold out a
+helping hand to a fellow creature in distress, and had found his own
+happiness as a reward.
+
+Having taken the step he was of too strong a character to entertain any
+doubt as to its wisdom.  However short she might fall of the ideal
+missionary's wife, she was his desire and he was hers.  This new
+knowledge and certainty lifted him into a sphere of joy he had never
+before touched.
+
+After a few minutes indulgence in purely selfish dreams, Eola with all
+she meant for him was put resolutely aside.  He took out the bundle of
+letters that awaited him at the college house and proceeded to read
+them afresh, making notes of the replies on the envelopes.
+
+The car moved along the smooth road at a moderate pace.  Now and then
+the eyes of the occupant ranged over the undulating landscape, resting
+with appreciation on the patches of green forest covering the crests of
+the hills, and the stretches of rice fields interspersed with
+plantations of areca-nut palms in the valleys.
+
+Few travellers were on the road.  A string of country carts crept
+slowly towards the town, bearing the produce of the rich smiling land
+to market.  The car shot by with a deep hum that set the wild-eyed
+bullocks snorting and backing under their yokes; and transformed the
+drivers into kicking fiends.  In vain they sought to inspire the
+terrified cattle with courage and confidence by a liberal application
+of the toe.  It was not until the car disappeared in the distance, and
+its weird hum was lost to the ear that the bullocks were recalled to
+order and a sense of duty, and the drivers were able to drop back into
+idle clucking at their beasts.
+
+Six miles of quiet travelling came to an abrupt end.  The native
+chauffeur pulled up at a signal from a traveller on the road, walking
+in the same direction as the car was moving.  Alderbury, who was
+absorbed in the composition of a letter to the head office of his
+society, looked up, and to his amazement recognised Bopaul.
+
+"I am going to ask you a great favour, sir," said the latter after the
+exchange of greetings.  "I have my sister here.  Will you be so good as
+to give her a seat in the car; and to take her to your mission-station?"
+
+Alderbury glanced beyond the speaker and caught sight of the shrinking
+figure of the widow.  Her saree was drawn over her bald head to hide
+the mark of shame and disgrace.  Her eyes were cast down, and the hand
+that grasped the coarse cloth to keep it in position trembled.
+
+"Of course you take the responsibility upon yourself, Bopaul," said
+Alderbury looking at the girl with pity born of an intimate knowledge
+of what widowhood meant for one so young.
+
+"Certainly, sir," responded Bopaul quickly.
+
+"She will be at perfect liberty to return if the family desire it.  It
+does our work no good to have even the semblance of abduction."
+
+"You need have no fear of trouble, sir.  My people will make no
+objection whatever.  If her husband were alive it would be quite
+another matter; but with a widow!" he smiled with gentle cynicism,
+"whoever heard of any regret being felt at the absence or even the
+death of a Hindu widow?"
+
+"Very well; I will take your word for it that all is well, and that I
+am only carrying out the general wish of the family.  Let her get in
+the car at once, as I must be going on my way, or I shall be benighted."
+
+"She will sit by the chauffeur."
+
+"There is plenty of room inside," said Alderbury, pushing cushions and
+rug into some order.
+
+Bopaul went to the side of the road where his sister stood and said a
+few words in a low tone.  She did not reply, but made a movement of the
+head showing that she understood his directions.  Then he took her by
+the hand and led her to the car.
+
+"Get in, little sister.  You will be quite safe with the missionary;
+and if you are not happy with him, ask him to write and tell me so.  I
+will come myself and fetch you back, but I know you will not want to
+come back; you will find your happiness there; not here."
+
+"It is understood by your family that she will probably become a
+Christian if she remains with us," said Alderbury who was a little
+puzzled by Bopaul's manner.
+
+"She is at liberty to do as she pleases.  Of one thing I can assure
+you; I can answer for her willingness to work at anything that will
+help to earn her keep."
+
+"And her name?"
+
+"I call her Mayita; but she will probably prefer to be called by some
+other name when she enters the mission," replied Bopaul with another
+smile.
+
+"She has no luggage of any kind, no bundle of clothes?"
+
+"Widows own nothing.  They are deprived of every possession in the
+world.  Even their hair is taken from them," her brother answered.
+
+During this conversation Mayita sat silent with her head bent and the
+saree veiling her face.  Suddenly the cloth was pushed backwards and
+she leaned towards Bopaul both hands extended.
+
+"Brother, may the gods reward you for your goodness to the poor widow!"
+
+"Good-bye little sister.  Take heart and be brave.  Now go, sir, and
+believe me that all will be well."
+
+The car glided forward and left Bopaul standing there.  He watched it
+until nothing was visible but the cloud of soft dust that hung like
+smoke in the warm air of the afternoon.
+
+Then he turned round and set off at a steady pace homewards.  Again the
+characteristic smile appeared and he murmured to himself:
+
+"In the name of friendship; not in the name of religion!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+Alderbury addressed a few words to his companion in the language of the
+country and received monosyllabic replies which gave him no
+encouragement to persevere in his efforts at making conversation or to
+extract information.  He concluded that she was a shy and frightened
+member of a zenana where very little liberty was allowed.  It would all
+come right in time; she would lose the shy self-consciousness with
+education.
+
+From his companion his thoughts went to her brother.  He distrusted
+Bopaul's cynicism, mild and harmless though it might be; but he could
+not help admiring the force of character in the man who had struck
+whilst the iron was hot.  If Bopaul had not handed her over personally
+and assured him that all was well, Alderbury would never have ventured
+to take the girl away.  The parents had probably been urged to give a
+consent, and before they could withdraw it their son had taken action
+to carry out the intention.  It was evident that he revolted against
+the Hindu system of widowhood, and with his modern enlightenment
+desired reform.  This was his method of protest and it was to be
+commended.  It was also in its way a mark of the philanthropy that is
+entering the Hinduism of the present day, one of the attributes of
+Christianity which Brahmanism is ready to adopt into its system and
+claim as its own.
+
+More than two hours passed during which Mayita, shrouded in her saree,
+nestled in the corner of the big motor car.  Alderbury returned to the
+perusal of his letters and forgot her very existence.  So still and
+silent was she that she might have been one of the leather cushions
+instead of a human waif.  They passed the boundary of the native State
+and sped through British territory.  In another half hour they entered
+the little town that had been Christianised.  Alderbury put away his
+letters and kept his eyes on the road, that he might not miss the
+smiles and nods of the villagers as they welcomed him back.
+
+The mission house was a large rambling bungalow with thatched roof and
+wide verandahs.  In the same compound stood the school and orphanage.
+At a little distance was the church shining with marble whiteness in
+the afternoon sun.
+
+As the car drew up under a porch made of rough square stone pillars and
+palm-leaf roof, Alderbury thought of the handsome portico of the
+college house, a very different building.  He jumped out of the car
+with his habitual impetuosity forgetting his companion.  Mrs. Hulver's
+words were in his mind.  A house without a woman was only a house.  It
+was quite true although his careful servant had not forgotten to
+prepare a late afternoon tea.  He noted the table set in the verandah
+with the earthen tea-pot and the thick cups that bore the mark of many
+camping expeditions through his district.  Very different, was the
+table from the dainty arrangement in another verandah, where the figure
+of the tea-maker was set in a background of ipomea and bignonia.
+
+"Bring tea quickly, boy," he said as he passed on towards his
+sitting-room in search of the letters that should have come by the
+morning post.
+
+The servant glanced after him and then held up his hand to arrest the
+figure that followed.
+
+"Wait, lady, until the master calls," he said respectfully; and Mayita
+stood listening and trembling in the verandah.
+
+As Alderbury entered his sitting-room a man rose from a chair and
+advanced to meet him.  He was dressed in European clothes although he
+was a Hindu.  Over his eye was a recently healed wound.
+
+"Ananda!" cried Alderbury, astonished beyond measure.
+
+"The same, sir," was the reply.
+
+"How did you get here?  We made so sure of your being still under your
+father's roof that I can scarcely believe my eyes."
+
+"By the help of friends.  It is a long story----"
+
+His words were checked by the sound of a cry.  The widow refusing to be
+detained any longer by the servant, rushed forward past Alderbury,
+never stopping till she had fallen at Ananda's feet.  In a moment he
+was on his knees by her side forgetful of the missionary and all else.
+
+"My wife! my pearl! my beloved!  How did you manage to escape? how did
+you get here?  But what have they done to you my beautiful lotus?  They
+have cut off your hair! and this cloth! what does it mean?"
+
+The words poured from his lips with a string of eager questions which
+Dorama could only answer with sobs.
+
+"Who do you say this woman is?" demanded Alderbury in some bewilderment.
+
+"She is Dorama, my wife, sir!  And see what they have done to her, poor
+child!  Not content with nearly beating the life out of me they have
+widowed her! the brutes!  This is my uncle's doing.  I will be even
+with him.  He shall answer for it with his life!  I will kill him as he
+would have killed me; and I will widow his----"
+
+"Gently, Ananda!  The Hindu in you dies hard.  You do well to be angry,
+but don't mistake anger for revenge."
+
+The hand that was laid upon his shoulder held in check the tempestuous
+wrath.
+
+"Forgive me, sir.  Wrong done against myself I can forgive--but this!"
+He looked down at his wife.
+
+"They believed that you had drowned yourself, so successfully have you
+been hidden," said Alderbury.  "And they considered themselves
+justified in their action."
+
+Ananda lifted his drooping, but happy, wife to her feet and kept his
+arm about her.  His anger melted and he forgot his wrath in the
+consciousness of her presence.
+
+"How did she come here," he asked in calmer tones.
+
+"I brought her," replied Alderbury.
+
+"You, sir," repeated Ananda in surprise.
+
+"Yes; your friend Bopaul must have interested himself in your affairs;
+for it was he who met me on the road this afternoon and begged me to
+take his widowed sister to the mission house and keep her there.  He
+deceived me and took me in completely."
+
+A smile dispersed the frown of anger that had rested on Ananda's face.
+
+"Ah, the clever Bopaul!  It was well planned.  He is a friend worth
+having!" he said warmly.
+
+"I'm afraid he is--a--a perverter of the truth!" blurted out the
+missionary.
+
+"A splendid liar!" agreed Ananda enthusiastically.  "I know of no one
+better.  It is a great accomplishment in a Hindu to lie usefully and
+successfully."
+
+"But it is altogether wrong in a Christian."
+
+"I know it is!" replied the 'vert with a sigh of contrition.  "I am
+afraid I have not been altogether straightforward myself of late."
+
+"Tell me all about yourself and how you managed to escape," said
+Alderbury kindly, knowing that it would be best for him to talk it out
+instead of brooding over his wrongs, and perhaps being incited by his
+wife to further ill-will in considering the persecution she had endured
+for his sake.  "When did you arrive?"
+
+They seated themselves, Ananda retaining his hold on his wife as though
+he still feared lest she should be snatched away from him again.  She
+sank upon the floor at his feet, resting an arm upon his knee with a
+comfortable sense of security which went towards compensating her for
+some of the unhappiness that had lately fallen to her lot.  Alderbury
+called for the tea to be brought into his sitting-room.
+
+"I arrived this morning."
+
+"By train?"
+
+"No, sir; I came by bullock cart.  Let me tell you the story from the
+beginning.  After your call at my father's house I was allowed to see
+my wife in the presence of the guru, who paid us a visit to inquire why
+the restitution ceremonies had not been performed.  He tried to come
+between myself and my wife; but I was determined not to permit anything
+of the kind.  Our interview was not pleasant.  After it was over, and I
+had returned to my room I resolved to put an end to the uncomfortable
+state of affairs and leave my father's house."
+
+"You were right in your intention."
+
+"I made a mistake in not accepting your offer of help, sir.  It was an
+error of judgment.  My intention was to right my own battle without
+assistance."
+
+"I understand; but how did you ultimately get away?"
+
+"I was to all intents and purposes a prisoner in the house, and escape
+was no easy matter.  I found a friend in the pariah I despised so much.
+By his advice I made the contents of my boxes into bundles and he
+undertook to take them to Biddapet, a station about ten miles out of
+Chirapore in this direction.  I was coming here, of course.  The
+luggage was gone and I was spending what I hoped was my last night in
+that miserable little room when I was awakened by a touch on my hand.
+It was my wife.  She came to me in great distress to tell me that our
+son was dead."
+
+There was a pause which Alderbury did not break.  Ananda went on with
+his story.
+
+"I persuaded her to throw in her lot with mine.  It was a long walk to
+Biddapet, but she thought she could manage it if I gave her time.  We
+started off before it was light and reached the wall of the compound.
+Unfortunately we disturbed a pariah dog.  It barked and I threw a stone
+at it.  It shrieked and the noise must have been heard in the house;
+for we were followed by our uncle and four other members of the family.
+They caught us up and we were powerless in their hands.  There was
+nothing to be done but to go back, which we did; and when we reached
+the house my wife and I were again separated.  That night I was
+severely beaten; and during the frightful ordeal my uncle never ceased
+to call upon me to recant.  How I lived through it I don't know.  God
+in his goodness gave me strength to bear the pain and to hold fast to
+Christ.  I did not take my punishment with the meekness of the Great
+Master.  I fought for my liberty.  They were too many and too strong
+for me, however.  I was held down, and it seemed at the time as if they
+must break every bone in my body."
+
+Up to that point Ananda had used the English tongue.  He laid his hand
+on his wife's and asked in native speech whether she knew that he had
+been beaten.
+
+"Aiyoh! husband!  I suffered and died with thee, beloved lord!"
+
+Her eyes filled with tears and she kissed the hand passionately.  He
+continued in the vernacular which Alderbury understood.
+
+"After they left me I fainted.  I don't know how long I lay there, but
+the next thing I remember was water being dashed into my face.  I tried
+to protect my eyes, but the movement gave me great pain, and I cried
+out; I was so terribly bruised.  Someone spoke to me in a whisper and
+told me to be quiet.  Once more my friend in need was the sweeper; the
+man you saw, Mr. Alderbury, when you paid me a visit."
+
+"You were too sick to think of caste any longer, I imagine."
+
+"Indeed, I was!  I let him do with me as he would; and I was grateful,
+more grateful than I can express.  He rubbed my wounds with some
+soothing ointment and staunched the blood; for I was bleeding a good
+deal.  Then he gave me a draught with opium in it.  It deadened the
+pain and made me drowsy and indifferent to all that was happening to
+me."
+
+"Good man! worthy of the name of Christian though he is only a
+heathen," commented Alderbury with warm approval.
+
+Dorama did not take the same view.
+
+"Husband, did you really accept the services of the sweeper?" she
+asked, her wondering eyes lifted to his with concern for his welfare.
+
+"Yes, my lotus flower, I did; and I owe him my life.  I should have
+died of exhaustion and starvation if I had been left untended all that
+night and the following day."
+
+"What happened next?" asked Alderbury as Ananda showed a disposition to
+end his tale there.
+
+"Before I continue my story I must ask you to keep my secret.  I have
+given a promise that it is to be told to no one but yourself; and I
+pray you to respect our confidence."
+
+"'Our confidence'?"
+
+"Mine and Mrs. Hulver's."
+
+There was a pause; and then, as enlightenment came, Alderbury said in a
+low voice:
+
+"So then, you were young William?"
+
+"The sweeper carried me wrapped in a sheet; for I could neither walk
+nor stand.  It was between two and three o'clock in the morning when I
+was hoisted on to his back in a half unconscious state, my senses too
+stupefied to feel much pain, and I was taken to the college house.
+Mrs. Hulver was roused from her sleep by the sweeper woman--who works
+there, and is a relative of the man--and I was handed over to the
+housekeeper.  I have since called her mother, so good and kind has she
+been to me.  Under her care I recovered."
+
+"And through her good offices you have come to me.  How did you get
+here?  By train?"
+
+"No, sir; I came in your own cart and brought my luggage with me,"
+replied Ananda.  He continued his story.  "When the sweeper found that
+I did not turn up as I promised at the little station, he carried the
+bundles back to his own house and came hot-foot to learn the reason of
+my failure to keep the appointment.  There he found me in that sorry
+plight."
+
+"I am still puzzled," said Alderbury after a little thought.  "Mrs.
+Hulver's son was seen by Miss Wenaston lying on the cot in her
+sitting-room; and he was wearing uniform, the uniform of the regiment."
+
+"When I regained consciousness in her room, I found myself dressed in
+the uniform that belonged to her son's father.  She had kept it, and
+though it was very old and a loose fit, it served as an excellent
+disguise."
+
+"She is a wonderful woman!"
+
+"The kindest! the best!"
+
+Ananda stopped with sudden emotion, his heart too full for words.
+
+"I suppose this means that all communication between yourself and your
+family comes to an end," remarked Alderbury.
+
+"I think not, sir," replied Ananda in a decisive voice.  "Why should I
+be banished from my home like a criminal because I have changed my
+religion?  I shall not allow my wife to go back.  There is no reason
+why she should run any risk of insult; but I shall go back later on,
+when the irritation against me has died down, and see my father and
+mother."
+
+"Don't put yourself in any unnecessary danger.  Past experience should
+make you careful," said Alderbury.
+
+"It has been dearly bought and is not likely to be forgotten," replied
+Ananda, with a touch of bitterness.
+
+"And remember also that in Chirapore you, as an outcaste and Christian,
+have no civil rights."
+
+"I am not likely to forget what is the only stain upon its government
+as a model native State.  I should not think of returning to live
+there; but I mean to go some time or other to see my mother."
+
+The old obstinacy was still to the fore.  Behind it stood no longer the
+weakness and vacillation of youth, but the noble courage of a man who
+had been tried in the fire of affliction and not found wanting.
+
+"And now I want to know how your wife managed to get away and meet me
+on the road."
+
+"Tell your story, beloved.  I, too, want to hear how you escaped and
+who befriended you," said Ananda.
+
+"The friend was the same Englishwoman who helped you," answered Dorama
+timidly; but gaining courage she continued: "She arranged it all with
+Bopaul.  There was no difficulty; for since I have been thus"--she
+touched her coarse cloth--"no one has cared how I spent my time nor
+where I wandered.  Mayita came every day to see me and we passed hours
+in your little room, my lord, where I found this!"  She pulled out his
+glove and showed it to him.  "At sunset yesterday Mayita brought me a
+message from Bopaul to say that my husband was alive and safe on
+British ground, out of reach of our uncle's spite.  Oh, how I rejoiced
+at the good news! but I was obliged to hide my feelings.  Mayita told
+me that if I wished to see him again, I was to keep my secret and
+follow every direction sent by her, without asking any questions.  This
+morning as soon as I could leave the house I went to the little room
+and there I found Mayita waiting for me.  She said that I was to go at
+once to Bopaul whom I should find in the compound.  He was there.
+Without a word he took my hand as he takes his sister's and together we
+walked away.  Any one seeing us from the house would have thought that
+he was leading his sister home, for my saree was drawn over my head;
+and Mayita has grown nearly as tall as I am."
+
+"Did no one notice you, my pearl?"
+
+"Who would let his eye rest on the unlucky widow any longer than he
+could help?  Those who might have seen turned their heads away."
+
+"Your wife may thank your enemies for what they did," remarked
+Alderbury.  "Without her widow's dress she could never have escaped."
+
+"Bopaul brought some food with him, for we had a long way to go.  We
+walked steadily for an hour.  Then he made me sit down and rest.
+Afterwards we walked again, and my heart beat fast when I heard the
+call of the big fire carriage; but I grew quiet again when I sat by Mr.
+Alderbury's side, and we flew along the road like the wind.  I felt
+that no one, not even our uncle, could catch me and take me back.  Ah,
+husband, how I suffered when they did this to me!"
+
+She passed her hand over her bald head.  Ananda stooped and kissed the
+shaven crown.
+
+"Beloved, it will soon grow again and be more beautiful than ever."
+
+Alderbury slipped away unnoticed.  He was full of sympathy for the two
+poor souls who had passed through so much pain whilst for himself all
+had been as he desired.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+Mayita had a long day in the little room by herself, but the time
+passed quickly.  Bopaul provided her with a packet of cakes and sweets
+to serve instead of the midday meal which she would be obliged to miss.
+He explained to his mother that they were going some distance and would
+not be home till sunset.  No surprise, therefore, was caused by
+Mayita's absence.
+
+She had brought the bridegroom and bride with her, and she spent a very
+busy day marrying the happy wood-apple to the satin-white datura
+blossom plucked fresh from the tree on the way there.  The oleander
+bush and gourd supplied the flowers required for the guests; and as for
+the feast, no pretence was needed.  The cakes were real; the sweets
+were of the best; and as she ate them Mayita's enjoyment was abundant
+enough for herself and the numerous guests represented by a goodly
+array of sticks and stones.
+
+She lived in a little kingdom of her own; and for the time she was dead
+to that cold outer world which treated her so unkindly.  In the
+beautiful domain of her imagination her widowhood passed away and she
+was the mother of the bride or bridegroom according to her fancy.
+Various sounds in the distance met her ear, but she paid no heed to
+them.  The jangle of bullock bells only stirred her sufficiently to
+bring to her remembrance the fact that the bridegroom should have a
+gilded bullock coach in his procession.  It sent her on a careful
+search through the yard for something that would represent the coach.
+
+The sound of the bullock bells caused a greater sensation in the house
+than in Ananda's little room.  They broke suddenly upon the household
+an hour before the midday meal, as the cattle plunged up the
+carriage-drive and were stopped with much sighing and snorting before
+the front verandah.
+
+The door of the coach was opened by a firm unhesitating hand, and out
+stepped no less a person than Gunga herself.  She bore no sign of
+widowhood in her appearance.  Her upright figure was swathed in a new
+silk saree that, like Mrs. Hulver's Sunday dress, "stood by itself."
+She wore a purple satin jacket and a crimson silk petticoat.  The rich
+gold embroidered border of the saree held the wealth of colour
+together, and saved the whole from tawdriness.
+
+With the dignity of a ranee of the olden days she moved up the steps of
+the family mansion and entered her house.  A cry of surprise greeted
+her as the various members came hurriedly forward to make their
+salaams.  Sooba's wife when she had recovered from her astonishment was
+not behindhand with her welcome.  Her husband was out, she informed her
+sister-in-law, but he would return to dinner.
+
+Gunga's eyes were everywhere; she led the way to the kitchen, where she
+looked into the seething pots and bubbling curries.  She found nothing
+wrong and expressed general approval of her sister-in-law's management.
+Having satisfied herself she left the kitchen.  Sooba's wife followed
+closely at her heels deputing another woman to take up her duties.
+Mats and cushions were brought, and the two sisters seated themselves
+in the courtyard to have a chat before the food was served.
+
+"How does our excellent elder brother spend his time?" asked Sooba's
+wife, burning with curiosity to know if the invalid were much worse.
+
+"He has taken over charge of the farm."
+
+"It must be hard work for one in such poor health."
+
+"Not at all!" snapped Gunga, who did not like these personal inquiries;
+they were a breach of etiquette, and likely to bring bad luck upon the
+subject.  "The health of all the family at the farm is excellent.
+Strongest of all is the big master; he is like a man of thirty instead
+of fifty, and he is busy all day long with the rest."
+
+"This is good news, sister.  My husband will be rejoiced to learn it.
+We feared that you were having much anxiety."
+
+The halting speech betrayed her real feeling, and Gunga was not
+deceived.  With keen enjoyment of the discomfiture of the other she
+gave more details of her husband's restoration to health.
+
+"I felt sure that you and our little brother would be pleased to hear
+of the improvement," she concluded.
+
+"How is the silk farm doing?" asked the other, hoping to defer the
+cross examination that she knew was pending.  She felt unequal to the
+task of explaining satisfactorily all that had occurred of late.  Sooba
+himself must account for his various unwarranted assumptions in his
+stewardship.  Gunga was quite ready to talk of the silk business with
+its new developments.  She retailed at length the history of its
+culture on the farm--all they had done and all they hoped to do.  She
+described their plans for further improvements by which their profits
+might have increased and the industry expanded.
+
+"The manager leaves us in a week's time, and my husband will continue
+to superintend until he returns six months hence."
+
+The spirits of the listener rose at this information; it was highly
+satisfactory as far as Sooba was concerned.  Considering that there was
+no longer any fear apparently of Pantulu's death, the next best thing
+for his younger brother's interests would be a prolonged absence with
+the creation of new interests outside Chirapore city.  In the midst of
+their conversation Sooba himself appeared.  He had seen the bullocks
+tethered in the compound, but had not heard who the visitor was.  He
+thought it might be a merchant come from a distance to buy silk or
+cotton or rice; and with the intention of creating an impression of his
+own importance he swaggered in, speaking with a loud strident voice
+that could be heard all over the house.
+
+"Wife!" he called.  "Where are the men of the family!  Why isn't the
+food ready?  What are your lazy women about in the kitchen?  We shall
+have to send some of them out into the fields if they can't do their
+work in the house.  Don't they know that the master is hungry and would
+eat?"
+
+His wife scrambled to her feet and went to meet him.  Before she could
+say a word he recommenced his scolding.  "A new bamboo is wanted for
+this lazy family; and if the mistress will not use it, the master will
+take it in his own hand.  I warn these idlers that the stick will not
+fall lightly or sparingly."
+
+A figure appeared suddenly behind his shrinking wife, tall, stern and
+commanding, with no fear in her eye.
+
+"Neither the master nor the mistress of this house requires a new
+bamboo unless it be for the back of a presumptuous younger brother,"
+she cried in a tone that startled Sooba more than a little.  He fell
+back a pace or two as he was confronted by the angry Gunga.
+
+"Sister!  I did not know you were here!  When did you arrive?"  Then as
+he received no reply he continued turning to his trembling wife.
+"Woman, have you seen to the comfort of the big mistress?  Have you
+provided the curry she likes with plenty of green chutney?"
+
+She was not to be taken in by this solicitation for her personal
+welfare, and she replied sharply:
+
+"I have everything I want.  As the house is mine I have only to give my
+orders.  Sister, go to the kitchen and see that the rice is properly
+strained before it is served out."
+
+Sooba's wife gladly made her escape, and left her husband to bear the
+brunt of the storm that she guessed was not far off.
+
+"You have taken too much upon you, brother.  We did not make you master
+of the house, but steward in our absence.  It seems that you have
+misunderstood your position."
+
+"I have done my best," replied Sooba sullenly.  "From all we have heard
+it is probably that the time is not far distant when I shall be the
+real master, since the son you bore your husband has become an
+outcaste."
+
+The taunt only added fuel to the fire that was already burning within
+the breast of the mother.
+
+"The mention of my son reminds me to ask where he is.  News was brought
+to the silk farm which I could scarcely believe.  It was said that you
+had driven him away, and that he has left his home without saying where
+he has gone."
+
+"My fool of a wife has been telling you tales," he replied, scowling in
+a manner that promised ill for her.
+
+"I have learned nothing from your wife.  I asked no questions but kept
+them for you.  The news was brought to me by the men who returned from
+carrying the last bales of silk to the go-downs in Chirapore.  They
+heard it in the bazaar; and I have come to inquire into its truth and
+to learn first and foremost where my son is."
+
+She let her eyes rest upon him with a keen inquiry there was no
+evading.  Much as he disliked the close catechising he was obliged to
+reply.
+
+"We have every reason to believe that he has thrown himself down the
+well."
+
+"Why should he be tempted to do such a thing?"
+
+"He was angry and offended because we gave him the punishment ordered
+by the swami.  It was light and less than he deserved----"
+
+"I have heard another story.  Where is his wife?"
+
+"She is here in the house."
+
+"I don't see her in the kitchen, where, as my daughter-in-law, she
+should be superintending the women."
+
+"Since she has become a widow she leads a retired life as is only
+fitting," explained Sooba, with increasing uneasiness.
+
+"A widow! then the body of my son has been found!"
+
+Sooba shifted from one foot to the other as he answered.
+
+"His body is still in the well."
+
+"Has any one seen it?"
+
+"His cap was seen and recovered from the place where it hung about a
+foot above the surface of the water."
+
+"And on the strength of that you have performed the widow rites.  It
+appears to me that you have acted with unwarrantable harshness towards
+my son and his wife.  There would have been time for the ceremonies
+when my son's body was found."
+
+"He is dead!  I assure you he is dead!" protested Sooba.  "It is the
+firm conviction of other members of the family whom I have consulted
+that he is dead."
+
+"And if it be true, is it for the wife of the younger brother to strike
+the bangles off the arm of the heir's widow?  But I tell you she is no
+widow!  My boy is alive; he had too much spirit to stay where he was
+ill-treated; and too much courage to drown himself.  You were wrong to
+beat him as you did."
+
+"It was with your consent."
+
+"That a small punishment should be given to satisfy the swami lest he
+should curse us.  You have done more; you have gone beyond your orders.
+Where are the jewels?"
+
+"I have them in safe keeping, sister," he replied, beginning to tremble
+for the consequences.  She had it in her power to turn him and his wife
+out of the house.
+
+"After we have eaten you shall hand them over to me together with the
+moneys that have been paid in by the silk and cotton merchants."
+
+She dismissed him as the household was waiting for dinner.  The
+men--who were served first--could not begin to eat until the
+representative of the family had offered the daily oblation to the
+deity and said grace.
+
+When the meal was over Gunga summoned Sooba giving him no time for the
+after-dinner nap claimed by the more important members of the family.
+
+"Let him bring the jewels," she said to his wife.  "Come yourself and
+listen to what I have to say.  It concerns you both."
+
+Sooba had an unhappy half-hour with his sister-in-law.  He found
+himself called upon to account not only for the jewels and every rupee
+paid in but also for every anna paid out, the amount of rice taken from
+the granaries, the curry stuffs that had been used, the produce of the
+dairy and garden.
+
+The wardrobes and clothes' chests were emptied, the contents displayed
+and missing sarees accounted for.  The contents of the strong box
+containing the family jewels was examined, even to the numbering of the
+loose gems and pearls that formed part of the wealth belonging to
+Pantulu.
+
+It was hard to be made to disgorge when he had looked upon the coveted
+treasure as his already; but Sooba and his wife had no alternative.
+Dorama's jewels were handed over down to the smallest silver toe-ring.
+Gunga examined them critically, separating several of the choicest and
+most valuable from the rest.  They were not put back in the strong box,
+but were placed in another and more portable jewel case.  This she
+locked, and slipped the key on her own bunch which was tied to her
+betel-bag.
+
+"Are you taking the jewels away with you?" asked Sooba.
+
+"They are required at the silk farm," she replied shortly.
+
+"For yourself or for the manager's wife?"
+
+"Neither; they are to be worn at a wedding I am arranging.  They will
+adorn the bride."
+
+"Is she a relative that you honour her thus?"
+
+"She will be when the ceremonies are completed.  I am making a second
+marriage for my husband, since our son is lost to us, and I am not
+likely to give him another.  The girl is young and strong and will bear
+us many sons."
+
+Sooba's jaw dropped in astonished consternation and speech failed him.
+His wife was more ready with her tongue.
+
+"It is an excellent plan, sister; one that I had thought of adopting
+myself since the gods have not blessed me with children.  Is your
+husband strong and well enough to play his part?"
+
+"You should see him!  He is like a young man! you would think the years
+had gone backwards instead of forwards, he is so full of strength and
+energy."  Gunga handled the remaining jewels tenderly as she put them
+back in the strong box.  "Although the girl's people are not poor, her
+jewels are nothing compared with these that belonged to my son's wife.
+This gold ornament"--she picked up the richly embossed disc that
+Sooba's wife had envied and already appropriated--"will sit well on her
+hair.  It used to look so well on Dorama's head."
+
+"When is the wedding to be?" asked Sooba, his heart sinking within him
+as he contemplated the future.
+
+"In three days' time.  After the wedding I shall return here to live,
+and my little sister will remain on the silk farm under the care of the
+manager's wife.  I shall go over frequently to see them, and when the
+manager comes back six months hence, my husband and his wife will join
+us here.  Now I wish to see Dorama, and to know why she did not come to
+the kitchen for her food when the rest of the family had dinner."
+
+Some of the women were sent in search, but the widow could nowhere be
+found.  The basin of curry and rice put aside for her was untouched.
+One of them recalled the fact that she went frequently to the room
+formerly occupied by her husband.  Gunga rose to her feet.
+
+"I will go there myself; you need not follow; I wish to see her alone."
+
+Her word was law and they dared not disobey.  She passed through the
+garden and out into the compound taking the path by which the men had
+gone on that dreadful night with their evil intent.  To her surprise
+she heard a voice murmuring in the room.  Unseen by the busy
+match-maker she watched the child at her play.  Then she entered and
+the girl started violently as though she had been discovered in some
+act of flagrant wickedness, as, indeed, from a Hindu point of view was
+the case; for was she not enjoying a few hours of perfect happiness,
+and upsetting the Hindu notion that widows have no right to be happy.
+
+"Most excellent lady, I was brought here by my brother and told to stop
+till he returns," she said, fearing blame and perhaps punishment for
+trespassing where widows were unwelcome.
+
+"You are doing no harm, child.  Your brother is Bopaul, is he not?"
+
+"No one ever had such a good brother!  To-day he is being good to the
+poor unhappy Dorama; but I am forbidden to say anything about it; so if
+your excellency would know what he is doing you must wait till he
+returns."
+
+"How soon will that be?"
+
+"Perhaps in another hour.  They had to walk until they found the
+carriage that was to take Dorama away."
+
+"Where was she going?"
+
+"Ah, that I must not tell; but think how pleased her husband will be
+when he sees her!"
+
+"Is he waiting on the road?"
+
+"I think not, most honourable lady, because he is safe somewhere with
+the missionary; but where I may not say."
+
+"Do you know the place?"
+
+"No, excellent mother, not yet.  My brother will tell me this evening
+when he comes back."
+
+"He is coming here?"
+
+"To take me home.  I hope he will be in before it is dark.  I should
+not like to stay in this ugly little room at night.  This was the place
+where they beat Ananda.  The market women say that he was nearly
+killed; and that his new God must have come Himself and carried him
+away; he was hurt so that he could not stand.  Ah, bah, that Sooba Iyer
+is a bad man, the market women say!  I love listening to the market
+news.  When I am strong and big I shall ask them to let me go as a
+coolie to carry one of the baskets.  Then I shall hear of all the
+deaths and weddings and births and beatings and accidents and scoldings
+and widowings."
+
+"Go on with your play, child.  I will see your brother when he comes
+for you," said Gunga.
+
+Mayita had another hour to wait before she heard his call.  As she came
+out of the yard she caught sight of the tall stern woman going across
+the compound to meet him.  She stopped at the entrance till the
+interview was over, the timidity of the widow and her fear of giving
+offence holding her back.
+
+"I want to ask you if you know anything of my son," said Gunga going
+straight to the point.
+
+"He is staying with Mr. Alderbury, the English missionary."
+
+"And his wife?"
+
+"She has joined him with my assistance.  After all that has happened I
+felt that I must lend her the help of a friend, whether I gave offence
+to your honourable husband or not."
+
+"It will not be regarded as an offence.  Why did they leave home in
+this secret manner?"
+
+"Can you ask, most excellent lady?  The treatment they both received
+from their uncle was sufficient to drive them to the other end of the
+earth.  I wonder they lived through it."
+
+Gunga's lips closed tightly, and her eye burned with the fire of the
+tiger who sees her cubs ill-treated.  There was a pause and she asked:
+
+"Is he well?"
+
+"He has nearly recovered from his injuries."
+
+"I want to see him!"
+
+The unpremeditated words burst from her lips with passionate longing.
+It was the cry of the mother whose maternal love could not be stifled
+nor killed by anger.  Her instinct thrust down every barrier, and she
+cried aloud for her offspring.  The lonely woman was giving up her
+marital rights to another for the sake of her husband's religious
+prejudices that she respected and believed in thoroughly.  She devoutly
+hoped that a son would be born to him who might bring comfort and
+reassurance concerning the future.  Her act of renunciation made a
+heavy demand upon her.  She had already seen how the man's eyes had
+turned with desire towards the younger woman in whom lay so much
+promise; and although she was still mistress of his house, their unity
+was ruptured for ever.  The Hindu woman understands polygamy and, as in
+Gunga's case, sees the urgent necessity for it; but she is not
+indifferent.  She tolerates it as unavoidable; at the bottom of her
+heart she hates and loathes it.  This introduction of a second mate is
+at the bottom of all sorts of evil in the zenana, of jealousy and
+hatred on the part of the superseded; of arrogance and tyranny on the
+part of the interloper.
+
+Gunga was battling with jealousy even though she herself had arranged
+what was to take place; and she turned to her son with a longing that
+would take no denial, renegade and apostate though he was to his family
+and religion.
+
+"Tell me where he is so that I may go to him!  After all, he is still
+my son, my only child, my dearly loved boy!" she pleaded.
+
+Bopaul recognised the maternal cry and he answered sympathetically.
+
+"A letter addressed to the mission station will always find him.  Let
+me remind you, honourable lady, that it is not Ananda who has created
+this breach between his parents and himself.  It was always his hope
+that his father would continue to treat him as a son; that some way
+might be found by which the ties of blood might be maintained without
+complete banishment from home.  You have so acted that any compromise
+was impossible.  He has done well in removing himself out of reach of
+injury and insult; and in forsaking a country that gives him no
+protection as a citizen."
+
+Gunga's proud head drooped.
+
+"Perhaps we were too hard on the boy.  If we had had more time for
+thought it might have been different," she said, in a broken voice.
+
+"Shall I give him a message when I write?" asked Bopaul whose curious,
+modern philanthropy made him ready and almost anxious to heal the
+breach.
+
+"Ah, do, my son!" replied Gunga, with sudden hope.  "Tell him that I
+will come soon and talk to him at the mission house.  I have so much to
+say.  There is work for him at Bombay.  Tell him that though he is lost
+to his father, to his religion, to the State--though he is an outcaste
+and an exile, his mother remains his mother still.  Nothing, nothing
+that gods or men may devise, can ever deprive a woman of the rights of
+motherhood when once a child is born to her!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+Mrs. Hulver was busy cleaning and folding an old uniform.  The door of
+her room was closed and locked whilst she was thus occupied.  With many
+sighs she passed the brush over the well-worn cloth and smoothed out
+the creases.
+
+"An iron would do it good; but it must go for the present as it is.  It
+won't do for the uniform to be seen just now.  To think what the master
+would say if he knew that the poor young man was in the house all the
+time!  He would give me a month's notice as sure as my name is Maria
+Hulver!  But there, as William used to say"--the William in her mind
+was the wearer of the uniform in the old days--"'What the eye doesn't
+see, the heart doesn't grieve for.'  God forgive me for loading up
+young William's shoulders with that canteen racket, and him as innocent
+as a new-born babe!  But as William--that was my third--used to say:
+'If the dhoby donkey were shown half the load that was meant for its
+back, it would die of terror.'  Young William shall never know if I can
+help it that he was the hero of a canteen fight."
+
+She wrapped the uniform in an old linen towel, tucking in bits of
+camphor on every side, and laid the relic of by-gone days in the bottom
+drawer of her wardrobe.  A knock at the door startled her.  She closed
+the drawer hastily, put away the brush and went to see who called her.
+
+"Miss Eola!  Come in, miss.  Were you wanting to speak to me?"
+
+It was the day after Alderbury's departure.  The car had come back
+bringing a letter for Eola, the first she had received since his love
+had been declared.  She read it in the privacy of her room, lingering
+over the closely-written sheets as Mrs. Hulver had lingered over the
+folding and putting away of the uniform that had belonged to the father
+of her boy.
+
+The housekeeper was still in ignorance of what had passed between Eola
+and the guest.  Her mind had been too full of anxiety over Ananda's
+welfare to admit of any curiosity concerning the behaviour of other
+people.  She knew that she ran a risk in extending the helping hand to
+the persecuted 'vert; but she had carried it through without faltering.
+
+Without any explanations she had ordered his luggage to be placed in
+the missionary's cart and told the driver that he was to start that
+evening, a command that was gladly obeyed.
+
+While the dinner was still proceeding Mrs. Hulver and her
+scarlet-coated companion left the house presumably for a walk.  A jutka
+was picked up outside, and directed to take the same road as that
+followed by the cart.  The pony went much faster than the slowly moving
+cattle, and soon overtook and passed them.
+
+Half an hour later the missionary's servant was roused, and to his
+intense astonishment confronted by the Principal's housekeeper.  By her
+side stood a native gentleman dressed in European clothes and wearing a
+neat turban.  As Alderbury's servant had never seen Ananda he did not
+recognise Mrs. Hulver's companion.
+
+"You will carry on this friend of mine to the mission station," she
+said, "and you will tell the master when you see him that I gave you
+the order."
+
+The servants all understood the varied modulations of her voice.  In
+this case it was comprehended, though not expressed, that a breach of
+her confidence would be resented, and bring the individual into her
+black books.  At the same time there was a chink of silver that
+purchased silence and secured obedience.  Ananda took Alderbury's place
+on the mattress.  The servant seated himself near the driver and the
+cart started on its homeward journey.  By daylight it should have
+crossed the border and be safe in British territory; and by nine
+o'clock it should be home.  As no warning had been given to Ananda's
+family it was not likely that he would be pursued or discovered; and
+Mrs. Hulver saw the car swallowed up in the darkness of the night with
+a sigh of relief.
+
+She walked back to the place where she had directed the jutka to wait
+for her, carrying the uniform, which had been exchanged under cover of
+the darkness for the tweed suit, hidden under her cloak.  She was back
+at the college house before eleven.
+
+The following day, on which she was supposed to be seeing young William
+off by the morning mail was spent at the house of a Eurasian friend in
+the town.  Eola, suspecting nothing and occupied with her own affairs,
+asked no questions; and it was not till the morning after Alderbury's
+departure that she and Mrs. Hulver met.
+
+The housekeeper accompanied by Ramachetty and the cook presented
+herself for the usual ritual of ordering dinner.  During the
+housekeeping business Mrs. Hulver confined herself rigidly to the
+subject of the menu.  She dared not trust herself to speak of anything
+else lest her tongue should slip and betray her.  The secret must be
+kept at all costs from Dr. Wenaston and from the people in the town.
+The sweeper might be trusted.  He had been a faithful friend all along,
+and one day his fidelity would be rewarded by Ananda.  Of that she was
+sure, although the man did not look for any recompense.  All that he
+had done had been the result of his love for the young master he had
+known and served in time past.  The change of faith on the part of
+Ananda did not affect him.  He knew nothing of the intricate
+ceremonialism of the caste Hindus.  His religion was simple animism,
+the propitiation of the power of evil.  If he had had any opinion to
+offer, it would have been that his master had come under the influence
+of an evil spirit, and would do well to make an offering of blood.
+Mrs. Hulver considered that the rest of the servants might also be
+trusted.  The real identity of young William had never been known to
+them, and he remained Mrs. Hulver's sick son to the end.
+
+Eola intended making her confession after the servants were dismissed;
+but Mrs. Hulver departed quickly in their wake and defeated her
+purpose.  She determined not to put it off and went to the
+housekeeper's room to inform her of the engagement without further
+delay.
+
+With the packing away of the uniform Mrs. Hulver drew a breath of
+relief.  Anxiety was at an end, a load off her mind.
+
+"Take a chair, miss.  The room is still untidy from having young
+William here; but the sweeper and I will soon get it straight when she
+comes back from her dinner."
+
+"It looks quite neat," said Eola inconsequently; she was wondering how
+she was to open the subject uppermost in her mind.  "Your son got away
+all safe yesterday morning, I suppose."
+
+"Yes, miss!"  Mrs. Hulver would not trust herself to more than the
+simple affirmative.
+
+"I am afraid you are rather tired after all the nursing you have had."
+
+"I took a good rest yesterday.  After young William left I went to see
+my first husband's cousin, Mrs. de Silva.  She was in a fine way about
+her girl who has refused to marry the man chosen for her.  The silly
+child--she's only sixteen--has set her heart on a young Englishman who
+is out of employment.  I did my best to cheer her up and to argue with
+the girl."
+
+"You are always doing something for others.  You must think of yourself
+now and rest."
+
+"I'm happier when I am doing for somebody else, miss.  As William--that
+was my second--used to say: 'You'll find happiness for yourself when
+you're hunting it for others.'"
+
+"That's quite true."
+
+There was a pause.  Mrs. Hulver received a sudden shock.  Her eyes had
+fallen on her husband's helmet which was lying on the camp cot.  She
+had forgotten to put it away.  Eola saw it and observed:
+
+"Your son has forgotten his helmet, surely."
+
+"That isn't my son's, miss!  It belonged to his father.  I got it out
+to show him the difference the authorities have made in the pattern.
+They are always changing, and it must cost the government something
+first and last.  I have kept that old helmet as a momentum of my boy's
+father."
+
+"I suppose out of all the three you liked him best."
+
+"Well, miss, he was my choice.  My first was my mother's choice, and my
+third chose me.  You see, William, my second, left me with something
+else besides his helmet and that was young William."
+
+Eola's attention was wandering and Mrs. Hulver was pleased to see that
+the helmet had not excited her curiosity.
+
+"I want to tell you something; it is about Mr. Ananda," said Eola.
+
+Mrs. Hulver started, but was not to be caught off her guard.
+
+"To tell you the truth, miss; I am getting rather tired of Mr. Ananda's
+name.  I dare say he has got safely away from Chirapore by this time if
+he isn't down the well.  As William--that was my third--said when the
+barrack sweeper led him home from the canteen: 'Misfortune will find
+you queer friends in queer places.'  If Mr. Ananda is still alive he
+has probably found some friend, queer or otherwise, to help him."
+
+"You are right.  When Mr. Alderbury reached home Mr. Ananda met him at
+the door."
+
+"Lor, miss! you take my breath away!" exclaimed Mrs. Hulver expressing
+discreet astonishment.
+
+"Like your husband in his difficulty, it was the sweeper who proved his
+friend.  He took him to some hiding place, and threw his cap down the
+well to deceive his people and put them off the scent.  When the
+excitement of his mysterious disappearance was over, the man contrived
+to smuggle him out of the State of Chirakul into British territory,
+where he is quite safe.  At the mission house another surprise awaited
+Mr. Ananda.  His wife managed to escape and find her way to Mr.
+Alderbury's station.  I thought you would be pleased to hear the news,"
+concluded Eola with reproach in her voice.
+
+"So I am, miss," was the warm response.  "I am very glad to know that
+he is safe.  He wasn't safe from the spite of wicked men as long as he
+remained in Chirapore.  His only hiding place was the sweeper's house
+where no man of caste would venture.  As William--that was my
+first--used to say: 'A rat that has but one hole is soon caught.'  Mr.
+Ananda will need no hiding place as long as he stays with Mr.
+Alderbury."
+
+"I have some more news for you, Mrs. Hulver.  Mr. Alderbury was so much
+impressed by what you said about a house being no home without a woman
+in it, that he has asked me to make a home for him of his house--and I
+have consented."
+
+"There, now, if I haven't gone and made a mess of it after all!"
+exclaimed Mrs. Hulver, more than a little disturbed.  "As William--that
+was my second--used to say: 'An ounce of sense is worth a pound of wit;
+better slip with the foot than the tongue.'  To think that my foolish
+tongue which must need sharpen itself at his expense should have put it
+into his head to ask you to do that!  I should never be reconciled to
+your marrying a missionary, miss; not if I lived to be a hundred!"
+
+"Don't worry about it; it's all right; I am not going to marry a
+missionary," said Eola.
+
+"Not marry him! miss! whatever do you mean?" cried Mrs. Hulver in
+horror.  "You can't keep house for a man except as his housekeeper or
+his wife--that is to say, if you have right-minded principles.  As
+William--that was my second--used to say: 'Bad as the best may be; it
+is better to be poisoned in your blood than in your principles.'"
+
+Eola reassured her.  "It is quite all right, I am going to marry him,
+and you are going to take care of the doctor for me."
+
+"Then I don't understand what you mean, miss, about not marrying a
+missionary," said Mrs. Hulver, completely puzzled.
+
+"Mr. Alderbury is giving up missionary work.  He has been offered a
+bishopric."
+
+"And him with those legs!"
+
+"The legs don't matter if they belong to the right sort of man, as is
+the case here," said Eola, prepared to do battle for her lover.
+
+"Mr. Alderbury, my Lord Bishop!  I can't get over it; it is so
+surprising!"
+
+"You haven't congratulated me and wished me good luck," Eola remarked
+in an aggrieved voice, which she knew would win over her faithful
+housekeeper.
+
+"I'm sure I beg your pardon.  I congratulate you with all my heart.
+Fancy you marrying a bishop!  Who would have thought it!  It's no more
+than you deserve all the same.  Dear me!  How strangely things turn
+out! you taking a missionary and finding yourself marrying a bishop!
+and Mr. Ananda coming to life again and finding his wife a widow! and
+she escaping all through losing her husband and being widowed!  As
+William--that was my third--said when he fell into a prickly pear bush
+and just escaped being seen the worse for liquor by the colonel:
+'Maria, me dear,'--he was such a gentleman in his speech, he
+was!--'Maria, me dear!  You never know your luck.'"
+
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.
+
+
+
+
+
+  BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR
+
+
+  HISTORY OF FORT ST. GEORGE, MADRAS
+  ON THE COROMANDEL COAST
+  THE NAUTCH GIRL
+  THE FOREST OFFICER
+  A MIXED MARRIAGE
+  THE SANYASI
+  DILYS
+  CASTE AND CREED
+  THE TEA-PLANTER
+  THE INEVITABLE LAW
+  DARK CORNERS
+  THE UNLUCKY MARK
+  SACRIFICE
+  THE RAJAH
+  THE MALABAR MAGICIAN
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Outcaste, by F. E. Penny
+
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diff --git a/38195-8.zip b/38195-8.zip
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+<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN">
+<HTML>
+<HEAD>
+
+<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1">
+
+<TITLE>
+The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Outcaste, by F. E. Penny
+</TITLE>
+
+<STYLE TYPE="text/css">
+BODY { color: Black;
+       background: White;
+       margin-right: 10%;
+       margin-left: 10%;
+       font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;
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+
+P.noindent {text-indent: 0% }
+
+P.t1 {text-indent: 0% ;
+      font-size: 200%;
+      text-align: center }
+
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+      font-size: 150%;
+      text-align: center }
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+</HEAD>
+
+<BODY>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Outcaste, by F. E. Penny
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Outcaste
+
+Author: F. E. Penny
+
+Release Date: December 10, 2011 [EBook #38195]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OUTCASTE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="img-cover"></A>
+<CENTER>
+<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-cover.jpg" ALT="Cover art" BORDER="">
+</CENTER>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="t1">
+THE OUTCASTE
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="t3">
+BY
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="t2">
+F. E. PENNY
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="t4">
+AUTHOR OF
+<BR>
+"THE SANYASI," "THE RAJAH," "THE MALABAR MAGICIAN," ETC.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="t4">
+SPECIAL EDITION
+<BR>
+For sale only in India and the British Colonies
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="t3">
+LONDON
+<BR>
+CHATTO &amp; WINDUS
+<BR>
+1912
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="t4">
+[<I>The Portrait on the Cover is reproduced from a Miniature by G. I.
+Penny</I>]
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="t4">
+<I>All rights reserved</I>
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="t3">
+DEDICATED
+<BR>
+TO THE
+<BR>
+STUDENTS OF HINDU THEOLOGY AND ETHICS
+<BR>
+WHOSE WRITINGS
+<BR>
+HAVE ASSISTED ME TO TELL
+<BR>
+THIS STORY
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="t3">
+<I>The scene is laid in the Native State of Chirakul.</I>
+</P>
+
+<BR>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%">
+CHIRAPORE &nbsp;. . . . . . Chief Town of Chirakul.
+<BR>
+ANANDA&nbsp;. . . . . . . . . A Convert to Christianity.
+<BR>
+BOPAUL&nbsp;. . . . . . . . . . Friend of Ananda, and of the same Caste.
+<BR>
+COOMARA &nbsp;. . . . . . . Married to Bopaul's Sister.
+<BR>
+DR. WENASTON . . . Principal of the Maharajah's College at Chirapore.
+<BR>
+EOLA WENASTON  . His Sister.
+<BR>
+PROFESSOR TWYFORD
+<BR>
+MRS. HULVER  . . . . . Housekeeper to Dr. Wenaston.
+<BR>
+DORAMA&nbsp;. . . . . . . . . Ananda's Wife.
+<BR>
+PANTULU &nbsp;. . . . . . . . His Father.
+<BR>
+GUNGA &nbsp;. . . . . . . . . . His Mother.
+<BR>
+SOOBA &nbsp;. . . . . . . . . . His Uncle.
+<BR>
+MAYITA&nbsp;&nbsp;. . . . . . . . . Coomara's Widow.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap01"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t1">
+THE OUTCASTE
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER I
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The aviation ground was thronged with spectators.  Eyes were turned
+skywards and men held their breath.  Women uttered ejaculations, drawn
+unconsciously from them in their intense excitement.  The wind blew
+gustily with an upward sweep that sent dead leaves and fragments of
+paper into the air.  A furious blast heralding the coming storm seized
+one of the aviators as he was in the act of turning.  It seemed to
+shake him with a living enmity.  Under the violent motion the tips of
+the delicate wings of his machine snapped.  He recognised the
+seriousness of the accident; and the breathless multitude watched his
+efforts to avoid impending catastrophe.  As well might the dying bird,
+winged by the October sportsman, try to sustain its arrested flight.
+The machine ceased its horizontal movement, folded its broken planes
+about its struggling guide, and dropped almost vertically to the ground.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Some, fascinated by the horror of it all, stared at the falling wreck.
+Others withdrew their gaze, but could not shut their ears to the thud
+and crash in which the earthly life of a human being came to an abrupt
+end.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The hush was followed by a murmur as emotion found expression in speech
+and exclamation.  Many of the women shed tears; some screamed; a few
+fainted.  Ten minutes later there was a general stir as the sightseers,
+sick at heart, began to depart.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola Wenaston beckoned to her brother, who stood at a little distance
+talking to a couple of men.  He approached the motor car into which she
+had just stepped.  Before she could speak he hastened to reassure her,
+anticipating the question that was on the lips of all.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's all right; the man is not dead.  Of course he has had a shock,
+falling from such a height, and the machine is smashed to atoms.  You
+need not be nervous&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm not nervous.  It was a horrid sight, but I'm not troubled with
+nerves.  The man must be dead after such a fall."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, no one can say how&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She interrupted him with a touch of impatience born of anxiety.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would you mind going home by train?  Mrs. Greenford is thoroughly
+unhinged.  She is in that tent over there crying her heart out, and she
+ought to be taken away at once."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She doesn't know him, does she?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, slightly.  It appears that he dined with her and her husband last
+night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you wish to do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Drive her home at once; but it leaves you to go by rail.  You won't
+mind giving her your seat in the motor?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She did not doubt for a moment that he would object.  The car was a new
+purchase made by Wenaston on his arrival in England on furlough.  He
+intended to take it back to India on his return to his work.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not a bit," he replied readily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't ask Miss Stuart to give up her place in the car."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course not; I'll join Ananda and his friends.  They are travelling
+up by the special leaving in about an hour's time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You need not journey in their company.  Now-a-days, when our blood is
+curdled by assassinations&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He interrupted her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are all right&mdash;three of the nicest fellows I know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She made a little grimace, not noticing that a Hindu, faultlessly
+frock-coated and top-hatted, had approached on the other side of the
+motor, and was waiting for an opportunity to speak, waiting with the
+courtesy of good breeding that happily is not the monopoly of the
+European.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Still, one cannot forget&mdash;&mdash;" she mentioned the name of a well-known
+public man who had been done to death by an Oriental fanatic.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The blood rushed to the temples of the Hindu.  He raised his hat as he
+said quietly&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You must not suppose that we are all assassins, Miss Wenaston, any
+more than I may suppose you English to be all murderers like&mdash;&mdash;" and
+he in his turn named a notorious criminal who had recently been
+convicted of a murder perpetrated under circumstances of peculiar
+cruelty.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course not!  I beg your pardon, Mr. Ananda.  I ought not to have
+said it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In her contrition she turned and held out her hand.  She felt the
+nervous close grip, momentary as it was, and the friendliness of the
+Englishwoman warmed towards the exile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My brother proposes to travel home with you by rail and give his seat
+in the motor to Mrs. Greenford, who is upset by the accident.  Have you
+heard how the aviator is?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid from all accounts he is in a bad way.  The committee has
+decided to stop the competitions for to-day.  Visitors ought to have no
+objection."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is sad to have an ending like this!"  She turned to Wenaston.
+"Please go and find Mrs. Greenford; Miss Stuart is with her.  Bring
+them both here.  Tell them I am in a hurry to start.  I should like to
+get Mrs. Greenford away before she hears worse news.  Oh!  I wish he
+hadn't attempted that last flight!  It was quite unnecessary, and not
+on the programme&mdash;a mere show to please the people."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda stood by the motor whilst Wenaston went to do his sister's
+bidding.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You take these things too seriously, Miss Wenaston.  If you were a
+fatalist you would believe that it was preordained by the gods; and you
+would be resigned.  It is of no use to fight against fate.  He had to
+meet it whether he flew upon an aeroplane or whether he remained in his
+own house.  We are taught that we cannot escape the fulfilment of our
+destiny."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She looked at him, her attention suddenly rivetted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are taught, you say; but do you believe your teacher in these days
+of greater enlightenment?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A reply was not immediately forthcoming.  Perhaps he would have left
+the question unanswered if she had not uttered an interrogatory,
+"Well?" in a tone that held something more than mere curiosity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am trying to retain my belief in all that my guru instilled into my
+mind before I left India."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You find it hard to keep the old faith unshaken?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not exactly.  The difficulty is to graft the new teaching on the old.
+We of the advanced school cannot stand still; we must progress."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And then comes the difficulty of putting new wine into old bottles."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She glanced in the direction of the tent, and he knew that he had lost
+half her attention.  Wenaston was visible in the distance with Mrs.
+Greenford and Miss Stuart.  The sympathy that was so marked a
+characteristic in Eola had tempted the Hindu to say more than was his
+wont.  It was deflected from himself and turned towards the unnerved
+woman, whom she was charitably befriending.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Greenford was allowed no time to plunge into fresh tears and
+regrets.  She was prevailed upon to enter the car without delay.
+Wenaston gave his orders to the chauffeur and the motor glided from the
+field.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is too early in the day to make gala shows of this aviation
+business.  An accident such as has just happened upsets the women with
+their highly strung nerves.  Even men feel it to be a bit of a shock,"
+remarked Wenaston, as he glanced round at the white faces of the
+spectators.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Anyway, women should not be present where there is a likelihood of
+accidents," replied Ananda.  "It seems to me that you Englishmen go to
+the opposite extreme from us.  We shut up women and overdo the purdah
+business.  You give them too much liberty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My dear fellow!  They take it without asking our permission!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They were slowly moving towards the exit.  There was no need of haste
+as their train was not due to start for another half-hour, and the
+station was but ten minutes' walk.  Before Ananda could reply they were
+joined by two more Hindus.  In appearance these men were like Ananda,
+although there was no blood relationship between them.  Their
+complexions were of the wheaten tint that frequently goes with high
+caste and good birth.  They were equally well dressed in the latest
+English fashion, without extravagance or display.  To Wenaston they
+were well known, and he greeted them as old acquaintances.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The show is at an end, Dr. Wenaston.  It is reported that the poor
+fellow is dead.  It only remains for us to go back to town," said one
+who was called Bopaul by his friends.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sorry it has ended fatally.  I suppose every new scientific
+venture must have its victims.  The claims of aviation will be every
+whit as heavy as were the claims of steam and electricity," responded
+Wenaston.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The death dues of the gods!" murmured the other, known as Coomara.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul laughed lightly but Ananda turned a pair of serious eyes upon
+Wenaston.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't believe that the higher power ruling our destinies requires
+to be propitiated by a holocaust of victims, do you?" he asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly not.  Accidents occur through the imperfection of machines;
+and with each accident it is only natural that an important step is
+made towards a more perfect knowledge."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Exactly so," rejoined Coomara, eagerly.  "In return for a life, the
+Fountain of all knowledge in his justice and rectitude gives knowledge."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Life is not demanded in exchange or in payment for knowledge,"
+objected Wenaston.  "Knowledge might be acquired without loss of life
+if men were more careful and less rash.  The death of the experimenter
+is due to his own ignorance, to his rashness, or to the imperfection of
+the machine in its inception."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You do not believe that it is the direct act of God?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston did not reply.  They were threading their way through the
+crowd that had gathered near the exit of the field, and conversation
+was not easy.  On all sides they heard comments upon the accident.
+Regrets were expressed freely that the new cult had lost one of its
+cleverest pioneers.  His death&mdash;by this time it was known that the
+fallen aviator had breathed his last even as they carried him from the
+field&mdash;his death was sad from every point of view.  He was a good, a
+thoroughly good fellow; clever beyond most men.  Married? no; but there
+was a girl&mdash;he was living at home with his people, and he was going to
+be married shortly.  Money?  Oh yes, plenty, or he could not have
+experimented as he did.  And the cause of the accident?  Ignorance of
+air currents and the power of the wind.  His wings were broken, and
+there was no hope from the very first of salvation.  Although he
+struggled with the machine he must have been aware that he had no
+chance of escape.  The next thing to invent must be some life-saving
+apparatus.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Among their acquaintances the three Hindus were spoken of as A, B, and
+C; or as Ananda, Bopaul, and Coomara.  In addition to these names they
+possessed others unfamiliar to the English ear and difficult of
+pronunciation.  The men were of good birth and high caste; they
+belonged to a native State south of Poona, called Chirakul, the chief
+town being Chirapore.  Under pressure of modern times the
+parents&mdash;people of substance and wealth&mdash;had sent their sons to Poona
+and Bombay to be educated.  Later on, arrangements were made for a
+visit to England.  It was due to the friendly offices of Wenaston that
+they entered the house of Dr. Twyford, professor of oriental languages.
+Their future was assured without the necessity of taking up any of the
+professions.  It was the intention of their parents to make homes for
+them under the ancestral roof, where they would lead the life of the
+leisured Hindu landowner.  If any occupation were adopted it would be
+of a political nature&mdash;some appointment of importance and trust under
+the Maharajah's Government.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Although the three men were alike in dress, complexion and features,
+and belonged to the same caste, they were very dissimilar in character
+and temperament.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda was gentle and speculative.  His nerves were finely strung, and
+he shrank like a woman from physical pain and discomfort, and from
+anything that was of a rough and discordant nature.  The timidity of
+the Hindu peeped out on various occasions, a timidity that was not so
+much cowardice as an inbred loathing of coarseness and brutality.  The
+strong religious instinct, which seems to bring the Asiatic close to
+his strangely conceived deities in worship and propitiation, underlaid
+all his actions.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In early youth he had been married to the sister of his friend Coomara.
+The marriage had been consummated, and there was a child, a son four
+years of age; and during his absence mother and son found a happy home
+with his parents.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul was a fair specimen of the product of modern education.
+Untainted with disloyalty towards the ruling power, he was never likely
+to become a disciple of disaffection, and join with ambitious men of
+lower caste.  Aristocratic to his finger-tips, he believed in his
+Prince, and hoped to find a place on his council at some time in the
+future.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+By nature he was sunny and buoyant, taking life as he found it.  Eager
+to listen to the latest theories and ready to argue, he nevertheless
+proved elusive and disappointing to the serious propagandist.
+Tolerant, without being weak, courteous and even-tempered, he seemed to
+be flexible; but when it came to uprooting inherited beliefs, he proved
+immovable.  The casual observer accused him of flippancy and
+infidelity.  His host and guardian, Professor Twyford, knew better.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Bopaul is an extraordinary fellow," he used to say.  "I introduce him
+to all the latest theories, to all the facts most recently revealed by
+science; he receives them with intelligence and avidity, not to
+exchange new lamps for old, but to graft them on to the old Hindu
+stock.  I can understand when I look at Bopaul the wonderful
+receptivity of the Hindu nature.  It has preserved the caste system for
+the last three thousand years, a unique survival that has no equal in
+the history of the world.  The Hindus absorb and orientalise theories
+that ought to deal their social and religious system a death blow.  I
+can see Bopaul fitting the latest and most revolutionary ideas into
+niches in his mind without permitting any conflict with the tenets of
+his ancient faith.  He is a very interesting character."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Coomara was unlike either of his companions.  He held to the letter of
+his faith; listened courteously but without interest to modern
+teaching; wherever it clashed with the teaching of the Vedas, he
+rejected it as being incompatible, and therefore useless to himself.
+He refused to discuss the subject of religious differences.  It was
+waste of time if nothing else.  When he first fell under the influence
+of the professor he showed a disinclination to speak on religion at
+all.  Gradually he gained confidence as he discovered that Twyford had
+no design of converting him to the Christian faith, and became more
+communicative.  Somewhat to his astonishment he learned that the
+Englishman possessed a greater and more intimate knowledge of the
+sacred books of his nation than himself.  As his confidence
+strengthened, he became more communicative and less afraid of listening
+to other doctrines.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Coomara had been married to Bopaul's sister when he was ten years old;
+hence the link that bound the three men together.  The period of exile
+appointed by their respective parents was within a few months of its
+termination, and they were looking forward to their return to Chirakul,
+when the ceremonies necessary to restore their caste would be performed
+and Coomara's wedding be completed; for his marriage had been
+practically only a betrothal from the European point of view.  The
+honeymoon had yet to be spent.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap02"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER II
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The run to London by the express was to occupy an hour.  As Wenaston
+and his companions entered the station the train stood ready by the
+platform.  There was a rush for the carriages, and before they could
+make their way to a first-class smoker, every seat was occupied.  A
+number of people were in the same case as themselves, being unable to
+find places.  He stopped an official and asked when the next train
+would start.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A duplicate will be put on as soon as this has been sent off.  There
+will be plenty of room in that, sir."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A quarter of an hour later they were comfortably seated in a
+compartment which they had to themselves.  The train ran smoothly and
+conversation was possible.  The Englishman alone smoked.  To the
+high-caste Hindu the replacing of the cigar in the mouth after it has
+touched the tongue and lips is an offence against caste.  The men had
+no objection, however, to the smoke made by another.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose there was no doubt about the man being dead?" said Ananda,
+as they again discussed the event of the day.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"None whatever," replied Bopaul.  "I heard it announced by a member of
+the committee, who gave it out as a reason for stopping all further
+aviation.  The competitions were over, and the programme completed.
+The man was only marking time, so to speak, just to keep the people
+amused."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He offered to do it, I heard," remarked Ananda.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"With the wind increasing he ought not to have been allowed to take
+such a risk," said Wenaston.  "It is waste of life to hurl a man into
+eternity for such a trivial reason."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hurl a man into eternity," repeated Ananda slowly, his dreamy eyes
+fixed upon the speaker.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, well; that's just a way of talking.  I meant the life after
+death," replied Wenaston, slightly taken aback.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The life?  You don't mean re-incarnation; trans-migration is not one
+of your doctrines of belief.  You mean life elsewhere?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, in the future&mdash;in another world."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you really believe that you will have a personality&mdash;that you can
+retain the <I>ego</I> that is in you now&mdash;when you enter any other world but
+this?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope so.  We are taught by our religion that something of the sort
+is to take place.  What is your belief?" asked Wenaston, turning the
+conversation on to Hinduism.  Before Ananda could reply, Coomara,
+assertive in the stronghold of his steadfast faith, spoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We believe that after a long succession of rebirths on this earth we
+shall be absorbed in the Deity."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston did not reply, and Coomara explained thinking that the
+Englishman had not understood.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"&mdash;the great impersonal Brahma, the origin of all things, the Spirit
+that your Bible says brooded on the face of the waters when the world
+was without form."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You can't expect any positive happiness in such a state," objected
+Wenaston.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can you hope for positive happiness if you are impersonal yourself
+and forming part of an impersonal Deity?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no reason why we should not enjoy a state or condition of
+happiness if the Deity so willed it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston avoided the exceedingly difficult question of impersonality
+and exercise of the Divine will; and turned the conversation to a
+subject that was directly and humanly personal.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then if you were killed suddenly like that aviator, you would die in
+the comfortable assurance that you would join your God and become part
+of Him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Somewhat to his surprise there was no reply.  He glanced round at his
+companions under the impression that they had tired of the topic, and
+were no longer interested.  The expression of their faces did not
+confirm this idea.  Coomara's eyes were averted, but Ananda's were
+fixed upon the speaker; and in their depths lurked a shadow of fear
+that Wenaston could not fathom.  He turned to the half-closed window.
+The wind had increased and the threatened storm of rain had begun.  It
+was coming down in driving sheets that beat against the glass and
+obliterated the landscape.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We are going to have a stormy night; this is not a shower," he
+remarked, as he drew up the window and closed it completely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was Bopaul who broke the silence.  The seriousness of the subject
+had no effect on him.  On the contrary, Wenaston thought he detected an
+undercurrent of amusement in his tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Our future life depends on the circumstances surrounding death.  The
+attainment of everlasting happiness would by no means fall to our lot,
+I am afraid.  It is more likely that we individually would be overtaken
+by punishment."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have no hell to fear," replied Wenaston.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We need not fear the hell described by the teachers of your religion;
+but we have an equivalent.  It lies in our transmigration doctrine.
+Rebirth on earth as some inferior creature is our hell; existence as a
+horse, a dhoby-donkey, a rat, a loathsome pariah, a dog or a reptile
+according to the heinousness of our sins."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul smiled grimly as he caught the expression on the faces of
+Coomara and Ananda.  The latter could not conceal his horror at the
+contemplation of an existence in a lower birth, where pain and
+servitude, he believed, would crush out every joy of life.  His
+sensitive nature revolted against the thought of the indignities and
+sufferings such a birth must involve.  Coomara's fatalism saved him in
+some degree from the dread that overwhelmed Ananda.  If he were
+destined to a succession of inferior births it would be impossible to
+avoid them.  The inevitable must be faced.  As well might a man try to
+draw the sun down from its place in the heavens and stop its course as
+to endeavour to upset the law of destiny.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It certainly sounds appalling," commented Wenaston.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Such a fate is as much dreaded by the orthodox Hindu as the fate
+believed by Christians to be the portion of malefactors after death,"
+said Bopaul, without hesitation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you must take care never to offend your Deity," remarked Wenaston.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Our code of offence is different from yours.  We have no decalogue.  I
+may commit murder, for instance, without offence, if I kill a pariah or
+an out-caste; but if the victim of my enmity happened to be a Brahman,
+the aspect of the deed would be utterly changed.  The sin would be
+enormous.  Nothing short of a cycle of inferior births could reinstate
+me and restore me to the position I occupy at the present time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"None of you are likely to kill a Brahman, I imagine," said Wenaston
+lightly, and with the design of dissipating a little of the solemnity
+that seemed to have settled upon Coomara and Ananda.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His well-meant efforts were unavailing.  It was evident that so serious
+a subject was not to be dismissed in a moment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There are other ways of transgressing, which, if persisted in, bring
+down upon us the curse of inferior rebirth," said Bopaul.
+"Carelessness and neglect in the performance of our religious duties.
+Manu, the law-giver, himself defines sin in clear, unmistakeable terms.
+We can transgress by neglecting to read the Vedas; by falling away from
+prescribed customs; by remissness in the performance of holy rites.  In
+addition, offences may come through using a wrong diet and omitting
+ceremonial ablutions and prayers.  In short, our sins chiefly consist
+of the breaking of our caste rules by omission or commission."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your code is simple enough if you have it all laid down by your
+law-giver.  All you have to do is to take care not to break your
+rules," observed Wenaston, ignoring a fact that he was well aware of.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The conversation had gone beyond the limits of light inconsequent talk;
+and he was watching for an opportunity to express his views courteously
+and without giving offence on caste and the absurdity of clinging to a
+belief in rigid ceremonial.  By profession he was an educationalist.
+Without any intention of proselytising it came naturally to him to
+combat beliefs that he considered to be obsolete and obstructive to
+progress of thought.  He had started the conversation simply to pass
+the time as they travelled.  He continued it that he might tilt without
+offence at that which he took to be the greatest obstacle to the
+advancement of education among the Hindus.  His words were not without
+effect.  It was Bopaul who ventured to speak out and declare what was
+in the mind of all three.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In our case we have broken the rules of caste, and broken them badly.
+The journey to England alone involves a rupture of a serious nature."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda wore an expression of anxiety that he did not attempt to hide.
+It was true.  From the Hindu point of view he was living in sin.  He
+had not only offended against the order of his caste in crossing the
+sea; but every day that was passed in the foreign country was a
+continuance of sin.  The sense of sin lay heavy on his conscience and
+at times weighed him down to the verge of nervous melancholy.  Under
+its influence he had, soon after his arrival in England, written an
+urgent letter to his father praying that he might be permitted to
+return and perform those purificatory rites which would remove the
+burden of offence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was no possibility of escape as long as he remained in a foreign
+land.  The daily ablutions were but half performed; the daily worship
+of the household gods was omitted altogether for want of the necessary
+accessories&mdash;the metal image, the rice, camphor, sugar and ghee.  In
+the matter of diet there was dire offence in the preparation of his
+food; also in the method of partaking it.  Contamination was in the
+very shadow of the crowd that jostled him in his going and coming.  His
+appeal to his father met with no response.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Resigning himself to his fate he did his best to become reconciled to
+his environment.  Occasionally he regarded the English men and women
+who surrounded him with something like envy.  They did not appear to be
+overshadowed by any gloomy apprehensions of the future.  Did they cover
+their fears and forebodings with a contentment that was assumed?  A few
+questions put to the Professor disabused his mind of that suspicion.
+They were as happy as they appeared to be, he was told.  Their creed
+reassured them and banished fear.  Christ, their great teacher, had
+given them definite promises in the Gospels that left them in no
+uncertainty.  The way was easy for any one who chose to follow it, and
+no man could complain that he was driven against his will into a state
+of sin and offence equivalent to that which troubled the exiled Hindu.
+Ananda, as he listened to the Professor, went so far as to envy the
+Christians their faith.  He had no intention of becoming a Christian,
+but there was undoubtedly relief for them in their immunity from the
+horrible dread of re-entering this world as a disgusting insect or a
+miserable beast of burden.  With eyes fixed eagerly upon Wenaston he
+listened for his comment on the situation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are the victims of circumstances over which you have no control.
+Your parents sent you to England without consulting your wishes.  Do
+you really believe that their action has caused you to sin and deprived
+you of your hope of heaven?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not our hope of the future," corrected Bopaul.  "When the offence is
+wiped out by propitiatory ceremonies we shall be restored to the favour
+of the gods."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What if you die before your return to India?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah! then we die in sin, and the dreaded rebirth cannot be avoided; but
+we hope to escape such a catastrophe and to return safely to our
+country to perform the necessary expiatory ceremonies."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is a monstrous belief!" cried Wenaston, moved in spite of himself
+as he glanced at Ananda overshadowed by fear, and at Coomara on whose
+countenance was written the hopeless resignation of the fatalist.  "It
+is incredible that a beneficent Deity can order a weary round of
+innumerable re-births in a lower instead of a higher existence, and
+condemn men to undergo this penance for deeds in which there is no evil
+intention; deeds for which they themselves are not responsible.  Even
+if you are fortunate enough at the end of unthinkable cycles of earthly
+existence to reach the limit, you can hope for nothing better than
+absorption in an impersonal Spirit.  To my mind such a fate is little
+short of annihilation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He looked at Coomara, who, with eyes averted and lips firmly closed,
+listened to these heretical suggestions unmoved.  As Wenaston spoke,
+the Hindu moved his seat, slipping into the opposite corner near the
+other window.  It was his method of showing that he did not wish to
+take any further part in the conversation.  Bopaul was eager to
+continue it, and Ananda could not resist the fascination that heresy
+had for his inquiring nature.  None of them ventured to comment on the
+opinions just enunciated; and Wenaston continued.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The thought of the extinction of the ego in man is nothing less than
+appalling.  I know that there are certain men among our Western
+students who have entertained the idea; they honestly try to persuade
+themselves that they believe in the cessation of every kind of life
+after death; but I cannot credit them with faith in such a theory.  To
+begin with, extinction is not possible to the human understanding.  The
+scientist pronounces extinction to be unknown with matter.  There is
+mutation, disintegration, but never extinction.  We have every reason
+to believe that the spiritual law follows on the same lines as the law
+of material life, although the theory is not supported by any known
+law.  There is undoubtedly implanted in every soul the belief in a
+hereafter.  Your faith leads you to expect rebirth in this world.  Mine
+is immeasurably superior.  It transcends all earthly&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His words were suddenly cut short.  The carriage rocked on its wheels
+and lurched on one side, throwing its occupants forward with great
+violence.  A moment later a steel monster crashed through the
+panelling, rending the cushions and splintering the wood.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On it came with horrible celerity, catching Coomara in the corner where
+he had just settled himself.  Before he could struggle out of its
+reach, it pinned him down with its full weight.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A cry that was stifled into a groan escaped his lips as the horrible
+buffer crushed the life out of his fragile body; Coomara the orthodox
+went to meet his fate, whatever it might be; the relentless cycle of
+inferior rebirths or the peace that passeth all understanding promised
+by a loving and merciful God.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap03"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER III
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Coomara, the orthodox, the punctilious observer of caste rule and
+ceremony, was dead.  He had died in sin before the cleansing rites
+could be performed which alone could restore the purity of his birth
+and reinstate him in his caste.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul, when he had recovered from the stunned condition into which the
+accident threw him, fell back upon the deadening doctrine of fatalism.
+It was destiny, and there was no escape.  All-powerful fate had
+ordained it; first, that they should miss the earlier train which
+reached its journey's end in safety; secondly, that Coomara should make
+a move to the opposite side of the carriage and seat himself on the
+very spot to which the buffer penetrated.  The rest of the occupants
+escaped with bruises and a few cuts from broken glass.  What else could
+have brought about the occurrence but the direct will of the gods?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+To Ananda the affair was a great shock.  His nervous system was
+completely upset.  The memory of the scene recurred again and again
+during the day and the night, depriving him of sleep and rest.  It was
+not only the loss of his friend and companion in exile that grieved
+him, but the appalling thought that the dead man had been thrust into a
+cycle of rebirths and existences wherein pain, sordidness and
+unspeakable degradation would be his lot; where beauty, joy and comfort
+would find no part.  At that very moment the troubled spirit might be
+entering upon its new life with groans and sighs in squalid
+environment.  He recalled Coomara's careful observance of everything
+that related to his religion; his dislike of all that was not strictly
+orthodox; his unwillingness even to listen to heretical teaching.  No
+man could be more innocent of intention in transgressing caste rule
+than Coomara.  With his sensitive temperament, his pride of birth and
+caste, none could feel his punishment in a greater degree.  Day and
+night Ananda brooded and sorrowed, uncomforted by the oft-repeated
+assurance of Bopaul that it was the inevitable decree of fate; and that
+what was written on a man's forehead by the gods could not be averted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Professor observed his distress and was troubled.  It affected the
+health of his guest, causing his appetite to fail.  Sleep came
+fitfully; and rest during the day seemed well-nigh impossible, as
+Ananda paced the room or wandered up and down the garden without
+purpose.  Everything in the shape of study ended.  The books were
+opened and the Professor began to lecture; but he soon discovered that
+he failed to interest Bopaul, and that Ananda's thoughts had wandered
+far from the subject in hand.  Under the impression that the mind might
+be relieved by speech, he encouraged both to talk of the trouble that
+had overtaken them.  He listened seriously and with patience as Ananda
+propounded the doctrine of transmigration.  At the conclusion the
+Professor combatted it, repeating all the arguments against the theory.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is monstrous to ascribe such cruelty to the Deity," he said.  "You
+admit that God is all-powerful.  Why cannot you give Him credit for
+beneficence?  You call Him the All-Father.  If He is a father, at least
+allow Him the attributes of a father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can He break His own rules?" cried Bopaul.  "It is laid down by
+Divine authority in the Vedas that certain consequences must follow
+certain deeds.  It is a common law of life all over the world.  You
+hang your murderer, regardless of his repentance.  Can you cleanse the
+hand of the murderer from the blood in which he has dipped it?  You
+yourself admit that as the tree falls so must it lie; the tree falls
+not by its will nor by its merit, but by fate."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Christ came into the world to give us a new law," said the Professor.
+"It is true that by the old Mosaic teaching we punish the murderer.  If
+he dies repentant, we have the promise of Christ made on the Cross that
+his sins will assuredly be forgiven.  To the crucified thief He said,
+'This day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise.'  He gave the promise
+almost with his last breath, and the man to whom it was made had sinned
+wilfully and with design.  Is it likely that they who have transgressed
+unintentionally will have to suffer with those whose hearts are
+hardened?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The thief on the Cross was a Christian already, probably, and a
+follower of your Prophet," said Bopaul.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is nothing to show that he had followed Christ, or been
+influenced by His teaching.  All that he knew was that his strange
+companion was branded with no crime.  If Christ could promise
+forgiveness&mdash;which meant immunity from punishment&mdash;to a wilful criminal
+who was neither baptized nor a follower, is it not believable that He
+could forgive and secure immunity from punishment to one like Coomara,
+whose life was humanly blameless?  Our God is all-powerful,
+all-embracing, just and loving.  Through His Son He shows mercy to all,
+regardless of race and religion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is He&mdash;is He&mdash;stronger than Brahma?" asked Ananda, in a low voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is stronger and mightier than all the gods in the Universe,"
+declared the Professor, in ringing tones that almost carried
+conviction.  Even Bopaul, the trifler, was impressed.  He rose from his
+seat and strolled to the window.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Our guru would warn us that it was sinful to listen to the claims of
+any other God but our own."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As he spoke he turned and looked at Ananda with warning in his eye.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He who refuses to listen is a coward," said Twyford.  "In these days
+of tolerance and freedom of thought, the student asks for liberty to
+probe and sound every doctrine that is presented.  He demands a wide
+field that he may view from all sides, weigh and measure the new with
+the old.  Above all, he requires to be told all that there is to be
+learned; for, without hearing the arguments for and against, no man is
+able to form a just opinion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In that case the guru ought to be here to represent and defend his
+side of the argument," said Bopaul.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have already learned all that he could teach you.  Your people
+sent you to England that you might hear more; that you might be made
+acquainted with every question that is agitating the western world of
+science, of politics and of religion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, well!" replied Bopaul, in a lighter and more careless tone.  "We
+are acquiring knowledge under you, sir; we can sift and compare without
+apostacy, I hope.  Come for a walk, Ananda.  The fresh air will clear
+away the cobwebs from our brains and make us more profitable pupils."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Professor's grey eyes, full of sympathy and friendliness, rested on
+Ananda in silence.  He did not say, "Go; the walk will do you good."
+Nor did he reach out his hand for pen or book, a sign that he was ready
+to return to his own studies.  He waited, leaning back in the revolving
+chair in front of his writing-table.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, thanks; I would rather stay in-doors.  The noise and traffic of
+the streets&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will never conquer your nerves by keeping away from the outside
+world.  It will have to be faced sooner or later; the sooner the
+better," said Bopaul, as his hand touched the door.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda turned from the speaker to the silent Professor, and gathered
+strength from his steady gaze.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't wait, Bopaul; I am not going out this morning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With a lifting of the shoulders the other left the room, shifting
+responsibility on to the Englishman.  Silence was maintained for some
+seconds after his departure.  Ananda broke it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If only I could believe that this endless cycle of rebirths need not
+be, I should be happier," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The pathetic appeal for some ray of hope went straight to Twyford's
+heart.  Pity and an intense desire to help in spiritual trouble roused
+the man, and he poured forth the doctrines of comfort that console the
+dying Christian.  It was not done with the intention of converting, but
+in the merciful desire of bringing some small consolation to the
+despairing man to whom the fear of the future made life in the present
+intolerable.  The fate that had overtaken Coomara might at any moment,
+whether at home or abroad, be Ananda's.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For more than an hour they talked, and the gloom on Ananda's face
+lightened.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is most comforting as you put it, but&mdash;it is not my creed," he
+said.  There was a pause, and he added, "I cannot change my faith."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I do not ask you to change it.  Is it not possible, however, in these
+days of advanced thought that you may be able to modify some of the
+fossilised tenets of your religion?  The spirit of reform is abroad,
+and a Hindu may become a member of the Brahmo-Somaj or the Ayra-Somaj
+without losing caste, without cutting himself adrift from his
+community, his family.  There is no hurry.  The fathers may rest
+content to think of these things.  Their sons will act."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a sound of a footstep outside.  The door opened, and Bopaul
+appeared.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lunch is ready, sir.  I am sure you must be tired talking so long.
+You should have driven that foolish Ananda out into the air and
+sunshine, instead of letting him waste your time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think that the time has been wasted," replied the Professor,
+kindly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul shot a swift glance at Ananda, but learned nothing except the
+fact that the latter was ill at ease under his scrutiny.  The lunch
+bell rang, and Ananda hurried to his room.  As he disappeared Bopaul
+said in a tone that was unusually earnest for him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sir, remember your promise to his parents.  Forgive me for reminding
+you of it.  I know his people, and what a terrible thing it will be for
+them if his faith is shaken.  He is their only son."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Believe me, I have not broken faith with them.  I have been preaching
+reform rather than conversion, although I admit that it would please me
+better if it had been the other way about.  Ananda must have led a very
+sheltered life in his youth, and this I fancy is his first great
+trouble.  He needs help, and it is difficult to give it under the
+peculiar circumstances in which I find myself."
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center">
+<SPAN STYLE="letter-spacing: 4em">*****</SPAN><BR>
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Professor was not far wrong when he said that Ananda's childhood
+had been sheltered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Born of wealthy parents and the only son, surrounded with every luxury
+that love could devise, he had been guarded from trouble of all kind.
+He, on his part, had been amenable to his parents' wishes, obedient and
+gentle, always ready to be guided.  Content to be ruled, his will power
+lay dormant, and there seemed little likelihood of it being roused into
+activity; for the desires of those whose authority he recognised never
+clashed with his own.  The life of his father, Pantulu Iyer, had been
+smooth, as is the case with many men of high caste families.  The life
+of the son promised to be the same.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At the age of twelve he was married to Coomara's sister, three years
+his junior.  When he was seventeen the marriage was consummated, and
+the girl took up her residence with his parents.  It was a happy home,
+free from strife, and the daughter-in-law found no difficulty in
+fitting herself into her place.  She shared the love that the parents
+in the fullness of their affection showered upon their son.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Ananda was nineteen and Dorama, his wife, sixteen, she presented
+him with a son.  If anything could have been added to the cup of joy
+that was already full, it was this.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now we are assured of the completion of our happiness and the
+fulfilment of our desire," said his father.  "We may allow ourselves to
+consider your future.  One day we hope to see you take a prominent part
+in the government of the country.  Possibly you may rise to occupy a
+place on the Maharajah's council.  These honours cannot be attained
+without a journey to England."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it necessary, my father?" asked Ananda, watching his young wife as
+she sat on the fine grass matting with the baby on her lap.  He would
+have been more than content to continue in the pleasant backwater of
+domestic life without seeking new scenes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is necessary in these days of progress.  His Highness himself takes
+occasional voyages across the ocean to see the western world with his
+own eyes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His caste is not our caste," objected Ananda, with the unconscious
+superiority of a man of better birth.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Still, his example is to be imitated."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not without loss of caste."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Caste can be restored on your return.  The penances and penalties are
+lighter than they used to be."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But the breaking of caste is none the less serious for the lightening
+of the penalties."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That may be," assented Pantulu.  "All the same, it is imperative in
+these days that men should see something of the world outside their own
+State; and there is no doubt that those who have travelled in Europe,
+and lived for a time in England, are preferred in the council to those
+who have had no experience.  Having thought the matter well over, my
+son, your mother and I have decided on this step.  You will sail from
+Bombay in April next; and it is proposed by their families to send
+Coomara and Bopaul with you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda's father consulted with Wenaston, who had recently been
+appointed as Principal of the large college at Chirapore, as to the
+best place of residence in London; with the result that the three
+Hindus found themselves committed to the care of Professor Twyford.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul had no qualms over his broken caste.  He accepted the decree of
+exile with pleasure, and determined to make the most of his
+opportunities.  He intended to amuse himself as well as read with the
+Professor; and he carried out his programme, the only shadow to cross
+his path later being the death of Coomara.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shortly before they left for England, the guru paid them a visit.  The
+Vedas were quoted and the laws of Manu repeated with many warnings
+against falling away from the faith.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are going to a foreign land, the home of revolutionary teaching.
+Be careful how you listen, and let no one undermine the instructions
+that I with divine authority have given you.  Attempts will be made;
+you must resist them.  Here in this State of Chirakul we still enjoy
+the great boon of an hereditary ruler.  Under his government we have
+successfully repelled the innovations that have been introduced into
+British India.  If fate should decree that any of you enter the service
+of our Maharajah, it will rest with you to help to preserve our ancient
+faith."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Coomara looked up at the tall figure that stood before him, and his
+glance fell beneath the fiery eyes.  He dropped at the feet of the
+teacher and pressed his forehead to the ground with words of worship
+and adoration such as might have been addressed to the Deity.  In his
+eyes the guru was God Himself, neither His messenger nor prophet; and
+as such he bowed himself in deep humility and worshipped.  As he lay
+there a voice like the voice of a god reached him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My son, I do not forbid your ears to listen nor your eyes to see.
+What you hear and see will be of use in the work you will have to do on
+your return.  A knowledge of the enemy is necessary to success."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What work, oh swami?  May thy servant know?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The preservation of our great religion, the emancipation of our
+country, the elevation of our nation; the casting out of a race of
+demons who would have us believe that they are spirits of light.  May
+they be accursed with their Christ!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He broke into imprecations against the supreme power that claimed
+sovereignty over the Maharajah of Chirakul and against the Founder of
+the Christian faith.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Swami, is it your decree that I should take this voyage across the
+black water&mdash;that I should break my caste?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only by going to England can you ever hope to rise to a position
+wherein you may help the cause that we have at heart."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And if I die in that foreign land, swami?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will be born again to suffering and degradation," said the
+inexorable voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Swami, swami!  Let me stay in my father's house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It cannot be.  It is the will of the gods!" replied the guru.  "My
+son," he added, in softer accents, "be not afraid.  You will return in
+safety to help the cause we have at heart and be blessed by the holy
+Brahmans."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda and Bopaul heard the words and remembered them afterwards.  "You
+will be born again to toil and suffering and degradation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And they believed them; for had they not been spoken by the guru, in
+whom dwelt the divine afflatus?
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center">
+<SPAN STYLE="letter-spacing: 4em">*****</SPAN><BR>
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dr. Wenaston shortened his stay in town after the accident, and
+cancelled his social engagements.  The death of Coomara affected him,
+though in a lesser degree.  He developed an aversion to public
+gatherings and to the assemblage of a crowd in street or train or on
+the field of sport.  A vague feeling of apprehension destroyed his
+pleasure, and he recognised with dismay that he, too, was suffering
+from nerves.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was only one remedy, and that was to seek comparative solitude
+for a while until the nervous system should recover its equilibrium.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His sister suggested a leisurely motor trip into the depths of the
+country.  They could choose their road and regulate their pace to
+please themselves.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They wandered through the south and west of England, fortunate in their
+weather and choice of route.  When it suited them they remained at a
+quiet little seaside place for a week or two; or in a still more sleepy
+country town, with the happy result that Wenaston entirely recovered
+his health mentally and bodily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The summer passed and he sent his sister home to make her preparation
+for the voyage to India, while he went to his club for the same object.
+He had not seen the Professor since he led Ananda and Bopaul back to
+his house in dazed and prostrate condition on that memorable afternoon,
+and had told the story of the accident.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On his arrival in town he wrote to Mrs. Twyford, saying that he would
+come to lunch on the following Sunday.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was one of those bright autumn days, when the sun touched every
+object with a golden light.  Even the city of smoke and fog was
+rendered beautiful in its dress of grey and gold.  The streets,
+thronged on week-day with traffic, were empty except during the
+half-hour before service.  Church-bells rang out their call in all
+directions, summoning their eclectic congregations to the morning
+services.  The sound of the great cathedral chimes dominated them all.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston stood for a minute or two on the steps of St. Paul's
+listening, that he might retain the echo in his ears and carry it away
+into exile.  Temple-bells might clang around him, and the
+ding-ding-ding of the Christian Church bell call him on Sunday; but
+nowhere throughout the East would a melody like that sent forth from
+the dome of St. Paul's ever ring in his ear.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He entered the cathedral and moved swiftly up the centre aisle.  The
+space under the dome was filling fast.  He turned to the right and
+found a seat near the pulpit.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The chimes ceased, and the big bell monotoned the final invitation to
+the increasing crowd.  Before it stopped the organ pealed forth the
+first chords of the voluntary.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+If the truth is to be recorded, Wenaston had not gone to church with
+any conscious desire to humble himself in prayer, nor to lift his soul
+to God in praise.  The melody of the choir succeeded the song of the
+bells.  He listened passively, revelling in the perfect harmony and
+abandoning himself to the soothing, almost sensuous feeling of peace
+and contentment brought by the music and environment.  He knelt and
+stood, following mechanically the example of his neighbours; and when
+the organ ceased and the preacher entered the pulpit, he rested
+motionless in his chair, yielding himself to the luxury of the
+sensations that had been roused by the music.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At the conclusion of the sermon, eager for more of that which so soon
+would be unattainable, he determined to remain to the end of the
+service.  A large number of people left the cathedral, and he moved up
+nearer to the choir, with the object of securing a better seat, but
+with no intention of communicating.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When the departing congregation had cleared away, his eyes were drawn
+towards a kneeling figure in front.  Something in its outline was
+familiar.  The head, with short abundant black hair, was bowed in
+silent prayer.  The worshipper was no idle visitor; nor had he come to
+have his ears tickled or his senses steeped in superb harmonies.  The
+music that echoed through arch and aisle was unheeded in the effort to
+raise the spirit to God.  The man was there to pray, and his prayerful
+attitude was unchanged until the first chords of the <I>Gloria</I> were
+struck.  As prayer passed into a glorious song of praise, the
+worshipper lifted his head and Wenaston caught a glimpse of the
+features.  Astounded beyond measure&mdash;he could not have explained
+why&mdash;he recognised Ananda.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When the service ended he rose, and allowing the Hindu to pass out
+before him, caught him up at the west door.  Ananda's eyes were not
+upon the crowd that jostled him, and he did not observe Wenaston's
+presence.  In their dark depths shone the light of a great happiness
+mingled with that exaltation which may be seen in the eyes of the
+convert.  Wenaston's surprise was not lessened as he noted it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You!  Ananda!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Hindu turned at once and held out his hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dr. Wenaston!  We thought that you were still in the south of England!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have been there; but my leave is getting short, and I have come to
+town to prepare for my journey back to India.  Mrs. Twyford did not
+tell you that I am to lunch with you all to-day?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She said nothing about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston gazed at him with searching eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How is it that I find you in St. Paul's?" he asked, adding as an
+after-thought.  "And not as a spectator."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because I have taken a momentous step.  I have become a Christian."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is this the Professor's doing?" asked Wenaston, after a slight pause.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No," replied Ananda, readily.  "The Professor had nothing to do with
+my act."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell me about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They walked along the deserted city streets where a few well-dressed
+folk were strolling and an occasional omnibus rolled noisily by.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"After Coomara's death I was very much troubled.  I could not bear to
+think of his fate.  Sometimes I was overwhelmed with grief on his
+account; sometimes I was beside myself with terror on my own, lest a
+like fate should overtake me.  It became more than I could bear.  The
+Professor was very kind.  He tried to console me with some of his own
+doctrines, and suggested that I should draw comfort from them without
+necessarily adopting Christianity.  As you know, it was one of the
+conditions imposed by my father on the Professor that there should be
+no attempt on his part at proselytising.  Being an honourable man, he
+kept faith with my father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did it come about, then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A curious thing happened.  One of the English students living in the
+house introduced me to the mother and sister of the aviator who was
+killed that day.  In my grief and trouble over Coomara's fate I had
+almost forgotten the accident.  I spoke to them about it, and told them
+of my own sorrow.  They were goodness itself.  To my astonishment I saw
+that they were bearing their grief with a resignation that put me to
+shame.  It was their belief&mdash;their unshaken faith in the future that
+gave them strength.  They were so sure, so certain that their beloved
+one was safe with God and happier than he could ever be on earth.  I
+marvelled at their peace of mind, and asked myself why I should not
+share it.  Sorrow had made them very tender towards the trouble of
+others.  In short, it was through them that I changed my religion.
+They introduced me to their vicar.  Unknown to the Professor, I put
+myself under instruction, and three weeks ago I was baptized."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Without consulting your guardian?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Without his knowledge.  He knows now.  I did not wish to compromise
+him, and I begged my friends to keep my secret until I was baptized.  I
+am of age, and can please myself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He looked up at Wenaston, as if to hear what he had to say, and whether
+he approved.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You ought to have told Twyford."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda's hands were lifted in a little gesture of deprecation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was afraid, afraid of losing my new-found happiness.  I was afraid
+of opposition from Bopaul if he knew.  I was afraid lest the Professor
+should want me to write first to my father and obtain his consent.  I
+was afraid&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He paused, and Wenaston remarked with a gravity in which there was
+concern and doubt&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You may in truth say that you have taken a momentous step.  God give
+you strength to be no longer afraid."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap04"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER IV
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chirapore, the capital of the large native state of Chirakul was
+situated on plateau land.  In the months of March and April the
+thermometer rose above ninety degrees; but the rest of the year the
+climate was subtropical in character, and accounted cool as compared
+with the plains.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The plateau was bounded on one side by hills&mdash;spurs of the Western
+Ghats&mdash;where the virgin forest nestled in the ravines and valleys, and
+big game wandered free and unmolested by the war of extermination that
+progressive man too often wages in his encroachment upon nature.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Between the hills and Chirapore lay fields of grain and topes of fruit
+trees, the latter always green in the subtropical climate; there was a
+continual passing from seed-time to harvest, from flower to fruit
+without the paralysing inactivity induced by the hard winters of the
+temperate zone, or the fiery tropical summers of the torrid regions.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The city itself was built upon undulating ground, its centre being the
+old fort.  Before British rule was established the inhabitants of
+Chirapore lived as near to the fort as was possible, seeking protection
+from the guns; but in later days, when there was no longer any fear of
+Mahratta horsemen, they ventured further afield, and the town was
+extended upon the smiling plateau in nobler lines.  Handsome roads
+lined with private houses or shops intersected the suburbs.  Many of
+the larger dwellings were older than the roads, and stood within their
+own grounds, a wall dividing them from the public way and ensuring the
+privacy essential to the happiness of caste families.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was in one of these substantial mansions that Ananda's father, known
+as Pantulu Iyer, lived.  It had belonged to the family for several
+generations.  In course of time Ananda would inherit it with the silk
+farms and looms by which Pantulu and his immediate ancestors had
+accumulated a considerable fortune.  As is usual with families of good
+caste and wealth, the members were numerous, including relatives of
+near and distant degree.  There was no lack of room for them in the
+large house; and many of them gave their services in the domestic work
+of cooking and housekeeping.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu's wife, a woman of character, full of pride and caste
+prejudice, ruled the household with a firm but not unkind hand.  Her
+position was strengthened by the fact that she was her husband's first
+and only wife.  She had given him a son, and he was satisfied.  Ananda
+had fulfilled all their dearest expectations; and as has already been
+stated, the parents had sent him to England to complete an education
+that should eventually fit him for a post in the Maharajah's
+Government, an assistant-commissionership; and later, perhaps, a place
+on the Council.  To a father's ambition for his son there is no limit.
+Pantulu saw no reason why his son should not one day step into the
+Dewan's shoes should an opportunity occur.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The time approached for the return of the son of the house.  News had
+been received of Coomara's death, but not a word had been said of the
+effect it had produced upon Ananda, nor of the grave consequences that
+had ensued.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul, travelling with his friend, was careful to drop no hint.  He
+knew intuitively that the step Ananda had taken could not fail to rouse
+a disastrous storm.  Bopaul had a fastidious dislike to storms; and the
+longer the announcement of the change of religion could be deferred the
+better pleased he would be.  He was in no way responsible for the
+actions of the other; but it was possible that he might be drawn into
+the trouble that it must inevitably raise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+During the voyage out the subject of Ananda's change of religion was
+not mentioned between the two friends.  Bopaul felt strongly that there
+was nothing to be said one way or the other.  The deed was done and
+could not be undone.  If the step had only been under contemplation and
+not irrevocably taken, he might have urged delay, consultation with the
+head of the family, consideration for the feelings of others besides
+himself.  It was too late for all that; therefore it was useless to
+discuss it, and he kept a discreet silence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda attended the services held on Sunday for the benefit of the
+passengers and ship's officers.  No one spoke to him on the subject of
+religion or attempted to win his confidence.  His history was not known
+nor were his companions aware, with the exception of Bopaul, that he
+had accepted Christianity.  He followed the service reverently; and if
+any one troubled himself with conjectures, he probably came to the
+conclusion that the young man had received baptism.  For all that was
+known he might have been born a Christian.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul glanced at the peaceful face of his friend when he rejoined him
+on deck after the service, and wondered if Ananda realised what was
+before him.  Of a nature inclined to shrink from any violent display of
+emotion, how would he meet the turbulent passions that would be roused
+in every member of his family as soon as the news was told.  Did he
+realise all that was involved?  He had been well instructed in the
+doctrines of Hinduism by his guru; and he had duly performed the
+various ceremonies prescribed at different periods of childhood and
+youth by the laws of his religion.  What thought was it that stirred in
+his mind as he leaned on the taffrail and looked pensively down at the
+seething white froth churned by the passage of the big ship through the
+waters of the Indian Ocean?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul would have lifted his eyebrows in amused surprise could he have
+seen the figure that filled the mental vision of his friend.  It was
+none other than Dorama, the young wife to whom after a long absence he
+was returning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When the marriage took place bride and bridegroom were but children.
+The depths of their emotions were unruffled by the honeymoon which was
+spent, according to custom, three years later under the paternal roof.
+Two or three years of placid married life followed, during which Ananda
+was still absorbed in his studies, and Dorama was engaged in
+housewifely duties under the supervision of an autocratic
+mother-in-law, who was not unkind, but rigidly exacting, with no
+leaning whatever towards modern innovations.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then came the birth of the son.  Ananda found it a little difficult to
+believe that he had really attained the much-desired estate of
+paternity.  He let his eyes rest on the girl-mother and his child with
+wondrous delight.  The sight of them stirred him strangely, and awoke
+new longings that he did not understand.  Those longings were the
+instinctive desires of the animal man to claim his mate for himself;
+and to carry her and her baby to some remote fastness, where he could
+hide her from the swarms of relatives who in their joy seemed to think
+that she belonged to them rather than to him.  He wanted to gloat over
+her beauty, her wifehood and her motherhood, and to exult in sole
+possession.  What did it mean?  It almost awed him in its strength and
+insistence.  Surely he was not rebelling against the time-honoured
+custom of the family life!  He was not seeking to leave the home of his
+fathers!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then came the journey to England and the separation.  The underlying,
+scarcely recognised discontent vanished with the excitement of travel;
+but the memory of Dorama in her new character did not fade.  On the
+contrary, it grew clearer and more beautiful the longer he cherished
+it, gathering romance and raising the wife far above all other women.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He determined that he would ask his father to give him a house of his
+own on his return with a suitable establishment over which his wife
+could rule.  The plan commended itself for more reasons than one.
+Since he had changed his religion and adopted many western habits as
+well, his parents, who were people of discernment, could not fail to
+understand the necessity for some such arrangement.  They might not
+like it; they might not be pleased that those western habits were
+adopted; they would assuredly disapprove of the change of religion; but
+when they comprehended that the changes had been effected to increase
+the comfort and happiness, spiritually as well as bodily, of their son,
+they would become reconciled.  In sending him to England they must have
+been aware of the risks he ran of assimilating the ideas of the people
+among whom he had to live in such close intimacy.  The doubts that
+troubled the keener-witted Bopaul did not therefore ruffle his
+serenity.  He had no forebodings of the thunder-clouds that were
+gathering.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu, in company with Bopaul's father, went to Bombay to meet the
+mail boat.  They decided not to go on board, but to await the coming of
+the travellers on the landing-stage.  As Ananda and his companion
+stepped ashore with the throng of passengers the two men pressed
+forward.  The sons folded their hands in reverence, and then extended
+the right in the clasp that is general in these days all over the
+world.  The greeting attracted no attention, so quiet was it in its
+nature; but underneath the simple formalities lay a feeling too deep
+for words.  Later, when the luggage had been disposed of and they were
+in the privacy of their own sitting-room in the hotel, Ananda, who had
+been unusually silent, spoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have something to say, my beloved and honourable father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At the words Bopaul sprang to his feet.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come, sir," he said to his father, "we will leave his Excellency
+Pantulu Iyer with my friend Ananda to talk over their private
+affairs&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Before the older man could rise, Ananda said hastily&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Stop, Bopaul!  I wish you to remain and hear what I have to say.
+Possibly I may have to ask you to confirm my statement.  My father may
+otherwise find it difficult of belief."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul reseated himself, looking ill at ease.  His father, influenced
+by a suddenly roused curiosity, which he had no scruples in satisfying,
+showed a disinclination to move.  The eyes of both parents were fixed
+in surprise upon the sons, and they waited breathless to hear what
+communication Ananda had to make to his father.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu had removed his turban and replaced it by a velvet cap that
+covered his shaven head and the knot of hair on the crown.  He had
+drawn his feet up beneath him, and his thoughts, if they were occupied
+at all, were busy building up a gilded future, in which his son was the
+chief figure.  It took some seconds to detach his mind from his
+ambitious visions and concentrate it upon the fact that Ananda had
+something to say.  In his old-fashioned opinion, children listened; it
+was for the parents to speak.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With mild astonishment he fixed his eyes upon his son.  No suspicion of
+the blow that was impending crossed his mind.  Doubtless Ananda was
+going to suggest an extension of the visit to Bombay that they might
+see a little of the Presidency town before going south.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My father, I hope that it will not trouble you to learn that during my
+residence in England I have adopted many of the ways of that country."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They will soon pass off, my son, when you return home and find
+yourself in the family once more.  It is well to have a knowledge
+now-a-days of western customs, many of which the Maharajah himself has
+adopted.  The time may come when you will often find yourself in his
+presence.  Your English experience will serve you well on those
+occasions."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda listened in silence without interrupting the speaker.  Bopaul
+showed more uneasiness, rising from his chair and moving restlessly
+about the room as though longing to escape.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have learned to like the ways I have adopted&mdash;and the dress."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda glanced down at the neat frock coat and trousers that became his
+figure and set it off to advantage.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Our Maharajah wears the same kind of garments.  There is no reason why
+you should not retain the dress in public."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I intend to retain the dress and habits of English life," he replied
+with decision.  Then, after a slight pause that seemed to the listeners
+to be shadowed by some strange unknown danger, he continued: "But this
+is not all.  After much thought and deliberation I have also adopted
+the religion of England."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A dead silence greeted this announcement.  Its full meaning did not
+immediately strike the listeners.  Bopaul glanced from one to the
+other.  The expression on the face of his own father held his
+attention.  It was a curious mixture of astonishment, dismay, and
+incredulity.  The jaw dropped; the eyes opened to their widest extent,
+and the brows were like two rainbows, so arched had they become.
+Bopaul had that insane desire to laugh which seizes men and women at a
+crisis fraught with possible disaster; he turned his back on the
+company to hide his trembling lips.  An inarticulate sound made him
+look round.  It came from his own parent, who struggled in vain to
+frame a question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul divined its import.  Was he, too, a renegade, a 'vert?  He
+controlled his lips and strangled his ill-timed mirth.  A sign in the
+negative set his father's mind at rest on that point, and enabled the
+older man to give his undivided attention to what was passing between
+Pantulu and his son.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu, like his friend, had been struck dumb by the shock of Ananda's
+statement.  He moistened his lips, and after a few ineffectual attempts
+accomplished articulation.  His voice sounded strange and unlike his
+usual tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have&mdash;adopted&mdash;the religion of&mdash;England, my son!  I fail to grasp
+your meaning!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have become a Christian."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda spoke clearly, but with a doggedness that seemed a little
+forced.  Under his calmness lurked timidity.  Bopaul detected it and
+again his lips quivered, this time with the ghost of a scornful smile.
+It required a magnificent courage and enormous endurance for a caste
+man to make such a change.  If he knew Ananda aright his friend had no
+great store of either courage or endurance.  His Christianity would
+soon be knocked out of him when the family had him back again in the
+old home away from foreign influences, unless he, Bopaul, was very much
+mistaken.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu dropped his feet to the ground, raised himself by the arms of
+the lounge on which he was seated, and rose without haste to his full
+height.  The folds of his soft white muslin cloth fell over his lower
+limbs, the flowing drapery giving him an oriental dignity that was
+patriarchal.  He wore a dark-blue serge coat, a white shirt and linen
+collar, with tie to match the coat.  Everything was of the best quality
+and fitted his aristocratic well-made figure without fault.  On the
+little finger of his right hand shone a diamond of rare beauty, his
+only ornament.  The sparkle of the gem caught Ananda's eye as the hand
+was slightly raised in growing horror.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A Christian! a Christian!" he repeated.  Then lowering his hand he
+seemed to shake off the horror by an effort of will.  "I have not
+understood you, my son.  There is some mistake.  Whatever strange
+customs you may have thought fit to adopt during your stay in England,
+you must drop them now.  They have served their purpose, and they must
+be thrown aside like the strange weeds that as a child you gathered in
+the jungle, and cast upon the dust heap on your return before entering
+the house.  You have returned to the home of your fathers a Hindu, an
+orthodox Hindu, a Vishnuvite.  Even now at this moment the Swami, our
+guru, waits at our house in Chirapore to see the ceremonies performed
+that will restore your caste and purify you from the pollution of these
+western habits."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The voice grew firmer until it rang out like a sharply-struck bell.
+Yet for all its firmness there was a strain of desperate entreaty
+running through it, as though the speaker waited in passionate hope for
+confirmation of his assertions.  That confirmation did not come.
+Ananda, as he stood before his father, shifted uneasily from one foot
+to the other; and as the elder ceased speaking he said falteringly&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No caste ceremonies will be required.  I have given up Hinduism.  I
+have been baptised and received into the English Church.  It is not
+necessary to look so serious over it, honoured father.  All that will
+be needed can be done without difficulty.  It will be advisable to give
+me a separate house and establishment for myself and my wife and son,
+since our presence will naturally create trouble for my mother in the
+preparation of food.  I am also prepared to find that many members of
+your household may demand my exclusion from the family circle."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda's even voice appeared to have a paralysing effect upon both the
+older men; for they were silent.  Bopaul's father was the first to find
+his tongue.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My friend, I am sorry for this.  It is an unspeakable misfortune."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pity, unsolicited and unexpected, and equally unwelcome, broke the
+spell and opened the floodgates of wrath.  Again the diamond flashed as
+the paternal hand was raised.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A Christian!  My son a cursed Christian! an outcaste! an alien! lower
+than the pariah, more loathed than the punchama sweeper!  Oh! what have
+I done that the gods should curse me thus?  What sin have I committed
+that I should be thus afflicted and punished?  My son! my only son!"
+Once more a desperate effort was made to reject, to disbelieve the
+terrible news.  "My little son!" he used the pet name by which Ananda
+had been known as a child, and it came from his lips with infinite
+tenderness.  "My little son! tell me you have but joked, and that you
+have been playing upon your poor old father's fears.  Be satisfied that
+you have startled and frightened him.  Now reassure him! restore him to
+happiness, my little son!  Be kind and tender in your strong young
+manhood to one who is growing old and whose life is bound up in yours."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He placed his hands together, palm to palm, and bowed his proud head in
+humble entreaty.  Bopaul once more turned his back upon the company and
+strode towards one of the windows.  The sight of Pantulu's grief and
+distress pained him more than he cared to admit.  Ananda did not hear
+the appeal unmoved.  Tears sprang into his eyes, and he too averted his
+gaze from a sight that sent a sharp knife through his heart; but, like
+all weak natures, he possessed a strain of obstinacy that came now to
+his assistance.  Bopaul, who had more force of character, could not
+have listened to such an appeal from his father without wavering in his
+determination, no matter how great might have been his courage.  With
+Ananda it had a contrary effect.  It distressed and pained him beyond
+expression; but it strengthened rather than weakened his resolve, and
+created a desire to justify his action.  He answered firmly and
+decisively, and in that answer his father recognised the obstinacy of
+the perverse boy who so often succeeded in getting his own way in spite
+of his timid nature.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is true.  I am a Christian, and I intend to remain a Christian.  I
+am sorry if it hurts you, my father; but I have arrived at man's estate
+and must judge for myself.  I have taken the step deliberately and with
+due thought and consideration."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is the Professor's doing, him to whom I entrusted you!" cried
+Pantulu, his wrath rising hotly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, it is not!  The Professor had nothing to do with it!" replied
+Ananda, in a sharp, clear voice.  He turned to Bopaul, who was still
+standing with his back to them.  "Reassure my father on this point,
+please.  Had Professor Twyford or his family anything to do with the
+step I have taken?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To the best of my belief, none.  He showed as much astonishment when
+you announced the change as I felt myself.  What was more, he was
+terribly disturbed by the news."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu made no comment on this confirmation of his son's story, and
+Ananda began again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It happened in this way&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Silence!" thundered his father, in a voice that made them all start.
+"When the dhoby's donkey falls into the tank, does it bring him to life
+again to explain what caused his foot to slip?  Thou art cursed!
+cursed! cursed!  No longer shalt thou be a son of mine!  I am
+childless!  Go from my sight, and never let my eyes fall upon thee
+again!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He used the language usually addressed to inferiors, and it stung.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let me explain, most excellent father&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Call me not father, son of a dog!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you would only let me speak, I can&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sooner would I listen to the 'untouchable' who cleans the gutters and
+carries away the contents of the dustbin!  Go!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He moved towards him threateningly.  Ananda stepped back a pace or two,
+but did not show any sign of leaving the room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not fair to judge any one unheard," he began again; but he was
+not allowed to finish the sentence.  Pantulu, beside himself with rage,
+advanced with uplifted hand and brought his fist down upon his son's
+face.  The diamond caught his lip and tore it open.  Blood flowed and
+dropped upon the white shirt-front, leaving a large red stain.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul rushed forward, interposing himself between the two, and pushed
+his friend through the doorway leading to his bedroom.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The outraged father glared after his son and panted out in gasps&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never in the whole course of the boy's life have I laid a hand upon
+him.  What have I done!  What have I done!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He sank down into his chair and covered his face with his hands.  Joy,
+ambition, paternal pride, all had been extinguished, leaving him a
+broken and miserable man.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap05"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER V
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For the past twelve months the family of Pantulu Iyer had been
+preparing for the return of the son and heir.  In the first place
+Gunga, Ananda's mother, had undertaken a pilgrimage to the large
+Vishnuvite temple at Srirungam, near Trichinopoly.  She was a proud
+woman, full of energy, just but strict in the performance of duties,
+religious as well as social.  She demanded of others the same rigid
+adherence to rule, and she countenanced no indulgence nor slackness in
+young or old among her dependents.  By her decree Dorama and her little
+son were to accompany her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The journey would have been easy by rail; but Pantulu's wife was not a
+woman to look for ease and comfort where ceremonial was concerned.  She
+chose the way of her ancestors and elected to travel by road as they
+had travelled in the old days before the fire-carriage revolutionised
+the Indian methods of journeying.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It took many days, even though she used her own powerful bullocks.
+Besides the coach there was a country cart which carried the
+cooking-pots, bedding, and her own caste servants.  The people of the
+villages through which she passed inquired the name of the gracious
+lady who honoured their poor hamlet by her presence.  The reply was
+given by the drivers; she was the wife of a rich silk merchant of
+Chirapore, carrying offerings to the big temple at Srirungam.  Why did
+she make offerings?  Was her husband sick?  No; it was because her son
+who had been to England was returning, and she was anxious to enlist
+the favour of the gods so that he might be restored to her in safety.
+The country folk received the information with much salaaming, and
+expressed a hope that she would be favoured.  They supplied her with
+eggs and milk; and admired the fine handsome white cattle that drew her
+coach, praising the drooping ears and swinging dew-laps in loud tones
+that were intended to penetrate the curtains that hung before the
+windows of the carriage.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At the big temple she was honourably received.  The gifts she brought
+were presented by her tiny grandson in the absence of any other male
+member of the family.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The little Royan, named after his great-grandfather, was decked in
+purple velvet and crimson satin; and his small person was laden with
+jewels of gold and precious stones.  The soft baby hand, timidly
+extended to the awe-inspiring mahunt&mdash;who graciously deigned to receive
+the offerings in person&mdash;was weighed down by the solid gold lime
+resting on his palm.  The great man smiled as he stooped and received
+the substantial gift.  By the side of the child stood his grandmother,
+erect in her hale middle-age.  Her limbs had not yet lost the lines of
+a comely youth, nor the features their haughty beauty.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Half hidden behind her was the smaller figure of Dorama, her eyes cast
+down, her rich silk cloth, plain in colour and pattern, veiling her
+lately-developed form.  The eyes of the mahunt dwelt upon her as he
+asked a few questions.  He learned that her husband was in England, and
+would be returning some time during the year.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She will rejoin him and give you another grandson to rejoice your
+heart," said the mahunt.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It may be so if the gods will," replied Gunga in a tone that seemed to
+dismiss the subject.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Should your hopes not be fulfilled you must make another pilgrimage to
+the temple, and she must keep vigil before the god.  It cannot fail to
+bring about the desired result."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+To this proposition the elder lady made no reply, and the mahunt
+retired, casting another glance of approval upon Dorama.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After a few days' rest, Gunga returned as she went, making the journey
+by easy stages.  The nights were spent at the various rest-houses on
+the road, where her attendants cooked the food and saw to her comfort.
+She chose a time when the weather promised to be fine, and it did not
+disappoint her.  The expedition was a pleasant jaunt, which Dorama
+enjoyed more than a little.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On her return home Gunga superintended other preparations considered
+necessary for the occasion.  The whole household&mdash;with all its
+dependents and caste servants numbering over fifty&mdash;had to be fitted
+out with new clothes.  The little close-fitting jackets of bright
+colours affected by the women were fashioned by careful tailors.  Men's
+coats of brilliant cloth, lined with silk and richly embroidered with
+gold, were put in hand.  New lengths of muslin of the finest quality
+were purchased after careful and deliberate bargaining; and many of the
+family jewels were reset.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was in these heirlooms that Dorama was most interested.  According
+to time-honoured custom among modest Hindu women, she had laid aside
+her jewels on her husband's departure; nor was she permitted to use the
+golden saffron powder that is supposed to enhance the beauty of the
+Indian skin.  With his return all restriction of self-adornment would
+end; and the finest and best of the jewels would be hung about her own
+neck and arms; and her smooth skin would gleam with powder that would
+match the newly-burnished gold.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The tailors needed supervision; the working goldsmiths required
+individual watching.  A member of the family, usually one of the elder
+women, was told off to sit by his crucible and work-table whilst he
+plied his bellows and his delicate styles; and the half-finished
+ornament was carried home in the evening to be restored to the jeweller
+in the morning when the person in charge was able to resume her guard.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then there were the preparations that belonged to the kitchen, the
+chutneys, pickles, and preserves that would be required when the time
+arrived for feasting and feeding the poor Brahmans.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama assisted under her mother-in-law's directions, lending a hand
+here and there where special care was needed.  She was very silent; but
+beneath that silence was hidden a fire of emotions varied and deep that
+the others little dreamed of.  She thought of her wedding, long ago
+when she was but a child.  At the time the ceremonies had excited her
+wonder, and she had experienced a fearful pleasure in the thought that
+she was the centre of attention.  She remembered Ananda's smooth boyish
+face and his gentle acquiescence to all his parents' wishes.  He had
+glanced at his newly-made wife with childish curiosity, in which
+passion and desire found no place.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Later the parents arranged a honeymoon for the young couple, to be
+spent under the paternal roof.  On her side, at least, there was
+nothing but distaste and fear, with not a little grief at having to
+leave her own home.  Then ensued a dull period when light household
+tasks instead of dolls and toys filled her life.  It ended in the birth
+of a son.  With the advent of the baby she was released from domestic
+work in the kitchen; and though she found that the wonderful living
+doll was not her exclusive property, but seemed to belong to the whole
+house as much as to her, existence had a new interest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Before she was sufficiently recovered to take her new place as the
+favoured young mother of a son in the family circle, Ananda departed.
+She remembered how he had knelt by her side and looked at the tiny
+baby, their joint property, with a kind of delighted surprise, as
+though he found it difficult to realise that the little crumpled olive
+ball of humanity was his own, his very own.  From his child his eyes
+went to his child's mother with a light in them that she had never seen
+there before.  She was no longer one of the mere goods and chattels of
+the house to help to minister to his appetite, feed him, keep his
+clothes in order and perform other duties that contributed to his
+comfort and well-being.  In giving him this son, who would one day call
+him by the name most highly prized throughout the land, she had done
+something purely personal, something exclusively for him; and in so
+doing she had endowed him with a delight and joy unknown before.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was impossible for him to express his gratitude in words.  The
+presence of his mother standing near with her dark, watchful eyes kept
+him silent.  He could only gaze from wife to child and then back again
+at his wife.  In his shining eyes, full of unspoken happiness, the girl
+might read what she pleased.  Even as he knelt by the mat on which she
+lay the new longing arose to possess, to enjoy, to claim his own, and
+carry his precious treasures away.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The watching mother detected the emotion, and a twinge of jealousy
+caused her to stir uneasily.  She advanced and laid a hand upon his
+shoulder, her gold bracelets ringing as they fell together upon her
+wrist with the movement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come away, my son; she is still weak, and unable to bear a long
+farewell.  Be assured that we will keep her safe and sound till you
+return, her and her little son."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda bent lower over the recumbent figure, and his mother's brow
+contracted as she saw the motion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Beloved! keep your heart warm for your absent husband," he whispered,
+as he kissed the beautiful mouth.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama, as a well-behaved married woman, should have shown no emotion
+beyond grief.  She should have received the kiss and the words in
+silence, allowing the eyelids to droop under his ardent gaze; but in
+these latter days of progress the orthodox Hindu feels the insensible
+breath of the new spirit, and yields to it without actually breaking
+away from the old rules.  That same spirit moved her to put her arms
+round his neck and to draw him down again till their lips touched a
+second time.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do not be long, beloved.  The slave waits impatiently for her lord."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come! come!  The carriage is ready, and his honour, your father, is
+impatient to be off," said the voice of his mother, as once more her
+hand rested on his shoulder.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He rose to his feet and accompanied her without another word, turning
+once only to look back and smile at the eyes that followed him so
+wistfully.  Neither husband nor wife forgot the incident.  Every
+detail, every look and word were engraved upon their memories, and with
+this their aching hungry hearts had to be contented until they should
+meet again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As the time drew near for Ananda's return Dorama moved like one in a
+dream.  During the day she was abstracted and thoughtful, except when
+she was with her little son.  If by any chance she could carry him out
+of hearing of the other members of the family on pretence of giving him
+the air, she spoke of his father, pouring out the pent-up feeling in
+words, the meaning of which was beyond the child's comprehension.  It
+brought relief, although it did not allay the terrible longing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When the pink satin coat that Royan was to wear on his father's
+home-coming was finished, Dorama stole away to the little room she had
+shared with her husband, and slipped it on.  The boy's eyes sparkled
+with delight at the colour and sheen.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your father is coming, blessed one!  Say 'Father, excellent father!
+Your son and slave throws himself before your honourable footsteps!'
+Say it!  Ah, good child!  It was well done!  Now again; and carry the
+hand to the forehead, thus!  Good, little one!  Mother's joy!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly the sound of Gunga's voice fell on her ear as some order was
+given in the distance to one of the dependents.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah! there is the grandmother!  Quick! take it off!  The coat is only
+to be worn in the presence of your father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She pulled it off, the child entering into the fun and excitement of
+doing something that must be hidden from the rigid mistress of the
+house.  When the coast was clear Dorama crept back, the coat hidden
+under her saree and her finger on her lips.  The purloined garment was
+replaced in the clothes chest without discovery, and the two, laughing
+like a couple of mischievous children, ran away in happy glee over
+their secret.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At night she lay on her mat in the large room appropriated to the women
+of the household, wakeful with busy thought and anticipation.  The deep
+breathing and occasional snore of her companions told her that they
+slept soundly.  Then she ventured to move, to stretch her young limbs
+and sit up.  Her brain seemed on fire.  Would her mother give them
+again the little room; or would the son of the house be honoured by
+being assigned a larger and more important chamber?  Would he be
+altered in any way?  Possibly he had grown older in appearance,
+stronger in limb, more manly.  How the women of England must have
+admired him!  Hateful creatures!  She detested English women!  What was
+there to admire in them?  They were blocks of ice with hard, cold,
+white skins and unkind eyes.  She had never seen them except in the
+streets as they drove past in carriages or motors; but she was quite
+convinced that she read their characters aright, and that her opinion
+of them was correct.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She heard the cocks crowing as they marked the progress of the night.
+In the midst of her musings she fell asleep, and dreamed that he had
+come, that he leaned over her in greeting as he had leaned in parting,
+and that their lips met once more.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Among other preparations was the painting and decoration of the house.
+As the time approached Venetian masts were erected and wreaths
+suspended the length of the road in which they lived.  Bunches of
+leaves and flowers were tied to the beams of the house, and whole
+plantain trees bearing their large clusters of golden fruit were
+fastened to every pillar.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then the guru with his disciple arrived, and the purohit from the
+temple, to superintend the ceremonies that were necessary for the
+restoration of caste.  Gunga, in the absence of her husband in Bombay,
+gave the holy men a welcome, and saw that nothing was omitted that was
+conducive to their comfort.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As the time drew near the whole household felt the thrill of
+expectation that never fails to move a family when one of its members
+is expected home after a long sojourn in foreign lands.  What news
+there would be to hear, and to tell!  The traveller would bring gifts
+for all.  No one would be forgotten.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One morning a post peon appeared carrying a telegram.  It was addressed
+to Pantulu's brother, Sooba, the little master, as he was called; and
+it announced that the ship had come in safely and that the passengers
+would land that afternoon.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is there anything in the telegram about the time they will leave
+Bombay?" asked the guru's attendant, as he waited to carry news to the
+great man.  Gunga handed him the message in its brown envelope.  Ten
+minutes later he returned.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The master says that they will start to-morrow probably, either by the
+morning or evening mail, according to the time it takes to clear the
+luggage through the custom house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The guru was well versed in matters temporal as well as spiritual.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When may we expect them?" asked Gunga.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It takes two nights and a day to travel from Bombay to Chirapore,"
+replied the disciple.  "If they leave to-morrow night they will be here
+on Wednesday morning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The day before the new moon!  Not a lucky day to be travelling south,"
+remarked Gunga, with a troubled expression upon her face.  "If my
+husband remembers to go out of the house in which he is staying by a
+north door, the bad luck may be averted."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He will surely think of it," observed the disciple, whose life was
+occupied in the consideration of omens.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In the joy of meeting his son it is quite possible that it may be
+forgotten.  I know that my lord will be nearly beside himself with
+delight at seeing his boy again, his only child!" she added softly,
+with a tenderness that she rarely exhibited.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That same afternoon a second telegram was received.  It said "Disperse
+guests.  Discontinue preparations for feasting and rejoicing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gunga listened speechless as her brother-in-law read it aloud.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Again," she commanded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He read it a second and a third time.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is there nothing about illness?  Is no reason given for these strange
+orders?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"None, most honourable mother of my brother's family."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Call his excellency, the swami."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The guru, full of curiosity, came at the summons without delay.  He
+read the message more than once, but was unable to throw any more light
+upon its meaning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A letter will come with full explanations," he said at last.  "Until
+its arrival the directions of the master of the house must be carried
+out.  My disciple shall tell the company of beggars who are already
+assembling that there will be no feasting.  He had better give them an
+anna apiece, which you will provide, and say that they will be called
+together again on the arrival of the master."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What can be the cause of this change?" asked Gunga, her dark eyes
+fixed with a questioning gaze upon the guru.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Illness, perhaps, or an accident."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My son is not dead!" she cried in sudden terror.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, that cannot be; nor can there be any dangerous illness.  It is
+possible that your son may have missed his ship, in which case he will
+arrive by the next mail boat a week later.  We shall learn in time.
+Meanwhile, I will go on my way to another house, where my presence is
+needed, and will hold myself in readiness to return a fortnight hence."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu's wife felt slightly relieved by the suggestion that her son
+might be coming a week later.  It was better than entertaining the fear
+that he was ill or even dead.  She accepted the situation, and set
+about carrying out her husband's directions at once.  The new clothes
+were packed away in camphor-wood boxes; the pickles and preserves were
+tied down and put in the storeroom.  The women were ordered to cease
+grinding curry-stuffs and pounding rice.  The busy household dropped
+into sudden inaction, and an unnatural silence reigned everywhere.  The
+women spoke in whispers, and the men betook themselves to the bazaar,
+or to the houses of their fellow-caste people, where they discussed the
+ominous message from Bombay without fear of being overheard by the
+stern woman who ruled the family.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama with the rest had listened as the telegram was read out.  Every
+word of it was engraven upon her brain.  She went over it again and
+again, puzzling herself to find a reason for the strange mandate.  If
+Ananda had missed his ship surely his father would have said so.  On
+the other hand, if there was illness or an accident to cause delay, it
+might easily have been told in a few words.  Some mystery lay beneath
+it.  What could it be?  Had Ananda lost his senses and become mad with
+the joy of his home-coming?  She had known cases of temporary loss of
+the senses through excessive joy or grief.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The child plucked at her saree, jealous of her abstraction.  She caught
+him up and crushed his soft little body to her heart.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thus and thus will thy father hug thee and me, my son, when he comes!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The boy, irritated at being roughly handled, beat at her with his small
+fists.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Thus and thus will I beat my father if he hurts me like that.  Let me
+go, or I will ask him to find me another mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The senseless words fell upon her ear with strange force.  What was it
+the child said?  Another mother!  Could it be possible that her husband
+had forgotten her in that foreign country, where he had lived so long?
+Was he bringing home another wife? a white woman, a hated European?
+No, no!  It was impossible!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With a stifled cry she set the child down on his feet, and he seized
+the opportunity of escaping to the kitchen, the spot he loved best.
+She was left alone, and no one heeded her; they were all too busy
+discussing the mystery of the message and attempting to discover its
+solution.  Suddenly she dropped to the ground, crouching as though some
+unseen hand were about to strike a deadly blow, her hands lifted to
+guard her head.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No! no! no!  If there were another I could not bear it.  I should
+die!" she wailed.  Then passion took hold of her.  She stuffed the
+corner of her saree into her mouth and bit it savagely.  "No, I will
+not die!  It is the strange woman who shall die!  Hear me, swami of the
+big temple!  Hear my vow.  I will live and have my own! my own!"
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap06"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER VI
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The house in which Bopaul's father lived was situated in the same road,
+about a hundred yards distant, and on the opposite side.  It was nearer
+the town, and though a substantial building, was not as large as the
+silk merchant's; nor was the compound as extensive.  A similar
+preparation had been made by the family, but not on so large or
+expensive a scale; nor had the mistress thought it necessary to go on a
+pilgrimage.  New clothes had been bought, and store-rooms were
+replenished.  The house had been repainted and decorated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was no young wife with her little son to await the coming of
+Bopaul; but his bride was already chosen, and the marriage ceremony
+would be performed as soon as the restoration of caste was
+accomplished.  She would not be present at his home-coming.  The girl
+was a stranger to him, and he had yet to make her acquaintance.  As in
+Pantulu's family, there were many relatives and dependents who
+performed the duties of servants; but claimed a right to share in the
+rejoicings as relations.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One forlorn little figure in that busy happy company was not a
+participator in the joy of Bopaul's return.  This was his own sister
+Mayita, married in her infancy to Coomara.  By Coomara's death she had
+become a widow, although she had been only a wife in name.  Her
+degradation was aggravated by the fact that her husband had died
+abroad, with the funeral ceremonies, in which she should have taken a
+certain part, unperformed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In dying out of his country the dead man was laid, as we have seen,
+under the ban of broken caste.  It was irrevocably broken, no ritual
+having ever been devised by which it could be restored.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dressed once more as a bride&mdash;this time in bitter mockery&mdash;the jewels
+had been stripped from her neck and arms; her head was shaven; the
+glass bangles of her childhood were broken upon her wrists.  Never
+would she forget, young as she was, the crash of glass as the delicate
+circles were splintered under a sharp, irritable blow that in itself
+indicated how deeply her fate was resented by the family.  The soft
+brown-and-gold saree that harmonised with her complexion was ruthlessly
+unwound with unnecessary force as she stood weeping and unresisting in
+the hands of the wailing women.  It was thrown aside as though defiled
+by contact with her half-developed form.  In place of it she was
+obliged to wear a coarse cotton cloth, with rough edges, that chafed
+her tender skin and brought her unfortunate condition constantly to
+mind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+No pity was felt for the shrinking, miserable girl as she flitted like
+a ghost about the house, avoiding with painful care young and old
+alike, lest her shadow should fall upon them and bring bad luck.  In
+the preparations for her brother's return she had no part.  When his
+eye should first fall upon her, he ought by all precedent to curse her,
+and command her to get out of his sight.  It was this thought that hurt
+her most, and caused a sharper grief than she had felt for the loss of
+her husband.  She was but thirteen years old.  A vivid memory remained
+of the brother who in old days had been invariably kind.  The longing
+to see him again was great; and many a secret tear was shed at the
+thought that she might no more bask in the sunshine of his fraternal
+love.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the caste family that is poor the widow becomes the drudge of the
+house.  It is often a blessing in disguise, if the work is not made too
+heavy, as it gives occupation for the mind.  In Bopaul's family it was
+not necessary for Mayita to occupy that position.  There were plenty of
+people to do the work, and she was not called upon to take any part in
+the household duties.  She would have been happier for a little
+employment; but she was denied both work and play.  The other children
+refused to allow her to join their games; and when she approached the
+women who ground the curry-stuffs, pounded and cleaned the rice, tended
+the kitchen fires or polished the numerous brass pots, they one and all
+motioned her away.  If she begged to be given occupation of some sort,
+they set her a task that had perforce to be executed in solitude.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She sought her mother, but here again she was repulsed; not by rough
+words, but by her parent's sighs and tears.  Bopaul's mother was a
+stout, lethargic person, who loved above all things her own comfort.
+Until her daughter was widowed she was rarely seen without a placid
+smile of content.  She still wore it at times when the misfortune was
+forgotten.  As soon as Mayita appeared the smile faded; the large,
+slumbrous eyes filled with tears, and she began her lamentations.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What sin can my daughter have committed in a former birth that such
+heavy punishment should be meted out?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then she would send her with a message to another part of the house,
+and the child knew that she was not expected to return.  If Mayita
+remained, the wailing was continued.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The sight of your widowhood is a shame to the whole house.  Such a
+misfortune can only come to those who have in some way grievously
+offended the gods."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The accusation of sin in a former birth was repeated so often that at
+last the girl became possessed with a vague sense of wrong-doing.  Its
+responsibility added to the weight already resting upon the young
+shoulders, and increased her misery.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Shortly after the receipt of the second telegram, one of the women
+belonging to Pantulu's family slipped away to carry the news to her
+neighbours.  She was received eagerly with a chorus of questions.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What news?  When do they come?  We have heard nothing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not known when they arrive."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why do you look so gloomy?  Is the news otherwise than good?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yemmah! how can I tell?  Aiyoh! to think of such a thing!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After this enigmatic speech she began to weep with the ready ease of
+the oriental.  The sensation created was gratifying to her vanity.
+There was a perfect clamour for an explanation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is it?  Speak! we are all on fire to learn!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The master has sent an order by the wire that there are to be no
+rejoicings.  Aiyoh! to think that the young excellency should return to
+his father's house without rejoicings, without feastings and
+garlandings, and without fireworks and feeding of the poor!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What says the mistress?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That there has been an accident or an illness, and that their honours,
+the master and his son are not coming.  If there is bad luck it will be
+the waning moon that will have caused it.  Next week all would have
+gone well.  What news has been received in this house?  Has the ticking
+devil sent any message?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only one.  It was written on a thin slip of paper, and it came in a
+brown envelope."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did it say?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That the young master had landed in safety, and that they would leave
+Bombay by the night mail to-morrow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And the rejoicings?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no order to forbid them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is the swami here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He and his disciple arrived last night."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Happy house!  Happy mistress of an honourable family.  She is to be
+envied."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Our excellent lady has only one trouble; it is the presence of
+Coomara's widow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What will she do about it?  It will bring misfortune on the young
+master if he meets his sister immediately on arrival."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She will be locked in the room that opens into the cowyard; and she
+will be kept there till the middle of the next day.  In the afternoon,
+when there is less fear of the frown of the gods, she may perhaps be
+permitted to see him; but only if he asks for her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Other members of Pantulu's household slipped away to carry the news to
+the neighbours.  The story was told and retold with variations till the
+whole town was agog with curiosity.  Many were the surmises, but not a
+single one came near the true solution of the mystery.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On the morning of the day when Bopaul and his father were expected a
+large crowd gathered at the railway station to learn what had happened.
+No one knew whether Pantulu would be in the same train.  It was Bopaul
+to whom they looked for news.  Friends and fellow-caste men were
+permitted on the platform, which was crowded.  A larger number, moved
+only by curiosity, assembled outside the station.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Chirapore was a terminus.  The train arrived and poured forth its load
+of travellers.  Some astonishment was caused by the sight of the large
+assembly gathered in and round the building; but the attention of
+Bopaul and his father was diverted to the recovery of personal baggage
+from the vans, and their curiosity as to the reason of so big a crowd
+was lost in anxiety to assure themselves of the safety of their
+property.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Through the crowd Pantulu and his son pushed their way hastily.  So
+hemmed in were they that they escaped observation except by a few.  In
+the hurry and bustle no attempt was made to detain them for a greeting
+which could be made with more dignity later.  Pantulu led the way,
+passing straight through the station and out into the public road,
+where stood a row of carriages for hire.  Ananda followed close upon
+his heels with his suit-case.  His two portmanteaux were carried by a
+couple of coolies and placed without delay upon the roof of a hired
+gharry.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Father and son stepped into the carriage and were driven off.  Not a
+word passed between them.  Ananda was conducted back to the home of his
+childhood in an ominous silence that chilled him and destroyed all his
+happiness.  He wondered vaguely what his father intended to do with
+him.  He was aware that he could not join the family circle, eat with
+them, take part in the daily religious worship conducted by his father
+as head of the house before the chief meal of the day.  His exclusion
+would have been insisted upon even if he had not taken the momentous
+step.  Until the restoration of caste it was imperative that he should
+lead a life apart from the rest of the family.  It would mean the
+occupation of an isolated room well away from the kitchen, the taking
+of his food in solitude, the reservation of earthen drinking vessels
+exclusively for his own use, to be destroyed afterwards.  But with all
+this there would be nothing to prevent him from meeting the male
+members of the family in that general place of assembly in all Indian
+houses, the pial or verandah.  There they could talk and he could
+relate his experiences, and the others might listen without fear of
+contamination.  This condition of affairs might last without personal
+discomfort to any one for a week or ten days, or even longer, according
+to the decree of those who conducted the ceremonies for the restoration
+of caste.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Under the altered circumstances Ananda concluded that the arrangements
+for his accommodation would be of a permanent nature, and more
+comfortable than if they were temporary.  He would be able to furnish
+his room to his liking, introducing a few western luxuries, such as an
+armchair or two, a writing-table, bookcase, a table at which he could
+sit to take his meals.  He could join the family in the pial, but
+otherwise lead his own life as he had learned to lead it in England.
+No difficulty presented itself to his mind in the arrangement; in
+truth, there was none.  Provided he did not force himself upon his
+family in a manner that would endanger their caste rules, no objection
+could be made to his staying for a time under his father's roof.  Later
+he would propose the separate house&mdash;it might be small and
+unassuming&mdash;where he could live as he pleased with his wife and child.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the midst of his speculations the noisy ramshackle vehicle drew up
+before the house.  The plantain palms and festoons of green leaves
+remained where joyful fingers had placed them.  The Venetian masts that
+were to have supported ropes of Chinese lanterns had also been left
+standing, some of them bare of decoration, others gaudy with red and
+white twists of calico.  Not a living creature was visible.  The big
+iron-studded door was closely shut.  A few small windows looking
+towards the road were screened with Venetian shutters; the pial was
+empty.  There was not even the joyous bark of a dog to welcome home the
+wanderer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu stepped out of the carriage and directed the driver to place
+the two leather portmanteaux on the steps.  He kept his back to his son
+whenever he was able, and studiously averted his gaze.  The sight of
+the wound on his son's face hurt him more than a little.  Ananda
+followed his father, and the coachman was paid and ordered to leave
+without delay.  They waited till he had retreated in a cloud of dust;
+and then Ananda, who was impatient of delay, put his foot on the first
+step of the flight that led up to the pial.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Stop!" said his father, sternly.  "Follow me!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He gave no explanation, and confined himself to as few words as
+possible.  Leading the way round to the side of the house, he entered
+the compound and conducted his son to a little outer yard into which
+opened the door of a room that had no communication with the rest of
+the building.  The room was empty, except for a thick layer of dust and
+dried leaves blown in by the wind through the open door.  A tiny,
+unglazed, unshuttered window high up under the eaves of the roof,
+admitted a little light; but at best the room was but a den, and not
+fit for the accommodation of a human being, let alone a son of the
+house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go in and wait there," said his father, shortly, as though the
+necessity of addressing his son was repugnant.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should like a chair&mdash;and a mat; and surely the room might be swept
+out with advantage," said Ananda, looking round with undisguised
+disgust.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu avoided meeting his eyes, and walked away without replying.
+Meanwhile the advent of the gharry had not been unnoticed by the
+wondering household.  The mistress herself, overcome by her curiosity,
+pressed her forehead against the Venetians to peer through a chink and
+take a look at the arrivals.  She could tell by the expression on her
+husband's face that something had happened to disturb him greatly.
+Nothing less than some serious misfortune could bring those deep lines
+upon his brow and cause the corners of his mouth to droop so ominously.
+Of one thing she assured herself with some satisfaction.  Her son was
+sound in limb and well in health; and she caught her breath in a little
+sigh of relief.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama, hugging her child close to her breast, stood behind her
+mother-in-law, listening eagerly for news.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Has the excellent father arrived?" she ventured to ask at last, unable
+to repress her curiosity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A bare affirmative was all she could elicit.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is he alone?" she asked presently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu's wife shook her head without speaking, and presently moved
+away from the window.  There was a little struggle among the women to
+secure her place.  They were disappointed.  The road and the short
+carriage-drive up to the house were empty except for a distant
+bullock-cart plodding its way to the market with a sleepy driver, who
+had eyes for nothing but his cattle.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gunga went to the back of the house.  She had not long to wait.
+Pantulu, dejected and gloomy, strode in by a door in the wall, passed
+quickly through the garden, mounted the verandah steps and, without a
+word, went straight to the front room, into which the big iron-studded
+door opened.  He greeted no one.  The men and women who had been
+waiting in the courtyard and inner rooms salaamed, but he took no
+notice of their salutations.  His wife followed him, and he asked
+gruffly for his brother.  A man some ten years younger than himself
+came forward and salaamed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All is well with my honoured elder brother!  May the gods continue to
+smile on him and all his family!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu suddenly flung his arms up and cried passionately&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am cursed!  The gods have cursed me&mdash;me and my family!'
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In what manner, most excellent master of the house?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My son has become a Christian!&mdash;my only son!  My only child!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The words rang out sharply and reached the ears of the group that had
+circled round the master of the house.  They were repeated from mouth
+to mouth with gathering consternation as the catastrophe was gradually
+realised.  Gunga heard them, and at first seemed stunned, so still and
+silent did she remain.  A groan escaped her lips, and the strong,
+shapely hands gripped the edge of her saree.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A Christian!  What do you say?  My ears have played me false.  I have
+not heard aright.  My son a Christian?  You jest, my husband!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is true!" he replied, in a dull, despairing voice that in itself
+should have been convincing if she could have brought herself to
+believe in such a thing; but she fought against it, and refused to
+entertain the idea.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who dares to say that our son has become a Christian?" she asked
+fiercely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His own tongue.  He calls himself by the accursed name, and he shows
+no shame."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A Christian! a Christian!" echoed voices round him.  "A Christian! a
+Christian!" was caught up by the women and repeated with increasing
+excitement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh!  Aiyoh!  Aiyoh!  Aiyoh!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The cry came from Gunga herself.  It dominated the chorus of
+lamentation and silenced every other tongue.  Suddenly the sound of a
+thud upon the floor startled the company.  A childish scream followed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Water! bring water!" said one of the women.  "The lady Dorama has
+fainted and let the child fall!"
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap07"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER VII
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda stood at the open door of the little room looking out at the
+view.  The earth was smiling under the tropical sun.  Birds and flowers
+responded to its tempered heat; and song and sweet odours were lavishly
+spent upon the soft air.  An oleander bush with its willow foliage
+tossed trusses of almond-scented, pink blossom, at the entrance of the
+yard.  The luxuriant vine of a gourd spread its thick leafage over a
+part of the ground enclosed.  Just outside a rose bush, laden with
+clusters of blossoms and buds, threw its thorny branches over the warm,
+sunbaked, mud wall.  A pair of tawny fritillary butterflies fluttered
+over the petals of the rose, and a blue roller bird flew across the
+sky, a living streak of brilliant azure upon the ethereal blue haze.
+Crested hoopoes ran along the base of the wall seeking ants and cooing
+softly in their contentment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Above foliage, flower and building rose the noble mountain mass in the
+distance, with its sholahs of virgin forest, its glades and slopes of
+green grass and peaks of bare grey rock.  Ananda's spirit stirred
+within him as his eye followed the familiar outline of the beautiful
+spur of the Western Ghats.  How often he had watched it under its
+different aspects and learned to love it, whether it was shrouding
+itself in a grey mantle of rain-laden vapour, or shining through a
+transparent haze of blue.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He recalled the expeditions of his youth when his father had taken him
+to the hill for the day and he had returned with the spoil of the
+forest; ferns and orchids and long supple bamboos, strange leaves and
+flowers that could not be made to grow in his own garden.  He
+remembered a tiger, caught and speared by the natives, which was
+brought in by exulting herdsmen to be shown to his father.  A hyæna was
+also carried in in like manner slung upon a green bamboo cut from the
+forest.  He remembered how tightly he had clung to his father's hand in
+his fear of the big beasts with their strong jaws hanging open and the
+formidable teeth visible; and how his father reassured him each time,
+bidding him be brave and behave like a man.  Ananda sighed; ah, he
+would show his own son the same sights, and teach him to be a man!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The thought of the child changed the current of his musings.  Where was
+the boy at the present moment?  Where was the boy's mother?  Only a
+wall or two separated them.  Why did they not come and greet him?  It
+was perfectly feasible.  There was no fear of contamination in the open
+air.  An interview might take place in the little yard or in the
+compound beyond without detriment to caste.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He listened for the sound of voices.  The house was very silent.  The
+room apportioned to his use was remote from the kitchen and women's
+quarters; but with that large family there were usually people moving
+in all parts of the building.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Nearly an hour passed and he began to grow impatient.  He went to the
+entrance of the yard and stood at the open gateway.  A man ran hastily
+round the corner of the house, his body bent under the load he was
+carrying.  It was one of Ananda's portmanteaux.  He approached the
+gateway and stopped in front of it.  Ananda looked him up and down and
+recognised him as a pariah employed as a sweeper outside the house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you doing with my luggage?" he demanded angrily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The man put down his load and prostrated himself, touching the ground
+with his forehead.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The master ordered me to bring the two leather boxes belonging to your
+honour."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not for men such as you are to touch anything belonging to a son
+of the house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The pariah put his hands together palm to palm in abject apology and
+deprecation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This lump of mud, this poor worm had no choice but to do the master's
+bidding.  He held his stick over my unprotected body, and threatened to
+beat me if I did not bring the boxes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He scrambled to his feet and ran off thankful to escape punishment from
+the owner of the trunks, and reappeared with the second.  Ananda
+directed him to leave them at the gateway.  When the man had gone he
+carried them into the room himself.  The dust flew in clouds as he set
+them down one after the other against the wall.  The neat dark suit he
+wore was stained and his fingers soiled.  Involuntarily he glanced
+round for the English washstand for means to rid himself of the
+offending dust.  He smiled at his own ridiculous expectations and
+turned to the fresh air outside, sweet and pure and refreshing, and
+cleansed his hands as well as he could on the coarse grass.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A figure approached and he recognised his uncle, Sooba Iyer.  His face
+cleared and he advanced with outstretched hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is good to see you again, my little father.  You are the first to
+greet me.  Where are the rest?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His uncle drew himself up with a gathering together of his muslin
+garments and lifted his hand with a warning gesture to arrest further
+advance.  Ananda knew the gesture well.  He had seen it often; aye, and
+practised it himself in days gone by, when accident had brought him
+near a pariah.  No reply was vouchsafed to his question, and he soon
+discovered the reason for the visit.  In abject humility the sweeper
+appeared, broom in hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sweep out the room, contemptible one!" said Sooba.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The pariah set to work at once to perform his task to the best of his
+ability, and wielded his broom till the air was thick, and a large heap
+of rubbish was accumulated.  The elder man stood silently in the
+enclosure, holding himself ready to avoid contamination by touch or
+shadow.  If there was relaxation at all it was towards the sweeper
+rather than his nephew.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know why I should be treated in this way," protested Ananda.
+"Broken caste is broken caste.  I am in no worse case as a Christian
+than I was as a Hindu with my broken caste.  The only difference is
+that one state is temporary; the other is permanent.  Surely my mother
+has some better accommodation to give me than this."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The last words were said with a touch of indignation; but they had no
+more effect in producing a reply than what had gone before.  The
+sweeper finished his work with the broom and was directed to fetch the
+things set apart for Ananda's use.  A couple of chairs, an old camp
+table, a cot laced with rope and furnished with coarse bedding.  These
+and a few other trifles were placed in the room by willing but awkward
+hands.  The pariah had had no experience in dealing with bedroom
+furniture.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Two or three times Ananda addressed himself to his uncle but his
+remarks were received in stolid silence.  His relative might have been
+deaf.  Neither by look nor speech was there any sign of reply.  By this
+time the noon was passed, and although Ananda was too much disturbed in
+his mind to feel hungry he was conscious of thirst.  As his uncle was
+about to leave after having completed the arrangement of the room, he
+said&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is some time since I had anything to drink.  I am thirsty.  Let the
+waterman bring me a pot of water and a cup."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A few minutes later the sweeper returned bearing an earthen pot of
+water and a tin mug.  He approached the door with manifest reluctance,
+well aware of the gross insult he was offering.  His touch was
+pollution, unspeakable pollution.  Sooner would a caste man allow his
+drinking vessel to come into contact with a plague-stricken corpse than
+have it touched by a pariah.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My lord! this is not my doing.  With heavy blows has this slave been
+driven here&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He was not permitted to finish the apology.  Furiously angry, Ananda
+yielded to the instinct implanted by generations of caste ancestors.
+He rushed at him, knocked the earthen vessel out of his hands and with
+a blow sent him backwards into the foliage of the gourd.  The pot broke
+and the mug rolled aside.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How dare a loathsome pariah like this son of a jackal offer me such an
+insult!  Go! get out of my sight!  Don't let me see your face again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The unfortunate sweeper fled; and the outraged man sank upon a chair.
+He leaned his arms upon the ricketty table and bowed his head.  His
+lips trembled and the fingers of both hands slowly clenched over his
+palms in his effort to control himself; for the last act had unnerved
+and shaken him.  What had he done to merit such unnecessary and
+gratuitous insult?  The caste waterman of the establishment might have
+brought the water pot and mug.  He could have entered the room without
+detriment to his own caste.  In fact, all the duties recently performed
+by the sweeper could have been done without any difficulty by the
+servants of the house, and would have been performed by them if the
+intentional degradation had not been designed expressly for his
+humiliation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda suffered keenly, as much from the unkindness and cruelty shown
+as from the insult.  It could not have happened without the consent of
+his parents.  A feeling of resentment at its injustice roused his
+indignation, and he lifted his head in angry pride.  He would not
+submit without protest.  His anger served as a tonic to his wounded
+spirit and pricked his courage.  The shining eyes hardened and the
+mouth grew firm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The day wore on without incident.  As no one appeared he determined to
+seek an interview with his father or mother or some other member of the
+family, and remonstrate against the outrageous treatment he was
+receiving.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Memory served him well; he had forgotten nothing of the geography of
+the place and he found nothing altered.  Walking slowly round to the
+front of the house he arrived at the stone steps that led up to the
+verandah.  Three or four men were seated on the masonry bench; they
+were talking together; but as soon as they caught sight of him they
+became silent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda recognised two of them as relatives and he greeted them by name
+as he mounted the steps.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish to see my father," he said with a new dignity and authority.
+"Will one of you go and say that his son awaits him in the verandah."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The request called forth no reply.  They stared at him and rose one by
+one, retiring through the big door which stood open.  He was alone,
+standing on the top step, not daring to enter the house.  Too well he
+knew all that would be involved by such an action.  The inner courtyard
+was exposed to view.  His eager eyes searched every corner for a sight
+of the figure he longed to see.  A child toddled out from the women's
+quarters.  The boy's curiosity was roused.  With the delightful absence
+of shyness and self-consciousness peculiar to Indian children the
+little fellow began to run towards him fearlessly, limping slightly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It needed no words to tell the eager father who it was.  Ananda's heart
+leaped within him, flooded with a warm wave of paternal love.  That
+beautiful boy with his rounded limbs, his smooth olive skin, his
+regular features could be none other than his son.  Pride, tenderness,
+joy rose at the thought, and he opened his arms.  Swiftly the child
+approached with growing confidence.  Swifter still followed a form that
+caused Ananda's heart to beat quicker and the blood to race through his
+veins.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was his wife.  If the boy was beautiful what was she in the first
+flush of her womanhood?  From his lips fell the one word that no other
+man had a right to call her.  "Wife!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Did she hear him?  He felt that she must have caught the word.  A pair
+of startled eyes met his as she snatched away the child.  The great
+door slammed in his face, and the vision was gone.  Was it her hand
+that struck the cruel blow?  Or had some member of the family crept up
+unseen and swung the door into its socket.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again the first sensation was a sense of injury and unmerited wrong;
+but the weakness passed more quickly this time, and it was followed by
+a just wrath.  The family had no right to treat him in this insulting
+manner, he said to himself indignantly.  He was being condemned
+unheard.  They were inhuman as well as unjust.  He felt sure that this
+treatment was not meted out with his parents' consent.  It was the work
+of his uncle, who was too fond of playing the master of the house.  He
+must see his father and have some explanation.  When his parents had
+heard the reason for the step he had taken, they would understand; they
+would become interested; and when they learned the beautiful doctrines
+of Christianity regarding the future life, they might possibly incline
+towards the new faith themselves and find comfort in the hope it
+taught.  In their ignorance of the fundamental teaching of Christianity
+his parents believed that there was an immeasurable gulf between the
+two creeds.  If they would only listen they would realise that in
+Christ was to be found the ideal and perfect manifestation of God.  His
+teaching brought hope and comfort and a sure promise of progressive
+happiness; whereas the creed of the Hindu presented nothing but a
+stagnant circle of painful rebirths.  At best it could only end in loss
+of personality, which was nothing more nor less than a hideous
+spiritual and intellectual death, more horrible to contemplate than the
+physical death.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda had not been received into the English Church without due
+instruction.  The duties of his adopted faith had been carefully
+inculcated.  He had been warned that if he met with any persecution he
+would have to bear it in a Christ-like spirit, meekly and with patience.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As he stood before the closed door meekness and patience were
+conspicuous by their absence.  The old Adam boiled within him in the
+full strength of oriental passion.  In furious wrath he beat at the
+closed door with his walking-stick.  He called his father by name, and
+other male relatives.  He tried to wrench open the wooden shutters of
+the windows; but door and windows alike resisted his efforts and left
+him exhausted.  No one answered his angry calls and impatient knocks.
+He listened but could not hear a sound.  He was opposed by a colossal
+silence that did more to crush and subdue the chafing spirit than
+torrents of abuse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Tired out, and his wrath partly spent, he gave up the attempt to summon
+a member of the household and went dejectedly down the steps, turning
+his back upon the inhospitable door of his old home.  He glanced up and
+down the road.  What should he do with himself during the remaining
+hours of daylight?  To the south-east the town clustered round the old
+fort.  He knew it well with its thronged streets and busy bazaars.  To
+the north-west stood the mountains purpling into rich shades as the sun
+approached the horizon.  A refreshing breeze blew in from the north.
+It cooled his heated face and drew him in the direction of the open
+country with a kindly welcome.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He walked towards the silent hills until the sun and its afterglow had
+disappeared.  Then he retraced his steps, his peace of mind somewhat
+restored.  He became conscious of a healthy appetite and of an
+insistent thirst for a cup of tea or coffee or a glass of milk.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He regained his room.  It was in darkness except for a small oil lamp,
+too dim to be of any use for reading purposes, that stood upon the camp
+table.  In a corner near the door was another waterpot with a tin mug.
+He did not know if the mug was the same that the pariah had defiled by
+his touch; he preferred to think that the waterman had brought both the
+pot and the mug, and under this persuasion he took a long drink.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Apparently his return was observed by the household.  Ten minutes later
+the same man, who had swept his room, appeared carrying a tray on which
+were dishes of curry with chutney and rice.  All were of the best and
+most tempting quality.  The mere smell whetted Ananda's appetite till
+he was well nigh ravenous; but he turned resolutely away whilst the
+pariah, not daring to enter the room, set the tray down on the
+threshold and vanished before Ananda could throw him thanks or abuse.
+If the truth must be told it was the latter that was on the tip of his
+tongue; but something arrested the torrent of curses and made him pause.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He did not attempt to analyse the feeling.  The just anger of an
+injured man was still dominant; but something from outside, something
+altogether new was working underneath his caste instincts.  He stood at
+the open door looking out at the starlit night, the much needed food at
+his feet.  A strange sense of detachment, of calm isolation, came over
+him, bringing an unexpected stilling of the emotional storm; it was
+almost peace.  The quiet beauty of the night stirred the memory of St.
+Paul's cathedral.  He seemed to hear the wonderful cadences of the
+organ echoing round him, pouring balm upon the senses and endowing the
+wounded spirit with strength to rise to better things above the
+passions of the soul.  By the aid of that memory he climbed out of the
+slough of despair into which he had been plunged; and a half articulate
+prayer went up to the living God for pity and help.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The crescent moon following the sun to its setting shone in the
+luminous grey-green sky.  That same moon faintly silvered the big grey
+dome of St. Paul's where the organ pealed and the choir sang the daily
+evensong.  He calculated the time.  It was about the hour for the
+service to begin.  In spirit he was back again kneeling among the quiet
+worshippers, unnoticed but not despised, repeating the wonderful prayer
+to "Our Father" that all lips can utter no matter what the creed of the
+worshipper may be.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+How long he remained standing at the door he did not know.  The smell
+of the savoury curry reached his nostrils, and appealed to a part of
+his nature that could not be ignored.  There was no doubt but that he
+was desperately hungry; and the curry was food he had not tasted for
+some time past.  It was one of the pleasures to which he was looking
+forward on his return home, as the Englishman thinks of the beefsteak.
+His mother prided herself on the excellence of her chutneys.  In the
+dim light he could see that they had been dealt out with a liberal hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly he remembered who had brought the food.  It was the despised
+pariah.  With a shudder he turned away as a European might have turned
+from carrion.  He understood why the food had been prepared so
+carefully.  It was not love but a refined cruelty that had prompted the
+serving up of such a curry.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He flung himself into a chair and passed his hand over his eyes.  The
+mud walls, unrelieved by whitewash looked black and murky.  The tiled
+roof was open and without a ceiling.  A fusty uncleanly scent of bats
+and squirrels offended him; and the rough wooden cot with its coarse
+black blankets was uninviting even to a weary man who longed for repose.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His portmanteaux and suit case remained untouched where he had thrown
+them; he had not the heart to unpack and pull out the various little
+luxuries which from long use in England were a necessity in his daily
+routine.  There was no dressing-table where brushes, combs, collar and
+stud boxes could lie; no washstand with spotless towel and pretty
+crockery to hold his sponge and soap.  If he took off his coat, no
+wardrobe nor chest of drawers was provided for its reception.  It must
+hang over the back of a chair until it was required again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The food, hot and steaming when it was brought, grew cold and less
+inviting.  He could not leave it there all night; it must be moved if
+only to allow of the door being closed when he slept.  Once more he
+went to the doorway, and this time called softly.  Immediately the same
+man appeared.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Excellency! this slave is here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Take away the food.  It has been defiled by the hand of a sweeper and
+I cannot eat it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The man obeyed without a word.  He returned and fell to the ground
+before Ananda.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The great one knows that this is not the doing of this worm.  The big
+mistress commanded it, and this slave could not do otherwise.  The
+master's brother himself held the stick over my shoulders, and when I
+protested he let it fall.  See, even by the dim light of the lamp how
+my skin is striped."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda strode out past him into the night.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Follow me; I have something to say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He walked away from the building, keeping, however, within the
+compound, which was walled in and private.  When they were at a
+sufficient distance to be secure from eavesdropping and observation
+Ananda spoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell me! who is it that gives orders?  Is it my father?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The honourable master gives no orders.  He sits silent in the front
+room without speaking."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is my mother, then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The pariah wagged his head in assent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is the big mistress aided by the excellency's brother.  He tells
+her what to say and she repeats his words to one of the kitchen women
+who delivers the orders to me.  I said to the kitchen woman that this
+was not my work.  I am paid to sweep round the house and carry away the
+refuse.  His honour's brother heard me and came towards me with his
+stick raised.  I was frightened and obeyed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you tell them that I broke the waterpot?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The pariah again made a sign in the affirmative.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did they say?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The kitchen woman told me that the small master laughed, and the big
+mistress said 'It is well.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And his excellency?  How did he receive the news?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He bowed his head and hid his face in his hands.  'It is hard on the
+boy,' she heard him say, 'and there is no necessity.'  My lord, I have
+orders to go to-morrow morning early for the coffee and rice cakes
+apportioned to your honour.  What can I do?  My lord must eat or he
+will be sick.  I am but a slave with no choice but to obey."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He put his hands together as though he prayed forgiveness.  Ananda
+paused before replying.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do as you are told," he said at last; and he spoke more gently to the
+unfortunate outcaste than he had done before.  "I can give the food to
+the crows.  They are not troubled with caste scruples," he added
+bitterly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But the young master must not starve," said the pariah, with real
+concern.  "My lord must forgive his worthless servant for speaking.
+This worm has a plan by which the master shall not starve.  To-morrow
+before it is light I will bring a herdsman with his cow and he shall
+draw the milk and deliver it into your honour's hand.  There are shops
+in the town where food may be bought in tins.  It is well known that
+people of all castes eat European biscuits in peace without defilement
+if they open the tins themselves.  The master shall buy and open for
+himself.  I will bring charcoal so that the milk may be warmed by your
+excellency and all will be well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good; let it be so," replied Ananda.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He gave the man no thanks, but there was a softness in his voice that
+satisfied him.  Ananda turned back towards the little room that was to
+serve as bedroom and sitting-room for the present, a den in which even
+a dog would have moped and pined.  A sound reached his ears causing him
+to stop.  It was a wail of grief such as the women raised on the death
+of a member of the family.  He called to the pariah.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who weeps in the house?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The big mistress and her women."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is any one of the family dead?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They weep because your excellency is not with them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is enough; go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was indeed enough!  At intervals during the night he heard the wail
+as he lay on his uncomfortable bed.  It spoke volumes.  He was dead to
+them from henceforth and worse than dead.  He was an outcaste sunk to
+the lowest depths of degradation, ranked with the "untouchables," and
+regarded with loathing as unclean and abominable.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap08"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER VIII
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu rose the following day as usual and performed his ceremonial
+ablutions.  Later in the morning when the family had dispersed he laid
+himself down in the shade of the verandah of the inner court.  His wife
+had been watching him with some anxiety.  He was too quiet, too
+wordless to satisfy her.  She would have been better pleased if he had
+broken out into loud cursings and lamentations; if he had exhibited
+irritation and temper to the rest of the household.  It would have been
+excusable if he had stormed at herself for some trifle; or dealt out
+correction to some of the younger members of the family.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She and her women had obtained relief in the wailing and tears of the
+previous night.  By the small hours of the morning every one was tired
+out and ready for sleep.  They all awoke satisfied that the atmosphere
+was clearer and their balance of mind restored.  Each went her way to
+perform her duty feeling that there was no need to waste more time in
+regret.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda's father had taken the misfortune differently.  So far he had
+found no outlet for his grief.  Throughout the long absence of his son
+he had daily and hourly looked forward to the boy's return.  Sometimes
+he had been assailed by a haunting fear lest something should happen,
+lest Ananda should die in that distant land as Coomara had done and
+never come back; lest he himself should die.  Then hope would revive
+and he would spend his idle hours picturing the home-coming and all its
+delights.  Never in any of his visions did the evil enter that had
+actually overtaken the family; and now that it had come he could not
+face it.  It hung about him like a dark shadow the depths of which he
+dared not fathom.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His wife leaned over him where he lay on a mat against the wall.  This
+feeble surrender to grief was not at all to her mind, and she had no
+intention of allowing him to take his trouble meekly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Husband, you are not well.  The kitchen woman shall make you a hot
+drink that will warm your heart."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My heart is already too hot!  I have swallowed the red-hot balls that
+Yama prepares for the cursed after death.  I want for nothing but
+relief from my pain; and who can give that?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lying here with a broken spirit will not bring relief.  It is a
+mistake to grieve while there is hope, unless it be for an hour or two
+as I and my women lamented last night.  This morning I rise refreshed
+and ready to do battle with the evil.  The struggle has begun and it
+has begun well.  The boy broke the waterpot, struck the sweeper and
+commanded him to get out of his sight.  He also refused his food last
+night.  It must have tempted him sorely for I superintended the
+preparation of it myself; and I have not forgotten his tastes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She sat down by the recumbent figure and passed her long soft hands
+over his limbs with a soothing touch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My boy went starving to bed?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As an ill-behaved son should!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He ate very little in the train, saying that he would the better enjoy
+his mother's curry.  Eiheu!" he drew in his breath and breathed it out
+in a sigh.  "He must have suffered in his hunger!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gunga's eyes flashed angrily, the lids closing quickly with an ominous
+snapping movement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let him suffer!  His troubles and his hunger have only just begun.
+They are nothing to what will follow if he remains obstinate," she said
+vindictively.  "With your brother's help we shall bring down his pride
+in time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu moved his hand as if in protestation.  "Is it necessary?  Can
+we not try other means first?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The thought of cruelties practised upon his son was unbearable.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Get up and speak to him yourself.  Perhaps he will listen and then
+there will be no need for punishment.  Point out how he has sinned, not
+only against us, his parents, but against your dead father, your
+grandfather and his father.  The shraddah ceremonies have been
+faithfully performed by you.  Through your good offices the spirits of
+your ancestors rest in peace; but when you die, who is to perform the
+rites by which your spirit will find happiness?  Your
+great-great-grandfather will not suffer; your ceremonies have released
+him; but if your son cannot and will not perform the necessary rites,
+you and three generations behind you will remain in the power of Yama
+to be plagued as the god of death wills.  What does that mean but
+rebirths innumerable to a life of suffering and degradation?  Is the
+peace of four departed members of the family to be imperilled because a
+wilful son refuses to do his duty?  He must be forced to abandon his
+strange opinions.  He must be obliged by some means or other to perform
+the rites for the restitution of his caste; and he must and shall be
+the chief mourner at the death of his father whenever that may be."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The last words rang out clearly so that they could be heard by the
+whole household.  They carried conviction to every listener.  No one
+doubted that the mother would prevail in the end.  Even Pantulu himself
+with all his weakness born of his intense love for his son admitted
+that she was right; that at all costs Ananda must be made to renounce
+his new faith.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+If no son were at hand to perform the funeral rites at his cremation
+and afterwards on the anniversary of his death, he must assuredly be
+born again as an unhappy beast of burden; or as some loathsome creature
+whose very existence was misery and against whom every man's hand was
+turned.  As Pantulu continued silent Gunga took up her parable again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When the horse is wilful it is beaten; when the bullock is obstinate
+it is goaded.  When a son is disobedient his parents use the means
+provided by the gods to bring him into subjection.  What I have done
+thus far is nothing! nothing! but before proceeding further I will
+leave my husband to exercise his authority.  Rise! be a man! be a
+father worthy of the name!  Rise and speak to him.  Show him clearly
+all that is involved in his foolish action.  Argue with him.  Aye! if
+it pleases you beg of him to consider, to have pity on his father, to
+have mercy on his mother.  If he remains obstinate have him beaten and
+starved and brought low with pain and hunger&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Woman! he is my son! my beloved child!  I hurt him once when I struck
+him in my surprise and anger.  I cannot hurt him again!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The tears welled in the haggard eyes and ran unchecked down the old
+cheeks.  She uttered an exclamation of contemptuous impatience.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are weak, too weak to lead a headstrong boy.  However, no good can
+come of lying here.  Get up and try what the tongue can do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu raised himself from the mat, shook out the crumpled folds of
+his muslin garments.  His heart ached for his son, and he was conscious
+of only one desire&mdash;to put his arms about his neck and thank the gods
+that his boy was safe home again.  His anger had evaporated in the
+ebullition with which the announcement was greeted.  Already he was
+secretly repenting that he had cursed him; and he would have recalled
+his maledictions if he could have done so without raising the ire of
+his wife.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where is he?" he asked dispiritedly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He walks at the further end of the compound."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu moved away towards the back of the house and passed through the
+garden.  He entered the grassy compound by the doorway in the mud wall
+that enclosed the garden.  At the further end from the road he caught
+sight of a figure.  With his hands behind his back Ananda stood looking
+at the mountain.  His thoughts were in the past when he and his father
+started out for the forest.  By some instinct he turned at the approach
+of the older man and fixed on him a startled gaze.  For the first time
+he noticed how Pantulu had aged.  He stooped as he walked, and dragged
+his legs listlessly.  Ananda strode forward and fell at Pantulu's feet
+as the pariah had prostrated himself the day before.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Excellent and honourable father! at last my prayer is granted, and I
+am permitted to see and speak with you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rise, my son; I am sorry you have had to wait.  Since my return I have
+not felt well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The watching woman looking through the Venetians saw the meeting and
+the son's obeisance.  "Now, if he will press the boy whilst his heart
+melts within him, he may bring him to reason," she said to herself.
+She called to her brother-in-law.  "See! my husband brings his son to
+the house.  They will come into the verandah.  Quick! hide beneath the
+window that is behind the bench where he usually sits.  Listen to all
+that is said and bear it in mind.  I must know every word that passes
+between them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Pantulu and Ananda moved towards the house the former asked if the
+other had breakfasted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I had some biscuits," replied Ananda.  He thought it wiser not to
+mention the milk lest he should get the pariah into trouble and stop
+the supply.  "I cannot eat food sent by the hand of the sweeper."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is impossible!" murmured Pantulu with a shudder.  "Ah!  I am glad
+that my boy has not been obliged to defile himself in that way.  For
+drink, what have you done?  Have you found means to satisfy your thirst
+without defilement?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That also I have accomplished."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your mother must not know."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is by my mother's orders that I am thus treated?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is done by the consent of the whole family, not by the mother
+alone," said Pantulu, unwilling to hurt Ananda's feelings.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are ruler in your own house, excellency.  Order one of the women
+servants to attend upon me.  It hurts the caste of no one to carry food
+to the outcaste."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Inside the house your mother rules, as is the custom among families
+like ours.  I cannot interfere; but I can speak to her and ask her to
+give the order.  If I can take good news she may listen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good news; what does that mean?" asked Ananda.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That you will give up your strange madness and allow the caste
+restoration ceremonies to take place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda did not reply.  His father's eyes searched his face with
+undisguised anxiety for sign of a favourable response.  He only saw a
+tightening of the lower lip and slight protruding of the jaw with an
+unconscious toss of the head.  He remembered the trick of old and all
+that it implied.  The deep underlying obstinacy that had ever been the
+one fault of the boy was still there ready to uphold new beliefs,
+prematurely formed in his father's opinion and without sufficient
+consideration.  His heart sank within him and he was silent during the
+rest of the way.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They arrived at the house and mounted the steps that led up to the
+front door.  The door was closed and the verandah was empty.  Pantulu
+took his seat upon a broad bench and drew his feet up beneath him.  It
+was as Gunga had said, just under a window.  He signed to his son to
+sit on the same bench by his side.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No harm will have been done by your having called yourself a Christian
+in a foreign land," continued Pantulu, resolutely looking away from his
+companion's face, that he might not be discouraged by what was so
+manifest there.  "The ceremonies will be of a character to restore you
+even if you have sinned greatly.  I have money enough to satisfy the
+purohits.  There are worse offences than the one you have committed.
+You have not killed a Brahman, for instance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I told you, oh excellent father, that having taken this step there is
+no going back," said Ananda, at last, in a low voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I say there is; there must be a going back.  Your deeds can be undone,
+expiated.  Listen!"  Pantulu controlled his excitement and continued
+more quietly.  "Listen, my son.  Let me put before you all that it
+means if you refuse to come back to us.  Who is to perform the funeral
+rites at my death if you cannot be chief mourner?  Are they to be left
+unperformed?  Is my spirit to wander as a wretched ghost and be born
+again as an unhappy contemptible pariah or beast because my son refuses
+to fulfil his duties?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will never be born again on this earth, my father; you will never
+become a man or a beast again," cried Ananda, his eyes aglow with
+enthusiasm.  "The man-God of the Christians came to open men's eyes to
+better things, to assure the world of immediate pardon for sin, and to
+promise a happiness after death far exceeding any earthly happiness.
+Think what a glorious future He offers to us in place of the hopeless
+cycles of rebirths."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu shook his head in perplexity, not without fear at the blasphemy
+against Hinduism that fell upon his startled ears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Our faith was ancient before ever the man-God of the Christians was
+born.  Were the millions, who lived and died before His time, living
+and dying in error?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They lived and died according to the light given to them by God.  When
+Christ was born, a new light came into the world.  It is by following
+the new light that I have found my hope in a glorious future, an
+existence of joy and happiness surpassing even the Nirvana itself; for
+we shall retain our personality and consciousness which is denied to
+those who look for absorption in the Hindu Deity.  Try and realise the
+joy that you and I, my beloved father, will feel when we meet in that
+golden future.  At Coomara's death I was in despair.  Every time I
+heard a dog shriek or saw a horse overloaded and beaten, I thought of
+my friend suffering similar pains; and all for no fault of his!  It was
+intolerable in its injustice; I could not bear it.  Then I met the
+family of an Englishman who was killed suddenly; and I wondered at
+their peace, their resignation, their perfect faith in his happiness
+and their belief in a future meeting.  When I found that the secret lay
+in their religion what could I conclude but that their religion must be
+better and more advanced than mine?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu had listened unwillingly at first and with prejudice; gradually
+his curiosity was aroused; he wanted to learn what it was that had
+attracted Ananda and taken so strong a hold upon him.  Moreover the
+charm of hearing his son's voice once more exercised a kind of hypnotic
+influence, causing him almost to forget the vital issues of their
+conversation and their variance of opinion.  There was comfort also in
+proximity.  The poor old man found delight in the mere touch of his
+boy's hand.  Nothing could kill the paternal love that had filled
+Pantulu's life.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the distance he heard his wife speaking sharply to one of her women
+in the kitchen.  The sound made him start guiltily.  What had he been
+doing?  Listening to rank heresy instead of preaching orthodoxy.  He
+pulled himself together with an effort.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My son, the Christian faith may be all very well for Christians.  We
+are Hindus, born, by a fate over which we have no control, in the Hindu
+faith.  The faith is bound up with our social and political laws and
+cannot be separated.  Let me point out to you how important it is that
+you should make no change.  If by remaining an outcaste you cannot
+fulfil the part of chief mourner at my death, the law of caste&mdash;and it
+is upheld by our country's law&mdash;disinherits you, You cannot inherit any
+of my wealth, my lands, my houses, my looms, my silk farms, my jewels
+and hoard of silver.  Not a single rupee will be yours if another hand
+drops the rice and butter into the fire before my dead body immediately
+after death; if another bears the pot of fire in my funeral procession;
+if another lights the funeral pile.  Would you wish to lose your
+birthright, the riches that should be yours, the honour as head of one
+of the oldest and most respected families of Chirakul?  Would you
+deliberately make yourself a pauper, an outcaste, despised even by the
+pariahs?  Consider well all that you propose to sacrifice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Once more Pantulu gazed anxiously into his boy's face for a sign that
+he relented, that his pleading had prevailed; and his heart sank within
+him as he noted the tightening of the lower lip and the obstinate tilt
+of the chin.  Again he spoke, repeating the old arguments, enumerating
+the property that should one day belong to his son; but without avail.
+At length Ananda made a kind of response in putting a question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I do not take upon myself the duties of chief mourner, on whom do
+they fall?" he asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"On your son."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And the child will inherit your fortune?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Everything; and as soon as he comes of age he will take my place in
+the family councils and you will be as one that has died in a foreign
+land."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda rose to his feet intimating that as far as he was concerned the
+interview was at an end.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your answer, my son! your answer! what news am I to carry to your
+mother?" cried Pantulu, in sudden dismay, as he realised two facts&mdash;his
+son was leaving him, and he had failed miserably in his attempt to win
+him back.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have nothing to say that has not been already said."  Ananda spoke
+with evident pain.  It grieved him to wound his father by refusing to
+comply with his wishes.  He knew of what vital importance it was to a
+Hindu to have the assurance that the funeral rites would be duly
+performed by a fitting and proper member of the family; and he found
+the greatest difficulty in maintaining his honesty of speech.  The
+temptation to temporise was strong.  "It is impossible, even if I
+desired it, to re-establish my faith in the Hindu teaching concerning
+the future life.  It is a miserable groping in the dark, a wilful
+blinding of the eyes; the whole thing is a relic of the ancestor
+worship of a barbarous people not worthy of our nation with its present
+civilisation.  I must have something better&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My son! my son!" interrupted his father in an agony of disappointment
+and grief.  "It is killing me!  Have mercy on me!  My life is bound up
+in yours!  I cannot live without you!  Keep your beliefs secretly if
+you will, but I beg, I pray you conform outwardly to the faith of your
+ancestors.  In their names I command you to come back and do your
+duty&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The door of the house opened and Gunga came out confronting her son for
+the first time since his return.  Ananda put the palms of his hands
+together and repeated his greeting mechanically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"May the gods protect you, most excellent and beloved mother!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She received the salutations with an exclamation of contempt.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Call me not mother!  Unhappy woman that I am to have given birth to
+such a breaker of our most sacred laws.  Go! get out of the house which
+you have dishonoured!  See!" she pointed to Pantulu, who had drooped
+where he sat till he seemed to crouch in abject misery.  "See how he is
+stricken!  It is the hand of a wicked son who has dealt the blow.  May
+that hand be accursed!  May its owner be condemned to cycles of
+wretched rebirths!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She poured out a string of curses upon him and he fled.  Obstinate yet
+strangely craven, he clung desperately to the new faith which alone
+held out a promise of salvation from the awful fate invoked by his
+mother.  Her very maledictions drove him to his new leader Christ.  His
+father's entreaties only placed before him anew the tenets that had
+filled him with such horror.  Already he had had experience of the
+persecution he was likely to meet with if he persisted in his adherence
+to Christianity.  He shrank from physical pain with the timidity of a
+child; but for all that he preferred to face the ills of this life to
+the terrors of the Hindu life to come.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With his heart thumping like a hammer he regained his room and sat down
+to collect the thoughts scattered by the sudden and unexpected
+onslaught made by his mother.  His spirit rose in a wordless prayer; it
+seemed to steep itself in the new light, and again he was sensible of a
+blessed peace that soothed and calmed his disordered mind.  His courage
+returned, and he deliberately set himself to recall his father's words.
+What was it that he had said about disinheritance?  He must have made a
+mistake.  The solution of the difficulty would be found in the making
+of a will.  His father must have a proper will drawn up by which his
+son was named as his heir.  He must have another interview.  On second
+thoughts perhaps it would be better to write his request.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Taking out his writing case he set to work at once.  The time slipped
+by without his knowledge.  He looked at his watch; it was three
+o'clock.  The sweeper did not appear and no food was sent.  The
+omission did not trouble him.  Again he satisfied his hunger with
+biscuits and tried to forget his thirst.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The sun set and the tropical night approached.  He listened for the
+step of the despised pariah, but the man did not come to perform any of
+his duties.  The excitement of the journey and return home had worn
+off, and Ananda was conscious of an oppressive dullness.  He lighted
+the dim oil lamp and a little later lay down on his cot.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He was in a sound sleep when he was awakened by the falling of some
+little stones near the cot.  A whisper reached his ears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Excellency! the cow is here.  Come for your milk."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda rose at once and crept out of his room in silence.  He followed
+the pariah to the wall that divided the compound from the road.  A
+herdsman of his own caste handed him a bottle of milk over the wall,
+just drawn from the cow for which he paid him the current price with a
+small sum in addition for his trouble in bringing the cow at such an
+hour.  The man went away immediately.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Excellency, no food was sent to-day by my hand," said the sweeper.
+"It did not matter since your honour could not eat it; but the meaning
+of such treatment must be understood.  The big mistress hopes to starve
+your excellency into obedience.  This she can only do when there is no
+more money left in your honour's moneybag.  Be careful of your rupees.
+I can bring the cow but I cannot bring rupees and the cow will not come
+without the rupees."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The man mounted the wall with the intention of returning to his home.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why did you not come to-day to sweep the yard?" asked Ananda.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was forbidden by the big mistress.  The order has been given that no
+one is to speak with your honour or approach your room.  To-morrow
+night I will come and bring the herdsman with his cow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The following morning Ananda wrote another letter which he posted
+himself in the town.  It was addressed to Dr. Wenaston, Principal of
+the College of Chirapore; and the long epistle he had prepared for his
+father remained in his writing case undelivered.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap09"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER IX
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A soft, balmy air brushed the blossoms of the eucharis lilies, and
+swept over the delicate green maidenhair fern growing under the shade
+of the verandah of the Principal's house.  Out in the broad sunshine
+the blue ipomea, the morning glory of the Indian garden, opened its
+mass of azure blooms and spread a gorgeous mantle over the bamboo
+trellis that supported it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The plump rounded figure of Mrs. Hulver, Dr. Wenaston's housekeeper,
+appeared on the raised verandah, followed by the butler.  She was a
+widow and had been married three times, a fact that no one of her
+acquaintance was permitted to forget.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her father was a British soldier of Scotch birth; and her mother a
+Eurasian.  In her youth Maria had some pretensions to good looks.  It
+was the prettiness of youth so often seen where the blood of the east
+and the west is mixed.  Her small regular features and olive complexion
+could make no claim to beauty in her mature middle age, when her figure
+had lost its delicate proportions and gained in amplitude.  The eyes
+alone were unaltered.  She had her Scotch father's grey eyes with his
+keen glance.  Nothing escaped them, as the servants knew by experience;
+and when they failed to elucidate a domestic mystery her inherited
+shrewdness came to her assistance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At the age of sixteen a marriage was made for her by her mother, who
+chose a prosperous and not over-scrupulous overseer in the Public Works
+Department named William Delaine.  He was more than double the age of
+his bride; and had lived long enough to put together a nice little
+property in houses and land.  There were no children, and when he died
+ten years later he left everything to his widow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her second marriage was to an Englishman, whose regiment was stationed
+at Bangalore.  Corporal William Smith was a reserved man of a
+thoroughly British temperament, endowed with a rugged honesty that
+despised any sort of evasion of the truth in speech or action.
+Uncompromisingly straightforward he did much to carry on the early
+training of Maria's mind begun by her father.  She was very happy with
+William Smith in a placid way, and bore him a son who was educated in
+the barrack-school and in due time drafted into the drummer-boy corps
+attached to the regiment.  Later the boy enlisted and followed in the
+footsteps of his father.  William Smith was about to take his pension
+and return to England when he was struck down with malarial fever; and
+for the second time in her life Maria became a widow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her third husband was an Irish soldier who had been pensioned and
+elected to remain in the country.  He also bore the name of William.
+Being of a good-natured domesticated disposition, Hulver cast his eyes
+round the large domiciled European and Eurasian community in Bangalore
+for a suitable wife.  Mrs. William Smith seemed in every way the woman
+to fill the position.  She was of the right age, unencumbered by
+children except for the one son who was provided for.  In addition she
+owned a nice little property which, with his pension, would make life
+easy and comfortable.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A little hitch at one time seemed likely to upset his plans.  It was a
+matter of religion.  Hulver was a Roman Catholic.  Maria belonged to
+the English Church.  He made an effort to bring her over to his side,
+but she stood firm; and sooner than lose so desirable a partner he
+joined her Church.  They were very happy, but unfortunately he did not
+live long, and for the third time she was widowed.  After his death she
+found life very dull.  She determined to take a situation as
+housekeeper and advertised in one of the big Indian daily newspapers.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola Wenaston, who came out with her brother on his appointment as
+Principal of the College of Chirapore, saw the advertisement and
+engaged her.  The arrangement proved highly satisfactory to both.
+During Dr. and Miss Wenaston's six months' holiday in England Mrs.
+Hulver occupied one of her own houses at Bangalore.  The enforced
+idleness was not at all to her mind, and she welcomed their return with
+unmixed joy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In her holiday she replenished her wardrobe by the aid of a tailor.
+The new muslins and white drill frocks were cut exactly on the old
+pattern&mdash;a skirt that gave plenty of room and spread like a bell over
+her feet; a bodice that showed no fashionable bulge in sleeve or
+shoulder but confined her figure decently and comfortably.  White linen
+collar and cuffs and neatly fastened waistband completed her daily
+costume.  On Sunday Mrs. Hulver was another person.  Her silks "stood
+alone," as she herself expressed it; and the flowers of her bonnet
+would have covered half a market stall had they been real.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver stood on the top step under the large portico, her clean
+white skirt extended with starch, her hands folded and a severe
+expression on her face.  Ramachetty, the butler, a middle-aged
+under-sized native with an apologetic manner, fidgeted behind her in
+evident discomfort.  She addressed him in English over her shoulder.
+The native tongue was perfectly familiar; it had been her own in her
+mother's house; but she chose English as being more in keeping with her
+dignity as a housekeeper and it assisted to maintain her character as
+an Englishwoman, which she was not.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Call the gardener," she said, with a clear enunciation and very little
+Eurasian accent.  From her father and two of her husbands she had
+picked up a curious mixture of expressions.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Probably the summons was expected; for the gardener appeared from
+behind the bungalow with the abruptness of a jack-in-the-box.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell him to bring the pots of roses here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Out came a fat forefinger that pointed to the spot and remained
+pointing.  Ignoring the fact that the gardener understood English the
+butler translated the order into the language of the country.  The man
+hurried away, and by the aid of an assistant brought twelve large pots
+of roses.  They were solemnly placed in a row under the portico on the
+spot to which the finger pointed.  Seven of the plants bore double pink
+blossoms.  The remaining five had crimson flowers of the kind known as
+the China rose, a stock upon which the Indian gardener buds the better
+class of plant.  There was an ominous silence during which Mrs. Hulver
+looked from the roses to the gardener and back again at the roses.
+Then she spoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Two years ago our missie bought twelve pink <I>France</I> roses with a
+sweet smell.  How is it that five of them have turned red and lost
+their smell."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The gardener chattered fast in his own tongue.  He explained that
+during the absence in England of the master and the missie there had
+been strange kind of weather.  The weather had poisoned the flowers and
+made them turn colour and lose their scent.  This preposterous
+statement was too much for Mrs. Hulver's dignified patience.  She
+abandoned her high-class English and let herself go in the native
+tongue.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+How dared he tell her such a tale!  Whoever heard of the weather
+changing the colour of flowers?  Was it the rain or the sun?  It was
+neither; the mischief was done in the night, stoutly maintained the
+gardener.  Then, as she kept an incredulous silence, he asked
+querulously, if it was any stranger than that carriages should run
+along the road without horses, and messages be sent without messengers.
+Were the English to be the only wonder-workers?  Could not the gods of
+India&mdash;&mdash;?  She cut him short.  While he chattered she had framed her
+line of conduct.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no wonder about the business except that the master keeps
+such a budmash on the premises.  If the plants had been properly
+watered and tended in the master's absence, the weather would not have
+affected them.  It is only neglected plants that are affected by bad
+weather."  She paused to allow her grey eye to rest upon him; and he
+shifted uneasily from one foot to the other under her scrutiny.  "Do
+you hear, gardener?  They must be nursed back to their proper
+condition.  There will be a fine of one rupee for each pot.  As soon as
+they recover, the fine will be returned; but until the twelve roses
+bear proper double pink flowers with full, good smell the money will be
+stopped out of your pay.  Each pay-day before giving the wages I shall
+come and look at the roses."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The fat finger was withdrawn.  Mrs. Hulver turned slowly round and
+sailed back into the bungalow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What were you scolding the gardener for?" asked Eola, after she left
+the breakfast-room and sought the house-keeper to consult with her on
+the day's menu.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I had to talk to him, miss.  He has been misbehaving himself while I
+have been away.  Five of those <I>France</I> roses that you are so fond of
+are missing, and China plants put in their places."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My beautiful <I>La France</I> roses gone!" cried Eola, with regret.  "I
+suppose he let them die by neglecting to water and has put others in
+the pots thinking we should not discover the loss."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not he! the spalpeen!  He has changed them&mdash;sold the good ones and
+stolen some common plants to fill up with."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did he say for himself when you accused him of it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's just what I didn't do miss; I took care not to make any
+accusation.  As William&mdash;that was my second&mdash;used to say, 'Think all
+you like but keep your thoughts to yourself if you want to get even
+with a bad man.'  I kept my thoughts to myself; and when the gardener
+had the impudence to tell me that the weather had turned the roses from
+pink to red, I said that if he didn't nurse them back to their right
+colour you would fine him.  They will all return," she continued
+confidently; "You will have your dozen favourites in a few weeks' time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola was accustomed to Mrs. Hulver's methods of ruling the
+establishment, and knew better than to interfere, although she did not
+approve of mulcting her servants of their pay.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Supposing he has sold them; what will you do then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He'll steal them back or buy them back for a small sum.  Trust him for
+finding out a way to save himself from a big fine such as we shall
+insist on!  As William&mdash;that was my first&mdash;used to say (he was
+country-born and knew the native): 'Give them a chance of straightening
+things, and they'll do it as soon as they know that you've found them
+out; and they will respect you all the more for obliging them to be
+honest.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If the gardener is dishonest perhaps it would be better to dismiss him
+and get another."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Gardeners in these parts go with the houses; and like husbands you've
+got to put up with them.  Besides, it is my experience that you may
+change and change, whether it's a servant or a husband, and find
+yourself no better off and no worse off in the end, provided you don't
+have extraordinary bad luck.  They're as like in their separate ways,
+both servants and husbands, as the cocoanut trees.  The only difference
+you can see in the cocoanut trees is the way they stand.  One will lean
+to one side and another to the other side, and no two will lean just
+alike.  As William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;(he was born in Ireland) used to
+say: 'Maria, me dear!  God made us men as we are; and if it weren't for
+the trials that we bring ye, ye'd just grow yer wings and fly away; and
+then, bedad! where should we poor men be widout ye?'  He had a nice
+pleasant way with him, but it was balanced by his fondness for drink;
+for <I>that</I> was the way he leaned."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola brought the conversation back to the business of the morning and
+began to discuss the lunch and dinner.  Ramachetty and the cook were
+called, and the orders for the day given.  She sat down at her writing
+table and entered the daily marketing account in the book kept for that
+purpose.  The butler stood at her elbow on the right and Mrs. Hulver
+took up her position on the left.  There was never any deviation from
+this little domestic ritual.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The butler proceeded with his list of purchases; firewood, ghee,
+soup-meat, mutton, potatoes, fish, eggs, naming the price of each.
+Once Mrs. Hulver coughed, and he corrected himself, taking off half an
+anna.  At another item she moved from one foot to the other, but
+remained silent.  He paused, and as the warning note of the cough was
+not sounded, he passed on to the next entry, letting the overcharge,
+which was very small, stand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Carrots, two annas," he continued.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Carrots!" ejaculated Mrs. Hulver sharply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Carrots, two annas," repeated the butler, sticking manfully to his
+story.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Fetch them!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The cook who was waiting behind the butler ran off to the kitchen and
+returned with four limp dry roots which he exhibited with many
+misgivings.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Six-day-old carrots," commented Mrs. Hulver, with fine scorn.  "They
+were entered in the account last Friday.  Cross off 'carrots, two
+annas,' please, miss."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The butler accepted the correction without another word, and proceeded
+to the end of his list.  Eola would willingly have dispensed with some
+of the details, but Mrs. Hulver was inexorable.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It must be done, miss," she had said in reply.  "As long as you can
+hold a pen you must take down the daily account.  If by any chance you
+were ill then I should be obliged to do it; but Ramachetty and I shall
+remain better friends if I have nothing to do with the bookkeeping."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have something to do with it, Mrs. Hulver.  You check his attempts
+at cheating."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I keep them down to reasonable proportions.  As William&mdash;that was my
+second (he was a very straight-minded man)&mdash;used to say: 'Keep others
+honest and they'll keep you up to the mark.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When the accounts were finished and the butler and cook dismissed, Eola
+turned to her housekeeper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mrs. Hulver!" she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, miss."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a slight pause, during which Eola turned back again to the
+writing-table.  The pen was still in her hand and wet with ink.  In
+absence of mind she dotted the margin of the account book, her thoughts
+far away.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, miss," repeated Mrs. Hulver, whose grey eyes searched Eola's face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah! yes!  What was I going to say?  Oh!  I know.  I wanted to tell you
+that we have a visitor coming."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver was not so easily deceived.  Miss Wenaston had not
+forgotten the subject of her communication, and the news she was about
+to impart was no news to her housekeeper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who is it?" asked Mrs. Hulver, innocently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dr. Wenaston has invited Mr. Alderbury to come and stay here a few
+days.  He has business in Chirapore.  Will you see to the spare room.
+I brought out new curtains and chintz to re-cover the sofa and chairs.
+Set the dirzee to work at once."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It shall be begun this very day.  I was only thinking about it
+yesterday afternoon when I came in from the town.  It's more than a
+month since you came back, miss; and those curtains have been lying by
+ever since you unpacked them.  As William&mdash;that was my first&mdash;used to
+say (he was a great man for show, being a Eurasian and a good deal
+darker than me): 'When you've got fine feathers, don't hide them.'
+What brought the spare room to my mind was Mr. Alderbury's name.  I
+heard that it would be likely that he would be coming to Chirapore
+before long."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you?" asked Eola, looking round at her housekeeper in surprise.
+"I suppose you heard it in the bazaar.  I don't know how these things
+get about, but in this country nothing is sacred from bazaar gossip.
+What do they say?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The business of the Reverend Mr. Alderbury is connected with Ananda,
+the son of Pantulu Iyer, a rich native of this town.  Perhaps you know
+the story.  If so, I'd better be going as there is lots to be done this
+morning, and the dirzee is never in the way when he is wanted."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver spoke with an injured tone and a misjudged expression on
+her smooth round olive face.  She was an inveterate gossip, and her
+visits to the shops and market were prompted as much by curiosity to
+hear the news as to verify the butler's charges.  Nothing hurt her more
+than to imply a knowledge of this weakness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had a little sitting-room that opened into the back verandah.  The
+door was seldom shut in the daytime.  From a point of vantage in the
+doorway she superintended the tailor, and kept an eye on all that went
+on in the back verandah.  She made as though she would seek her room
+with as little delay as possible.  Eola, repentant that she had hurt
+her feelings by remarks about the bazaar gossip, softened in her manner
+and begged to hear the news.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do tell me, Mrs. Hulver, what they say.  I have not heard anything
+except that Mr. Alderbury is coming by the Doctor's invitation.  My
+brother only spoke of his visit this morning when he received Mr.
+Alderbury's reply to the invitation.  The Principal was late in getting
+home from his ride, and had to hurry over breakfast to be in College in
+time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The housekeeper was mollified and the dirzee forgotten in her eagerness
+to relate the news that was already thrilling the town.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The story goes in the bazaar that Pantulu's son has turned Christian,
+and the whole family is in a great taking about it.  They don't know
+what to do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is that all?  There is nothing much in that.  Of course it is a good
+thing when a native becomes a Christian; but in these days it is not a
+matter to make a fuss about."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver regarded her seriously.  She had expected to create
+something of a sensation by the announcement, but Eola took it as a
+trifle hardly worth mention.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Begging your pardon, miss, there is a great deal in it to create a
+fuss; and what is more the whole town is working itself up into a
+ferment over it.  They say that they have never had a caste man go
+Christian before.  The Christians have always been pariahs and they
+have no caste to matter.  As William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say:
+'Change your clothes; change your food; change your house if you like;
+but to change your religion is the very divil;' and he knew; for he'd
+been a Roman Catholic and he turned Protestant to marry me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did you manage to persuade him?" asked Eola, her mind once more
+adrift.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver was always ready to talk incidentally of her late spouses.
+At the same time she never lost sight of the subject that caused the
+digression.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He wanted me to change my religion; but I was firm.  I told him that
+if he couldn't take me as I was he might go without me.  I could get on
+without him.  Besides it was only right that he should be the one to
+change, being the gentleman; it is the gentleman that ought to give way
+to the lady all the world over."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And he fell in with your suggestion?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was the bit of property that did it, though he didn't admit it,"
+replied Mrs. Hulver confidently, the shrewdness of her Scotch ancestry
+peeping out.  "He was drawn to me by two strings, myself for one, and
+my little fortune for the other.  As William&mdash;that was my first, him
+that left me the property&mdash;used to say: 'It's money that gives you the
+pull when the balance is even.'  But as I was telling you; this son of
+Pantulu Iyer has gone and changed his religion and stirred up a bees'
+nest of buzzing in the town."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Was it Mr. Alderbury's doing?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; he had nothing to say in the matter; it was all done without his
+knowledge.  Pantulu sent his son to England to finish his education;
+and while he was there, so the tale goes, he saw a very bad accident.
+One of these elevators, these flying men," she explained, as she noted
+a puzzled expression on Eola's face, "fell at his very feet and struck
+down his friend, a native gentleman who was walking with him."  Already
+the story had gathered fiction in its passage from mouth to mouth.
+"The elevator was killed on the spot; but the friend had time to make a
+last request, and it was that Ananda should become a Christian.  He
+never said a word to his people, but got it done on the quiet and
+registered and everything.  It gave his father a terrible shock; it
+nearly killed the poor old gentleman when his son came back and told
+him what had happened.  He is a very rich man and would give a crore of
+rupees to have the mischief undone.  But as William&mdash;that was my
+second&mdash;used to say: 'Mind your doing, because as a rule there's no
+undoing.'  In this case there can't be any undoing.  Once a Christian
+always a Christian, unless you want to burn."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I remember Ananda and his friends in London," said Eola, "I was at
+that very meeting and saw the man fall.  Coomara was not killed by the
+aviator, but in a railway accident as he was returning to town."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Anyway he was killed," replied Mrs. Hulver.  "His death affected his
+friend and made him feel so bad that he turned Christian.  The poor
+young man is having a very rough time with his people.  They are
+determined to knock the Christianity out of him; and it will be a
+pretty stiff fight if he has any spirit.  It is said in the bazaar that
+Mr. Alderbury is coming in from the district to see if he can smooth
+matters down a bit.  As William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say: 'Let's
+have peace if it's possible; but if it must be war, let's fight to the
+finish! and make it a good one!'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He didn't practice what he preached; he gave in," remarked Eola,
+unable to resist poking fun at her devoted housekeeper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver smiled broadly, and was quite ready with her answer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You see, miss, there was the lady in the case, meaning me, I can't
+deny but what William, my third, found the change of religion
+troublesome.  It meant new habits and a new grip of the thing.  He was
+never satisfied, and always had the feeling that he had played the
+turncoat.  The trouble was at Christmas time when his weakness overtook
+him.  His leaning was towards whisky, being an Irishman.  It was
+expensive whilst it lasted.  As William&mdash;that was my second&mdash;used to
+say (he was a teetotaller): 'One vice will cost more than twenty
+virtues.'  In his old religion my third used to go to his priest when
+the fit was over, and get square with himself by a proper penance; but
+when he changed he didn't quite know where he was with himself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You should have made him give it up altogether," suggested Eola.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was born and bred in him, and he couldn't have given it up to save
+his life.  As William&mdash;that was my first&mdash;used to say when I complained
+of his Eurasian ways: 'You mustn't expect a wild goose to lay a tame
+egg.'  William my third could no more help being weak at Christmas than
+a child can help over-eating itself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Didn't it worry you to have him break out?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I don't know that it did," replied Mrs. Hulver, placidly.  "It had
+its advantage.  As William&mdash;that was my first&mdash;used to say when he and
+his contractor settled their accounts: 'Everything has its advantage if
+you know where to look for it.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What advantage could your husband's bout of drinking have for you?"
+asked Eola, glancing at her in mild wonder.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It gave me my chance of speaking.  When he recovered and could listen
+to reason, even though his poor head ached badly, I had the opportunity
+of letting him have a bit of my mind, and of telling him some home
+truths I never could have put before him at any other time.  Now with
+William, my second, it was different.  He was always ready to come up
+to attention at a moment's notice.  Stiff and straight, he lived by
+rule; and the whole time I was with him I never once got the chance of
+emptying my mind."  Her voice had a distinct ring of regret in it as
+she made the confession.  "I tried it two or three times; but the
+moment I began he rose from his chair and drew himself up haughty and
+proud, just like his colonel when the men came to the orderly room with
+their complaints.  He heard what I had to say in a dead silence, that
+sort of cooled you down, and all he replied was: 'I'll look into the
+matter, Maria, and see what can be done;' and there it ended.  With
+William, my third, it was a real pleasure to rate him.  He was such a
+gentleman in his repentance and his apologies.  But as I was telling
+you, miss, about this poor young man, Pantulu Iyer's son.  I can
+sympathise with him in his change of religion as I sympathised with
+William, my third.  It will take some time before he will get even with
+himself in his new faith."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The cases are not on all fours, Mrs. Hulver."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; they are at sixes and sevens if all I hear is true.  As
+William&mdash;that was my second&mdash;used to say: 'Keep things straight and
+you'll be master; but let them get at sixes and sevens and they will
+master you.'  He made a great study of his fellowmen and was full of
+wise sayings.  I felt very lonely when he died."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did he die of?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Microscopes; the doctor said he swallowed some when he was out route"
+(she called it rowte) "marching.  They were in the water that he drank
+by the roadside.  They gave him fever which carried him off in three
+weeks, and left me a widow for the second time."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap10"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER X
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was one subject alone on which Miss Wenaston and her housekeeper
+disagreed.  It had nothing to do with the management of the house.  It
+was marriage.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver having entered the bonds of matrimony three times
+considered that she was entitled to speak with authority on the
+condition of wifehood and widowhood.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola Wenaston was twenty-seven years of age and unmarried.  When Mrs.
+Hulver had reached that number of years she had been a wife for a
+decade, and had entered upon her first period of widowhood.  Although a
+British father had done much to form her character, her Eurasian mother
+had instilled certain opinions to which she firmly adhered.  One fixed
+belief, as strong as any article of her faith, was that every woman
+ought to be married.  It was the duty of relatives and guardians to
+forward that end; it was even still more the duty of the woman herself
+to attract and secure the best husband available without immodesty.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Wenaston she found sadly wanting in self-help.  Dr. Wenaston, her
+brother, was a very busy and sometimes overworked man.  He did his best
+in Mrs. Hulver's opinion when he invited men to his house.  His
+efforts, conscious or unconscious&mdash;Mrs. Hulver was not sure which&mdash;were
+not supported as they should have been by his sister.  She made no
+attempt to attract in dress or manner.  She was content to wear the
+same dinner-dress that served when she and her brother were alone; and
+she did not hesitate to allow Dr. Wenaston to absorb all the
+conversation if he chose, remaining silent through the dinner and
+perhaps through the whole evening as well.  This was altogether a
+mistake, as Mrs. Hulver tried in vain to point out more than once.
+Eola listened in perfect good nature, but her replies were not
+encouraging, and the housekeeper was vaguely conscious that she was
+being kept in her place.  She persevered however, and never lost an
+opportunity of putting in a word as far as she dared; but she always
+felt that there was a barrier that she might not pass.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A certain Major Ellingham appeared at Chirapore on his way to a
+shooting expedition in the Western Ghats.  He was entertained by Dr.
+Wenaston for a week while the camping preparations were made.  Mrs.
+Hulver devoted her attention to the catering; and with the assistance
+of Ramachetty and the cook sent in such meals as elicited the guest's
+warm approval.  In the evening as she sat in her wicker-chair by the
+open door of her sitting-room, she smiled as she heard the strains of
+the piano, and Ellingham's fine baritone in "Love's old sweet song," or
+some such melody.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Nothing came of it, however; and the guest departed as heart-whole as
+he left Eola herself.  Mrs. Hulver's even temperament was ruffled by a
+wave of annoyance as she thought of the enhanced bazaar account and all
+the trouble she had been put to in devising dainty cooking.  One
+morning she ventured to suggest to Miss Wenaston that Major Ellingham
+would make a good husband.  Eola agreed readily enough.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Probably he will pick up some nice girl by and by, when his head is
+less full of shooting big game," she said indifferently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is not the man to care for a young girl, miss.  I take it from his
+appearance and general bearing that when he makes his choice, it will
+fall on a lady with some experience of the world, like yourself and
+about your own age."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola laughed outright and Mrs. Hulver was hurt.  A joke she could
+understand, but ridicule was like a red hot iron, and she shrank into
+herself.  Eola saw that her mirth gave offence, and she hastened to
+soothe and make amends.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You need have no fear, Mrs. Hulver.  He doesn't take my fancy, nor do
+I take his; so there is no likelihood of your losing me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's not that, miss, which troubles me," the housekeeper explained.
+"Gladly would I see you go as I went myself to the arms of a husband.
+It's the proper place for every right-minded woman.  As William&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola interrupted her with another laugh that she found impossible to
+repress.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You and I don't agree on the subject of marriage and never shall.  I
+am single and you were very much married&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver bridled and broke in upon her speech with some indignation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Indeed, miss!  I was no more married than I ought to have been.  To
+have been less married with my three husbands wouldn't have been
+respectable.  And I am sure it has helped me along; I should have been
+a poor thing without it.  As William&mdash;that was my second&mdash;used to say:
+'Humble wedlock is better than proud singleness.  Marriage is like a
+good pair of boots to a woman.  It will carry her through fair weather
+and foul.  If the boots wear out before their time the best thing to do
+is to get another pair.'  He talked like that when I was hesitating
+about taking him.  It was not the man himself that made me doubt but
+the way he leaned.  It was all towards truth and honesty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are truthful and honest, Mrs. Hulver," protested Eola.  "Don't say
+you are not or you won't be doing yourself justice."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have always shrunk from lies and thieving," admitted Mrs. Hulver.
+"I never could stoop to low conduct of any kind.  But there is truth
+and truth.  As William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say when I gave him
+a talking to: 'Lay it on mild, me dear.  Truth is like a mustard
+plaster.  It may be very good for the patient but you've got to be
+careful how you apply it or you may hurt your best friend more than a
+little.'  What troubled me was whether I could live up to the standard
+of my second."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You might have been happier if you had not married him," said Eola,
+with a twinkle in her eye, as she controlled her lips.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I couldn't have been happy alone with nothing to live up to and no one
+to tend.  I chanced it and found it quite easy.  All I had to be
+careful about was to prevent anything from coming to his knowledge that
+was not up to his mark.  I soon got used to keeping things smooth; and
+there was never a married man happier than my second."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The thought of her success as William the second's wife restored her
+tranquillity of mind, and she left Eola to go about her duties in her
+usual contented frame of mind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+An Assistant Resident was the next person who all unconsciously
+fluttered Mrs. Hulver's hopes, raising them with regard to Eola only to
+dash them to the ground again.  It so happened that a man came to act
+for six months whilst the permanent Assistant Resident was away on
+leave.  He was unmarried, musical, and a great reader.  Inclination and
+compatability of tastes often brought him to the college either to
+discuss new writers with Dr. Wenaston, or to try over new music with
+Eola.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Once more Mrs. Hulver concentrated her attention and energy on culinary
+matters.  She had not been the chosen partner of three husbands without
+discovering how great a factor the food question is in the life of a
+man.  She was able to quote from the sayings of all three on the
+subject.  The Assistant Resident ate such dinners at the college house
+as he never forgot; but the way to his heart in his case was not
+through the stomach.  Over the music and books he made a certain amount
+of progress; and had he seen any response to encourage him, he might
+have fallen into the belief that Eola was the one desirable woman in
+the world for him; but there was no such encouragement.  At the end of
+six months he went away; and it was Mrs. Hulver's heart, not Eola's,
+that sank in despair.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Fressenden will miss you and the Doctor, miss," remarked Mrs.
+Hulver, austerely, the morning after his departure.  "You have been
+very hospitable to him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I daresay he will," was the indifferent reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He should get married.  An Assistant Resident has to receive a lot of
+company; and a house without a woman at the head makes a poor show."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Our present Assistant has a very nice wife."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's a wonder that Mr. Fressenden doesn't follow his example."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He will find a wife in time," replied Eola, as she added up the column
+of figures given her by the butler that morning.  "I make it half an
+anna less than Ramachetty.  I must go over it again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He had better not be too long about finding a wife," continued Mrs.
+Hulver, determined not to let the subject drop till she had had her
+say.  "If a man waits too long he ages in looks and manners, and he is
+not taken for himself.  He may think that he is, for God deals out
+vanity with a liberal hand when a boy is born.  But with a middle-aged
+man there are other considerations at the back of a woman's mind
+besides love; like houses, for instance."  She broke off shortly with a
+little laugh.  "It tells on both sides for that matter.  If
+William&mdash;that was my first&mdash;hadn't had a little property behind him, my
+mother would never have chosen him for her daughter with his dark
+complexion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Was he very much darker?  After all I think Ramachetty is right, and
+that it is my mistake not his."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He was quite four shades darker than me; some people might have said
+it was five; but that was his age.  Being older than me he showed it
+more."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, the butler has added it up correctly," said Eola, laying down her
+pen.  "You were telling me about your first husband.  It must have been
+a drawback to have had him darker than yourself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not so sure, miss, that it wasn't an advantage.  William knew
+that he was blacker than me by several shades, and that I was his
+superior in European descent.  Both his parents were Eurasians.  With
+me it was only on one side, my mother's.  That being so he never dared
+to cheek me or speak disrespectfully as country-born people are apt to
+do when they lose their tempers.  It's a very powerful thing in our
+sex, is the tongue.  I'm sure I don't know what we poor women would do
+without it.  As William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say: 'The tongue is
+a wonderful thing, Maria, me dear!  It may be as sweet as sugar; or
+sharp as a lime; or as stinging as red pepper.'  He used to add that
+the devil himself loosened Eve's tongue for her when she took the
+apple, knowing that she would have no chance with ould Adam unless she
+had that advantage."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Yet a third prospective husband, in Mrs. Hulver's opinion, appeared in
+the person of an executive engineer in the service of Government.  He
+was highly favoured by the housekeeper since Delaine, her first
+husband, had been a subordinate in that same service.  With renewed
+hope she flung herself into the campaign, and left nothing undone in
+the commissariat department that might propitiate and lead on a
+faltering suitor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was all to no purpose.  He departed like the other two without
+speaking; and Mrs. Hulver in her vexation could not refrain from
+unburdening herself on the subject at the first opportunity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When a man in the Public Works Department gets to be an executive
+engineer he ought to have a wife.  Mr. Fearing is just throwing away
+his opportunities by keeping single.  He seems such a nice gentleman,
+too.  There ought to be no difficulty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Except that perhaps marriage has no attraction for him," suggested
+Eola.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver stared at her in sheer unbelief.  The man or woman sound in
+mind and body who did not desire marriage in the abstract was
+unthinkable.  Choice was another matter; many an individual deferred
+making his choice for reasons that might be good or indifferent, but
+were sufficient all the same.  It was impossible in her opinion that
+any one could look upon the estate of matrimony as undesirable.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Begging your pardon, miss, if I may be so bold as to say so, I don't
+think either you or your brother know much about marriage.  Your minds
+have not been brought to bear upon it.  As William&mdash;that was my
+second&mdash;used to say: 'Thoughts are like guns; they are no use until
+they are trained on an object.'  You haven't had an occasion to train
+yours yet on to marriage.  Now in my case they've been trained all my
+life on matrimony, and I can speak with knowledge and experience.  If a
+man tells you that he doesn't want to get married, you may take it that
+either he can't get the woman he wants, or he hasn't made his choice.
+If a girl tells you that she doesn't want to get married&mdash;"  Mrs.
+Hulver actually panted with indignation at the mere thought of
+it&mdash;"She's&mdash;she's&mdash;well! she's a liar&mdash;at least she is in this country."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola's light laugh was the only reply to such an assertion, and Mrs.
+Hulver took herself off to her sanctum at the back of the house with
+the nearest approach to wrath in her placid good nature she was capable
+of feeling.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then Bernard Alderbury appeared on the scene, causing Mrs. Hulver doubt
+and perturbation of mind.  He was a vigorous worker in the ranks of one
+of the large Church of England missionary societies, a strenuous parson
+who held a charmed life against the many evils prowling in his field of
+labour.  He seemed immune to the effects of bad water, coarse food,
+poisonous mosquitoes and a tropical sun.  His exemption was not
+obtained by disregard of the conditions of Indian life up-country.  On
+the contrary he observed the greatest care in safe-guarding himself by
+the use of such appliances as science provided.  He took the minimum
+risk and the maximum care and forethought.  Aided by a magnificent
+constitution and an endless store of confidence and hope that killed
+depression, he preserved the health and good spirits so essential to
+his particular work.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston and Alderbury were old college friends.  When the missionary
+spirit threw its mantle over the latter, Wenaston, by no means an
+irreligious man, did his best to persuade the other from&mdash;as he put
+it&mdash;throwing himself away on the colonies and hiding his light under a
+bushel.  A man of his abilities and private means should have different
+aspirations.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury received the advice in his light-hearted manner, and assured
+his friend that going to India as a missionary would prove his own
+salvation and keep him out of the morasses of modern thought and
+controversy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must fight some one," said Alderbury.  "I don't want civil war; I
+want an enemy outside the pale of Mother Church.  Hinduism seems to me
+the very thing, a noble and worthy foe; an ancient faith, a marvellous
+system of philosophy with a crafty degenerate priesthood.  Doesn't the
+mere thought of it stir your blood and make you tingle to be up and
+fighting?  Grafting upon the obsolete creed something infinitely
+better, a glorious oriental Christ, soul-satisfying and sufficient, Who
+will lift India's millions into a fresher and purer atmosphere of life
+and thought."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston glanced at the shining eyes turned upon him in enthusiasm as
+he would have looked at the symptoms of an obscure disease.  It was a
+thing he could neither understand nor account for; but some instinct
+made him hold his peace.  If the man was right, well and good; if he
+proved wrong, he would find it out for himself.  He forbore to comment
+or to combat the new resolve.  Alderbury pursued the course he had
+mapped out for himself, and in due time went to India.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston continued the student and developed into the school-master.
+When a vacancy occurred in the college of Chirapore he was asked if he
+would accept it.  Until that moment he had not thought of going to the
+East.  His sister, who had a great desire to see India, added her
+weight to inclination, and he decided to take the appointment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Once more the two friends met, and Alderbury rejoiced in the renewal of
+their intimacy; for among other facts he learned that none pressed more
+heavily upon him than the loneliness of the missionary's life, its
+isolation and the complete absence of congenial companionship.  Under
+the circumstances it was not to be wondered at that he never lost an
+opportunity in his missionary itineration of spending a few days with
+the Doctor and his sister.  It was a little out of his way, but that
+did not matter.  The holiday was the more complete since there was no
+duty within reach.  The missions he superintended were in British
+territory, beyond the borders of the native state.  He would have
+established work of some sort in Chirapore, but he was not encouraged
+to do so by his society nor by the Government of the State.  The
+society already had more than enough irons in the fire with an open
+field in British India clamouring for yet more workers.  But Alderbury
+could never visit his friend without casting envious glances at the big
+classes of boys assembled in the college hall.  He would dearly have
+liked a free hand on the platforms of the classrooms; however this was
+not permissible.  One of the conditions attached to the appointment of
+Principal was that there should be no attempt at proselytising; a
+condition to which Wenaston easily subscribed, since he had not even a
+spark of missionary enthusiasm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola was of her brother's way of thinking.  She too looked at
+Alderbury's work with something like detached curiosity.  His energy,
+his whole-hearted desire to see India Christianised, his indefatigable
+and unceasing sacrifice of self, appealed to the instinctive
+hero-worship that is implanted in every woman's breast; but though she
+could wonder and admire and was insensibly drawn by his personality,
+she could not understand the fascination that held him to his chosen
+profession.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As for Mrs. Hulver she had her own reasons for disapproving of his
+visits, and it had nothing to do with his missionary zeal.
+Nevertheless she did not fail to provide a table worthy of her master's
+position.  The food was substantial rather than recherché, nourishing
+rather than dainty.  She had formed some fixed opinions upon the
+subject of missionaries generally; they were deeply rooted and
+unalterable.  As a class missionaries required feeding up; their
+wardrobes needed the services of the dirzee to mend and patch and darn.
+She was puzzled more than a little when she found that Alderbury paid
+no particular attention to the food, and ate sparingly, with a distinct
+inclination towards daintiness.  As for his wardrobe it was in better
+condition in some respects and needed less attention than the Doctor's.
+Not a sock required darning; not a coat needed stitching; and what was
+more, his clothes were not only new and none the worse for wear, but
+they were of the best and finest description.  The pay of a missionary
+was known to be of narrow proportions, leaving no margin for luxury.
+It did not seem fit and proper in her eyes that he should be better
+dressed than his host.  That he possessed anything besides his salary
+did not enter Mrs. Hulver's head; because if he had private means he
+never would have come to India as a missionary; he would have adopted
+the military service and been an officer in the army.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury came and went at his own convenience, never announcing his
+proposed visit by more than a day or two, and never prolonging it
+beyond the two or three nights, which gave him at least one complete
+day's rest, so essential sometimes to the worker for whom Sunday is the
+busiest day of the week.  How intensely the man enjoyed that day his
+hosts had little suspicion.  Whether he discussed the latest theory in
+science or religion with Wenaston, or the latest novel with Eola, it
+was all pure happiness unclouded by a single anxiety.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver was the only person who was disturbed.  The laughter of the
+happy trio awoke no sympathetic joy in her.  She was relieved when she
+heard only the low tone of the masculine voices, indicating that Miss
+Wenaston was taking no part in the conversation.  It was fortunate for
+her peace of mind that she could not see Eola's eyes dwelling on the
+long figure extended in the cane lounge placed between her own easy
+chair and her brother's; nor how she watched him when, carried away by
+excitement, he pulled himself forward and even sprang to his feet the
+better to emphasise what he had to say.  As he stood before them,
+speaking to the Doctor, but often turning his deepset eyes upon Eola,
+the girl thought of St. Paul.  By what mysterious force was he driven?
+What fire was it that kindled in his eyes as he talked and made him
+look different from any other man she had known?  The Indian world as
+she knew it was very peaceful; the people of the native State of
+Chirakul were notorious for their content and for the absence of all
+sedition and unrest.  Yet to hear him talk one might be brought to the
+belief that it was not a peaceful model native state, but an enemy's
+land, a field for a deadly battle with a worthy foe.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury passed out of their little world as suddenly as he came in,
+leaving them slumberous and quiescent.  Eola missed him, but Mrs.
+Hulver indulged in a sigh of relief.  Much as she desired to see Eola
+married she drew a rigid line at missionaries.  Not that missionaries
+should be debarred from marriage.  On the contrary, a wife was more
+needful in the mission house than anywhere else.  But the missionary's
+wife belonged, in her opinion, to quite another class.  She did not
+know where the wives were bred.  They were endowed with many admirable
+virtues, and were eminently suited to be helpers to their worthy
+husbands in proselytising among the heathen; but of one thing she was
+sure; there was a wide difference between them and Miss Wenaston.
+Their rambling bungalows had a certain amount of plain solid comfort
+about them; and they made the best of the country fare that their
+limited salaries obliged them to buy, but there was nothing dainty in
+either dress or food or furniture.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The large compounds in which their dwellings were placed contained
+outbuildings where the natives gathered for instruction; both bungalow
+and compound were haunted with mild-looking converts in white muslin;
+their happy faces an indication that Christianity and the pastoral
+supervision of the missionary agreed with them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On the other hand who ever heard of a missionary's wife being invited
+to the Presidency town to take a share in social festivities?  Who ever
+saw, asked Mrs. Hulver, with raised eyebrows, "a missionary's lady" at
+a race meet or at a Government House ball?  Miss Wenaston belonged to
+the class that welcomed Viceroys and figured at races and balls.  Thus
+it happened that after some of these flying visits Mrs. Hulver had
+remarks to make.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Missionaries are very good sort of people in their way.  I often
+wonder how they can keep it up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Keep what up?" asked Eola, mystified.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Their spirits and their belief that they are doing these natives good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course they are doing good, Mrs. Hulver," said Eola, as if she were
+slightly shocked.  The half-formed doubt occasionally slipped unbidden
+into her own mind but she had never put it into words.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I didn't say that they were not doing good.  I left it open.  As
+William&mdash;that was my first&mdash;used to say when the native overseers had
+too big a grasp on the profits: 'You can't wash a crow white nor expect
+anything of him but a croak.'  It's the thought of the millions and
+millions of heathen in India that is apt to stagger one.  It's like
+trying to empty a tank with a teaspoon.  However, as William&mdash;that was
+my second&mdash;used to say when I was down-hearted about the way anything
+was going: 'You lay your brick and lay it sound and leave the rest to
+others.  No man ever built a church steeple all by himself and yet old
+England is full of churches and steeples.'  Anyway, I shouldn't like to
+be a missionary's wife.  I could dress up to it; I could feed up to it;
+but I couldn't stand the converts trapesing through the compound and
+hanging about the verandahs.  I shouldn't feel as if the house belonged
+to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary to have them there," suggested Eola,
+who read between the lines with secret amusement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! yes, it would; it's their reward; their right," replied Mrs.
+Hulver with conviction.  "Any lady that's suitable to be a missionary's
+wife makes no objection; but she must be, so to speak, born to it.
+It's not a job that would suit you, miss.  As William&mdash;that was my
+third&mdash;said when he heard that the Chaplain was going to marry the
+Colonel's daughter: 'If the church mouse takes the field mouse to wife
+there'll be a difference of opinion about the mode of living.'  You
+could never put up with mission ways."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You never did any mission work, I suppose," said Eola, turning the
+conversation from a subject she was not prepared to discuss with her
+housekeeper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No miss; but my husband William&mdash;that was my second&mdash;he tried his hand
+at it once, only once.  He saw some of the canteen servants doing pujah
+to a stone image that stood under a tree behind the canteen.  He went
+up to them in the middle of the pujah and said: 'Boys, you're all going
+to hell that way.'  One of them that served the Presbyterian minister
+spoke up and said: 'No sar!  It's the Roman Catholics that are going to
+hell, not us!'  William walked away without another word; and when I
+asked him about it, he said that missionary work wasn't his job, and
+that he would leave it to those who knew more about it than he did."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was very good of him to make the attempt."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver looked pleased at the praise and approbation of the
+departed William the second.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He was a right-minded man about everything, loyal to his God and his
+King; and he was the father of my only child."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap11"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XI
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola sat at the tea-table in the verandah.  Her brother, punctual to
+the stroke of four, came in without haste, crossing the compound from
+the college buildings to the private house.  Punctuality, he declared,
+was his salvation.  He could not have stood the rush of work had he not
+rigidly adhered to the hours of his meals.  Afternoon tea was the one
+he liked best.  He gave himself exactly thirty minutes for it.  It was
+thirty minutes of solid rest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where's Alderbury," he asked, as he seated himself in a comfortable
+cane chair.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has gone to see Ananda."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't mind if I read, do you, Eola?  The new magazines came two
+days ago and I haven't had time even to open them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He tore off the cover of an illustrated monthly and handed it to her.
+A second magazine was opened for himself, and he was soon deep in an
+article professing to give the last word on the chemistry of biology.
+Whilst he read he drank his tea.  A bell rang and he jumped up,
+instantly detaching himself from the magazine and breaking off in the
+middle of a paragraph.  He hurried away in the direction of the college
+without another thought for his visitor.  At his departure Mrs. Hulver
+appeared.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When you go out, Miss, will you kindly get some carpet thread for the
+tailor.  The motor is ready."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't leave the house till Mr. Alderbury has come in.  He promised
+to be back to tea at four o'clock.  He must have been detained."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, yes, miss, I daresay he has been detained," assented Mrs. Hulver.
+"Our master might be kept if he chose to allow it.  As William&mdash;that
+was my third&mdash;used to say: 'There are some men who will be in time for
+every meal, hungry or not; and there are others who will be in time for
+nothing but their own funerals.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola ignored the implied depreciation of her guest and proceeded to
+give orders that would ensure his comfort.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We shall want another pot of tea, please.  Tell the matey to keep the
+kettle boiling, and he is not to make the tea until Mr. Alderbury comes
+in."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you like to go out now, miss, I can see to Mr. Alderbury and give
+him his tea.  I am sure he won't mind.  His head is that full of his
+missioning that he won't notice whether it is poured out by you or by
+me.  As William&mdash;that was my first&mdash;used to say: 'When a man is
+bothered by business he has no room in his head for a woman and can't
+tell one from another.'  Mr. Alderbury is bothered with this business
+of Pantulu Iyer's son coming Christian.  It has all been done in a
+hurry, as I was telling you.  As William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to
+say&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+What William the third said was lost in the sudden appearance of the
+guest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So sorry I'm late, Miss Wenaston.  Yes, please, I should like some
+tea.  What with the dust and the amount of talking I've done, I'm as
+thirsty as a fish."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He hurried away to his room to get rid of the powdery ochre blown up
+from the laterite roads.  Mrs. Hulver glanced after him with as much
+disapproval as she dared to show.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Next to schoolmasters, missionaries should be particular in being
+punctual.  As William&mdash;that was my second&mdash;used to say: 'Men should be
+valued like watches for the time they keep.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And he was quite right from a military point of view.  Will you see
+about the tea, please, Mrs. Hulver!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's being made, miss.  I've got my eye on the matey.  It will be
+ready as soon as Mr. Alderbury is ready for it.  Like as not he will
+read those letters that have come while he has been away and forget all
+about his tea."  Mrs. Hulver looked at Eola as much as to say, "And you
+too."  She continued: "A man with a lot of business needs a good head.
+As William&mdash;that was my second&mdash;used to say: 'Drive your business with
+a firm hand and a clear head or your business will drive you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury's appearance checked the flow of Mrs. Hulver's wisdom, and
+she departed to her room.  As he received his cup from Eola's hand he
+said:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You would like to hear how I fared, I am sure."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, please; tell me all about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The words did not ring quite true; they were wanting in sympathy, and
+seemed to the quick sensitive ear of the missionary to be spoken more
+out of polite curiosity than real interest.  He glanced at her and
+tried to swallow some of the scalding liquid with the aid of the
+teaspoon.  The innate love of fighting in a good cause rose within him,
+and he determined to try conclusions with her.  She should become
+interested, and more.  He would conquer her indifference and rouse her
+sympathy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I had no end of a difficulty in seeing the parents.  It was the father
+I wanted to get at and he was very inaccessible."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You had an interview with Ananda, of course.  I knew him in England,
+and should like to hear how he is getting on.  I don't care a bit about
+his stupid old father.  Why can't the father let the son alone, and
+allow him to take his own line?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The step involves so much."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If that is so, then Ananda shouldn't have taken it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury put down his cup suddenly, his mind entirely diverted from
+the business of tea-drinking by her words.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't mean that you really think he ought not to have become a
+Christian?" he inquired, in a grave voice that had lost the lightness
+with which he had greeted her on arrival home from his visit.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The seriousness of his manner awoke a spirit of perverseness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am of the opinion that he might have had more consideration for his
+father's feelings," she said, with a levity that jarred.  "Why should
+existing relations that seemed so satisfactory be disturbed?"  Then, as
+Alderbury remained silent, she continued: "There is a time for all
+things.  It is too soon to ask educated India to accept Christianity;
+the way is studded with such colossal difficulties.  Don't you often
+feel that you are fighting against almost insuperable obstacles?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In short you think it would be more expedient for the missionary to
+run away or temporise, instead of buckling on his armour and standing
+up to the enemy.  What about our responsibilities and lending a helping
+hand to our fellow-men?  The marsh is a good enough place for the horse
+to wallow in, and the man enjoying the firm ground of the meadow has no
+duty towards the poor beast!  Miss Wenaston, that is a poor creed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you so sure that the Hindu is in the mud?" she asked, more in a
+spirit of provocation than honest inquiry.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a fearful fascination in rousing him, and she took the risk
+of his anger for the pure pleasure of seeing him come up to the
+fighting line.  The eyes that met hers shone with the light of battle,
+and she inwardly trembled at the spirit she had wantonly raised.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Am I sure, you ask?" he cried derisively.  "If you knew what Hinduism
+meant you would never put such a question to a man of my profession.
+You cannot realise how encrusted it is with insidious error appealing
+mischievously to the sensual part of humanity.  You know nothing of the
+practices at the worship of Kali&mdash;of the life led by the dasis in the
+temples of Southern India&mdash;&mdash;" he stopped abruptly, conscious of having
+been led in his excitement and enthusiasm a little too far.  It was
+impossible to pursue such an unsavoury subject with an English woman.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know much about the worship of Kali; and I am sure that I
+never heard the word dasi before.  What is a dasi?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! never mind," he exclaimed, the fire subdued.  "Please give me
+another cup of tea, and I will tell you about Ananda.  Perhaps when you
+hear what has driven him out of the faith of his ancestors, you will be
+able to sympathise."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He explained the theory of transmigration, and how Ananda had revolted
+against it on the loss of his friend; how he put himself under
+instruction in England and took the step voluntarily and without
+pressure.  From the story of his conversion he passed on to the
+description of all that had followed since Ananda arrived in India.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The man is being persecuted in all kinds of ways.  They have supplied
+him with food, but they have employed an out-caste sweeper to carry it
+to him.  The prejudice of fifty generations is not to be conquered all
+at once, and Ananda cannot bring himself to receive his food at the
+hands of a man whom he holds more unclean than we should consider an
+unwashed workman who had just emptied a sewer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How has he been existing?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"On biscuits and milk, a poor diet for a healthy hungry man.  It has
+kept him from starvation however.  Your brother did wisely in sending
+for me after receiving Ananda's letter.  He needs advice and support,
+and he will require help of another kind when the small amount of cash
+in his pocket is finished."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose you talked to him&mdash;and prayed with him?" said Eola,
+conscious of the banality of her words even as she spoke them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear lady! does a man stop to fall on his knees when he sees a comrade
+drowning?  You will think me a poor sort of missionary, perhaps, when I
+confess that I forgot to pray with him.  I was too busy chucking
+life-belts to the poor chap.  Already he was assailed with doubts as to
+the wisdom of the step he had taken.  'I have been too hasty,' he said.
+'I did not consider how seriously it would affect my father's peace of
+mind and his health.'  Then he drew a picture of the old man's feeble
+appearance as he came to him two or three mornings ago in the compound.
+'He was so bowed and bent he might have been seventy instead of fifty.'
+It gave him a shock, and he seems to have entertained a suggestion made
+by his father which was nothing less than the contemplation of partial
+apostacy.  I fought against the weakness.  I preached free-will and
+choice.  I appealed to his honesty and combated the cowardice that
+prompted retrogression.  He admitted that he could never again accept
+the Hindu doctrine of transmigration.  Then I pointed out the
+responsibility that falls on a man's shoulders when his eyes are opened
+and the choice of road lies with him.  I dug away and rooted about to
+find a little courage.  He has more obstinacy than courage at present.
+I hope that the one will breed the other."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+While he talked he drank tea and devoured bread and butter with the
+wholesome hunger of a schoolboy.  Mrs. Hulver appeared once more.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The motor is waiting, miss.  I'm afraid I can't do without the carpet
+thread."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will go at once," replied Eola, rising from the tea-table to put on
+her hat.  "Will you come for a run in the car, Mr. Alderbury?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should like it immensely," he replied with a promptness that did not
+escape the ears of the housekeeper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was not satisfied with the result of her interruption to the
+conversation.  By despatching Miss Wenaston on a shopping errand she
+had aimed at putting an end to the <I>tête-à-tête</I>.  The guest, she
+supposed, would be driven to his room or into the garden until Dr.
+Wenaston was released from his duties and could join him.  As Eola
+disappeared in the direction of her room Alderbury turned in his
+impulsive way to Mrs. Hulver.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I haven't had a moment to ask you after yourself.  How have you been
+since we last met?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I've been keeping pretty well, thank you, sir.  All that troubles me
+is the haricot veins in my legs.  If I stand about too much, they swell
+and become very painful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How is your son?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver beamed suddenly, and the severe expression that she had
+worn since he appeared in the verandah vanished.  Next to talking about
+her late husbands she loved to expand on the subject of her boy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is very well and grown quite the man.  He tells me that he has just
+been made a corporal.  He's in his father's old regiment, and it has
+been ordered out at once.  He ought to be landing in less than a week's
+time.  He has promised to come off and see his old mother the first
+minute he can get leave.  They say that the regiment is going to
+Bangalore.  If so I shall see him often."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope he will prove a good son."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No fear but what he will," said Mrs. Hulver, with the unshaken
+confidence of a proud mother.  "He is happy in his work and likes
+soldiering.  As William&mdash;that was my second and the boy's own
+father&mdash;used to say when I talked of the child following any other
+trade: 'Bring up the foal to the shafts and don't try to teach him to
+drive a wheelbarrow.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He was perfectly right; each man should follow the line for which he
+is best suited."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But they don't do so always.  There are many men&mdash;and women, too&mdash;who,
+being square, find themselves in round holes.  Now you, sir, I take it,
+are in the right-shaped hole.  So am I; and so is Miss Wenaston.  She
+would do badly in my hole, for instance; for she would be cheated every
+hour of her life by these budmashes of servants; and she would be still
+worse off in your hole.  There's nothing of the missionary about her,
+as any one can see with half an eye.  As William&mdash;that was my
+third&mdash;used to say: 'It doesn't need a uniform to show you who's a born
+soldier.'  He was a fine figure and had a handsome&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Miss Wenaston appeared and the car drew up under the portico, cutting
+Mrs. Hulver short.  She watched the pair drive away with renewed
+misgivings.  "I don't like that look in her face.  She's feeling just
+as I used to feel when William, my second and the father of my boy,
+took me out walking in the bazaar, he looking so fine in his corporal's
+uniform." She called to the butler.  "Ramachetty!  Come here; I want
+you.  To-morrow is pay-day.  I'm going out into the garden to count the
+roses.  Where's the gardener?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She descended the steps of the front verandah and walked slowly,
+displaying an imposing dignity, to the spot where the roses stood.  She
+counted the pots.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"&mdash;six&mdash;seven&mdash;"  As she arrived at the seventh the gardener pointed
+with feverish anxiety to the eighth.  It bore a beautiful double pink
+blossom full of fragrance, proclaiming itself a true and genuine <I>La
+France</I>, "Eight; good!  Wasn't it just as I said?" she asked the butler
+triumphantly.  "With care the roses would turn back to their proper
+sort.  Why haven't the others turned, too?" she inquired, looking
+severely at the gardener.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are turning now; all coming nicely if missus will please wait."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mind they do come," she replied, lifting a warning finger that
+indicated a determination to exact the fulfilment of her demand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Missus will let off the fine!" said the gardener in an insinuating
+voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly not!  There will be four rupees fine to-morrow; four rupees
+kept back until the missie has twelve good, sweet-smelling double pink
+roses."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am a very poor man!" whined the gardener.  "I have a large family
+and two wives, both big hungry women.  What can I do if missus stops my
+pay?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You should have thought of that before you spoilt the roses," said
+Mrs. Hulver, showing no sign of relenting.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not a bad man," pleaded the gardener.  "Missus must please
+forgive.  I am same religion as missus&mdash;a Christian&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What!" cried Mrs. Hulver, with such startling emphasis that they all
+jumped, butler, gardener and gardener's assistants.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A Christian, a poor worm of a Christian, same religion as missus and
+master and missie!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How dare you call yourself a Christie?" cried Mrs. Hulver, in deep
+indignation.  "How dare you say that you belong to the same religion as
+me and the master and our missie?  You! a spoiler of roses! you! a lazy
+idle budmash of a gardener!  You! with two big hungry wives!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The unfortunate bigamist trembled visibly before this outpouring of
+wrath.  He felt that he had made a false step.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ramachetty! is that man a Christian?" she asked, turning to the butler
+with an abruptness that upset his self-possession.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I never heard that he was, ma'am.  He doesn't belong to my Church, the
+Roman Church."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it true that he has got two wives?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, ma'am; one to cook and keep the house, and the other to mind the
+field and the buffalo and make the butter.  My Church doesn't allow two
+wives."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; nor any other Christian Church.  He calls himself a Christian
+because he thinks I shall be sorry for him and let him off his fine.
+Tell him that only heathen people marry two wives and turn pink roses
+into red.  He is the sort of budmash who brings Christianity into
+disgrace.  I'll double his fine if he dares to say again that he
+belongs to my religion.  When he has learned to keep pink double roses
+pink and double, then we will talk about his being a Christian and
+belonging to our religion; but mind!  I don't give him much hope.  I
+never knew any missionary that allowed two wives."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The butler was not indifferent to the pronoun used by Mrs. Hulver when
+she spoke of "our religion."  He dismissed the gardener to his duties
+and followed the housekeeper to the back verandah.  She retired to her
+room to make out the pay-list for the establishment.  Against the
+gardener's name she ventured to write the full sum of his wages and
+made no note of any fine.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Those four missing plants will all be back by to-morrow unless I am
+very much mistaken.  Christian or heathen, I'll keep him and the rest
+of them up to the Christian standard or my name is not Maria Hulver.
+As William my third used to say, he having been in the Artillery:
+'Drive your team straight whether they're horses or mules, and you and
+your guns will get over the ground without a spill.'"
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap12"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XII
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After dinner that same evening Alderbury sat in the verandah with Eola
+and her brother.  The end of the verandah was enclosed with a trellis
+over which creepers were trained.  From the roof hung a lantern that
+shed a subdued light.  If Eola desired to work or her brother to read,
+a lamp was brought and placed upon a table.  This evening the lamp was
+not required.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+While the servants waited at table, Alderbury could not speak of the
+subject uppermost in his mind.  No sooner had the coffee been handed
+round and the cigars lighted, than Ananda's name was brought up, and he
+described his visit to the convert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The chief thing accomplished was the moral support he had been able to
+give to the convert.  He devoutly hoped that it would sustain Ananda
+until something could be effected to improve his condition.  All that
+had happened since his return home was quite sufficient in itself to
+induce depression; and there was always a danger lest depression should
+be followed by apostacy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want your help, Wenaston," said Alderbury suddenly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You shall have it," the other responded without hesitation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You promise without knowing what it is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You want to borrow the motor-car.  It shall be ready at sunrise
+to-morrow.  I can't drive you myself, much as I should like it.  I
+haven't time.  The chauffeur will take you where you want to go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall be very grateful.  The car transforms travelling from
+purgatory to pure delight.  It was not the car, however, that was in my
+mind.  I want something else&mdash;help for Ananda.  His money won't hold
+out a week longer, and then it will be in the power of his people to
+starve him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He will have to take food from his pariah servant&mdash;a practical
+beginning of his education in the brotherhood of man," remarked
+Wenaston.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lately no food of any description has been sent to his room.  Unless I
+am very much mistaken the supply will stop altogether."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And his father will give him no money?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sure of that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are Ananda's rights as a son?  Can't he claim assistance and
+support from his nearest relatives by his caste laws?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If he were still a member of the Hindu religion he could claim
+house-room, food and clothing from his father.  These benefits are
+conceded by the unwritten law of caste custom.  Having abandoned his
+faith and become an outcaste, he loses all his rights legal and social."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you sure?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Quite certain.  I called on the chief lawyer in the town on my way
+back to find out what his position really was&mdash;the reason I was late
+for tea, Miss Wenaston&mdash;and from him I learned the law regarding
+converts to Christianity as it stands in the native State."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it different from the law in British India?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Entirely; the 'vert has no legal standing at all, no civil rights
+whatever.  He is an outcaste in every sense; in other words an outlaw.
+Neither by inheritance, nor by deed of gift, nor by a duly executed
+will can he inherit his father's property.  He has no power to compel
+his wife to live with him.  She may contract any other alliance she
+chooses as if he had never existed; and he has absolutely no control
+over his children.  What is more they are empowered to divide his
+patrimony among themselves exactly as if he were dead."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How unjust!" exclaimed Eola in indignation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is nothing less than iniquitous," responded Alderbury, with some
+warmth.  "But there it stands.  We cannot alter it and Ananda must face
+it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He should get away from his home and his people; he is at too great a
+disadvantage where he is," remarked Dr. Wenaston.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Exactly so; and we must help him," said Alderbury.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If it means a sum of money, of course I am ready&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't want your money, Wenaston," protested Alderbury, speaking
+rapidly as was his wont when excited.  "I want your help in another
+way.  Ananda is very unwilling to leave his home to which he has only
+just returned.  He is devoted to his parents and cannot at present
+bring himself to believe that they are lending themselves to this
+system of persecution.  He attributes it to his uncle.  Until he has
+proof that his father's hand is actually turned against him, he wishes
+to continue living under his roof.  He would like to obtain work of
+some sort in Chirapore that would enable him to keep house with his
+wife and child separately.  Can you find anything for him to do in your
+school?  He is quite capable of teaching English, mathematics, history,
+geography or anything of that sort to boys."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston was silent and unresponsive to the appeal.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose you haven't a vacancy and don't see your way to making one
+on the staff," said Alderbury in a disappointed tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As it happens there is a vacancy, but&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why this hesitation, then?  It would be a clear way out of our
+immediate difficulty if you would give him a trial.  I feel sure he can
+teach.  You know him personally and need no testimonial as to his
+character."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wasn't hesitating over his character or his qualifications as a
+teacher.  I was wondering how much sympathy was extended in the town to
+the family, and whether feeling runs strong on the subject of his
+conversion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It will not affect his status in the college.  Of course he
+understands that religious discussion is prohibited.  You may depend
+upon him for not proselytising; he will not even introduce the subject;
+and I am sure that he will be ready to fall in with your wishes in
+every way.  Poor fellow!  I know he will be very grateful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The pleading on the part of Alderbury roused Eola's sympathy, and she
+added her entreaty to his.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You must lend him a helping hand!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is against my better judgment," replied her brother, giving in
+reluctantly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If it doesn't answer you can put an end to the arrangement at once; a
+day's notice, if you like, will be sufficient.  Take him on for a week,
+and let me hear at the end of it whether the plan is working
+successfully or not.  It will be a great relief to my mind to know that
+he has employment of some kind, not only as a means of living but also
+as occupation.  Later on I will try to persuade him to leave Chirapore
+and get work elsewhere.  With a testimonial from you he should have no
+difficulty in finding a situation as schoolmaster in one of our
+missions.  If he will only sever his connection with his family and
+place himself beyond their influence I see a grand future before him in
+the mission field.  We so rarely win over a man of good caste.  At
+present he clings with all the force of a great love to his family and
+to his wife and child.  Patience! patience!  I am a most impatient man,
+Miss Wenaston," he concluded, turning to her with a boyish laugh that
+echoed through the verandah.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Having discussed the details of Ananda's immediate employment,
+Alderbury dropped into a thoughtful silence.  From a few words spoken
+casually by the Doctor he was not satisfied that Wenaston appreciated
+and valued Ananda's conversion as much as he should.  Eola's remark
+earlier in the day also hung in his mind; yet he did not want to preach
+or to talk shop, as he sometimes called it.  His difficulty of finding
+an opening was solved by a question put by Eola herself in the pause
+that ensued.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You said this afternoon that I knew nothing about Hinduism.  Don't you
+think you might enlighten me a little?  I am open to conviction, and
+quite ready to believe that the Hindus will be the better for the
+Christianity you are giving them.  Of course idolatry is only fit for
+savages, and the people of India ought to adopt something better as
+they are not savages."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mustn't think that the Hindus are a nation of idolaters.  The
+ignorant masses worship idols and probably believe that the images
+themselves have some mysterious power of divinity in them; but the
+educated Hindu will tell you that the idol is symbolical; that they
+look beyond and through the image to the Deity.  Their conception of
+the Deity is different from ours.  He is impersonal and He is the
+creator of good and evil."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A bold theory of the infinitude of the Deity on one hand and the
+existence of evil on the other," said Wenaston, who was listening,
+although Alderbury addressed his remarks to Eola.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The Hindu believes that the world exists for a retributive purpose so
+that spirits may find embodiment, and suffer pain and joy according to
+their deserts.  Through their sufferings in cycles of rebirths they
+progress towards their final state of impersonal beatitude.  The
+retributive world with its process is eternal and lasts through all
+ages.  If the world dies, it dies to be born again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A wonderful conception but deadening in its effects, whether one
+contemplates rebirth in this world or absorption into Brahma,"
+commented Wenaston.  "The marvel to me is that Hinduism has held its
+own so long."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Its preservation is due to its wonderful system, its width and
+breadth.  It preaches on one hand an asceticism which is acceptable to
+the most exacting fanatic.  On the other it gives a licence, in the
+name of religion and the worship of Kali, that appeals irresistibly to
+the lowest and most sensual side of man.  Hitherto its isolation and
+its marvellous power of absorbing other religious systems have been a
+tower of strength; but it cannot be saved much longer from the inrush
+of the modern spirit and stands in danger of being broken down."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By what?" asked Eola.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By the response to modern thought and by the awakening of Hindus like
+Ananda to a yearning after something better.  Under the influence of
+the new spirit of inquiry they are demanding more freedom, more
+spirituality in their doctrines.  They revolt as Ananda has revolted
+against the hopeless theory of transmigration, and they require
+something more satisfying in its place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The Hindus are a religious people, with strong cravings that must be
+satisfied.  This is shown clearly by the absence of any desire on the
+part of my boys to shirk their religious duties," said Wenaston.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By and bye those boys won't be content with the performance of
+superstitious pujah with a pantheistic leaning.  They will require one
+God for India, not a million gods; they will demand an uplifting of
+suffering humanity, and they will rebel against a horrible creed of
+fatalism and predestination."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What have you to offer to a man like Ananda?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Our own faith."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can he comprehend it with its spiritual teaching?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ask him some day and he will tell you that in the teaching of Christ
+and in the following of Christ's example he has found a soul-satisfying
+substitute for his worn-out creed and childish rituals."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Alderbury, you are an incorrigible iconoclast.  With one blow you
+would annihilate the longest-lived religion of the world!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He was on his feet in a moment, as was his way when excited, and his
+voice rang out into the night.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You obsolete old professor! you bag of dry bones!" he cried, as he
+strode up and down the verandah.  "The ancient Greeks and Romans killed
+their conquered enemies, I know; but modern conquerors pursue a
+different plan.  They preserve; at the same time they subdue and bend
+the conquered to their will, making use of the good and pruning away
+the bad.  We shall treat Hinduism in the modern manner; remodelling its
+rites and its institutions.  Even that bugbear to all mission work,
+caste, shall be reformed.  Hinduism will be transfigured in God's good
+time by the spirituality of Christ.  It will merge into a fuller,
+richer Christianity than we of the less imaginative West have ever
+contemplated."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola felt the blood coursing through her veins with an emotion that was
+startling.  Alderbury's enthusiasm, his magnificent faith, his absolute
+optimism and trust in the future roused her admiration, almost her
+envy.  She felt the infection of his hope and belief; but because she
+was a woman, there was something behind it that detached her mind from
+the cause for which he battled, and centred her thoughts upon the man
+himself.  While she listened, carried away by his words, she was
+conscious of his splendid personality, his strength, his confidence,
+his purity of heart.  He was a born leader of men with a strong
+personal influence that was not to be denied; and the messenger
+occupied her mind more than the message he carried.  Alderbury was
+unlike any one else of her acquaintance; and each time they met she
+became conscious of a growing attraction that she was unwilling to
+acknowledge even to herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When the hour for retirement came, Wenaston said good-night to his
+guest and departed to his sitting-room to read.  Eola stood for a few
+minutes after she had shaken hands.  Alderbury waited, his quickened
+perception where human beings were concerned telling him that she had
+something to say which was for his ear only.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sorry I spoke as I did about Ananda and his religion.  I am
+afraid I gave you the impression that I thought one religion as good as
+another."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It certainly crossed my mind that such was your attitude," he replied
+gravely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I ought not to have said that it was a pity that he had changed.  I am
+sorry."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was sweet in her penitence, and Alderbury was constrained to take a
+firm grip of himself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"People have a habit of making loose statements of that kind, and of
+expressing a vague regret that we interfere with the Hindu creed.  They
+don't realise what they are practically admitting.".
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is so!  I have often heard English men and women say that they
+would rather have a good heathen servant for instance, than an
+indifferent Christian."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The standard of one is entirely different from the standard of the
+other.  A 'good heathen's' religion makes the practice of certain sins
+a religious act.  Among the 'indifferent Christians' there are a great
+many who have no religion at all; but they claim to be of the faith of
+those they serve, thinking that they will be more favoured."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I mustn't get into the habit of making loose statements."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nor of believing everything a native tells you.  I am sure Mrs. Hulver
+is careful how she receives what they say of themselves.  I should like
+to hear her on the subject, and also on their habits, good and bad.
+She would be sure to quote one of the Williams."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know what they would have said!" cried Eola, the cloud dispersed,
+and on good terms with herself again.  "William the first would have
+held that habits had their advantages and might be acquired with
+discretion.  William the second's views would have been more rigid.
+Habits were good and bad; the good were to be adopted at all costs and
+the bad avoided.  William the third would have been of the opinion that
+habits, good and bad, were unavoidable in poor weak human natures and
+must be accepted with the man."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury's laugh rang out; and Mrs. Hulver, dropping off to sleep on
+her cot under the mosquito curtains, heard it.  She stirred in sleepy
+protest.  Missionaries had no right to joke and laugh like that with
+"society ladies."  How could they expect to convert the heathen if they
+indulged in such levity?  As William used to say&mdash;&mdash;; but here she fell
+asleep and happily forgot Miss Wenaston and the missionary, together
+with the words of wisdom that fell from the lips of her trinity of
+Williams.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap13"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XIII
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At sunrise Alderbury started off in the motor to drive back to that
+particular mission centre of which he was the superintendent.  It was
+situated in British India, about forty miles from the town of Chirapore.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On his way he stopped at the house of Pantulu.  He walked quickly round
+to the side where the room assigned to Ananda was situated.  He found
+him sitting on his deck chair in the open doorway.  He was trying to
+concentrate his attention on a book, but his eyes often wandered to the
+hills.  He heard the tread of footsteps and looked up expectantly.  As
+soon as he caught sight of Alderbury he rose, pleasure plainly written
+on his face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I did not think that you would have time to call and see me again," he
+said, as he shook hands warmly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dr. Wenaston's offer of the car has made it possible.  I come with
+good news.  He has consented to my suggestion that you should take up a
+post as junior master in the school.  The salary you will draw will
+enable you to support yourself and make you independent of your father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda's eyes grew bright at the prospect and he questioned his visitor
+eagerly as to his duties.  They were explained, together with the
+subjects that were forbidden.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall like it beyond all things," said Ananda.  "For the present I
+will go on living here.  I am getting used to the room.  It is not as
+bad as it looks."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have your people sent you any food this morning; any coffee and rice
+cakes?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; they have never yet sent me anything in the early morning.  The
+pariah has returned, I am glad to say, with permission to sweep and
+perform his usual duties."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury began to dive into the deep pockets of his travelling
+overcoat.  He produced bread, butter, a bottle of strong coffee, cake,
+sugar, salt and various other eatables.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't mind accepting these things from Miss Wenaston.  Her
+housekeeper gave them to me with her own hands.  When you go to the
+college to-morrow morning, call at the house and say you are grateful."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course I will.  I'll see the housekeeper as well as Miss Wenaston."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And let me give you another piece of advice, Ananda.  You must fill up
+the whole day with regular employment, whether you are at the college
+or at home.  You must not allow yourself to drift into the habit of
+idleness.  It is bad for any man, European or Indian.  You must read
+and make notes of what you read.  You must write to me and tell me what
+you are teaching your class.  I will send you some books addressed to
+the care of Miss Wenaston as soon as I get back; and if you want
+lighter literature you can borrow of her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They talked of various matters for some time, and then Alderbury looked
+at his watch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Half-past eight! how the time flies!  Is that your man outside?  Hi!
+come here!  I want you!" he called in the man's language.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The sweeper ran forward, and Alderbury gave him directions.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go to the car and bring me a small basket you will find on the seat."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The pariah returned and was directed to lift the lid, which he did.  As
+he held it open Alderbury took out a packet of sandwiches.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I may as well save time by eating my breakfast whilst I talk."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The food disappeared without any hindrance to the conversation, and the
+fact that it had been received from the pariah did not affect the
+missionary's appetite.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Put down the basket and give me that bottle and cup," said Alderbury
+to the man.  "Hold the cup while I pour."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The thermos flask was full of steaming coffee, and Alderbury took the
+brimming cup from the hand of the despised pariah, giving him back the
+flask to replace in the tiffin basket.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is Mrs. Hulver's own make; I never tasted better coffee.  You
+have got the same brew in that bottle, but without milk.  It should
+last you three or four days.  Boil your milk and add it to the cold
+coffee.  Don't heat the coffee or you will spoil the flavour.  I was to
+be sure and tell you this from Mrs. Hulver.  Good-bye and good luck go
+with your new venture.  Come along my man; bring that basket and put it
+in the motor."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The lesson was not without its effect although nothing was actually
+said.  Somehow when the Englishman accepted food from the hand of the
+pariah the action had a different complexion, and it set Ananda
+thinking.  Alderbury hoped it would bear good fruit, and help to make
+matters easier if the time should come when no food was obtainable
+except through the pariah.  He was anxious to be off, and he bade
+Ananda good-bye, parting with him at the entrance of the little yard
+where the gourd spread its vivid green foliage.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As he approached the gateway of the compound leading into the road a
+messenger met him with a request that he would come into the verandah
+in front of the house.  Pantulu Iyer desired a word with him.  Quite
+ready for an interview whatever might be its nature, hostile or
+friendly, he mounted the stone steps.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A few minutes elapsed before Pantulu, accompanied by his wife,
+appeared.  They approached silently, their hands placed together palm
+to palm, and stood before him with bowed heads.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sir!" began Pantulu, then he paused, unable to command his voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Speak, Pantulu Iyer; what do you wish to say?  I am ready to listen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury's gentle manner broke down the nervous constraint and opened
+the flood-gates of speech.  In a voice that was so charged with emotion
+as to be near breaking point, the old man prayed for the missionary's
+assistance in the restoration of his son, his only child.  There were
+numbers of others, he pleaded, who were ready and willing to join the
+Christian religion.  Their apostacy would not be felt by their
+families.  With him it was different.  In taking away his son the
+missionary deprived him and his father and grandfather of happiness in
+a future life.  Who was to perform the shraddah ceremonies when he,
+Pantulu, was dead, if his son Ananda refused to perform them?  The
+thought of his fate and the fate of his ancestors was intolerable,
+unbearable, appalling!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As he poured forth his entreaty Gunga's tears flowed down her haggard
+cheeks and fell upon the folds of her tawny silk saree.  Her grey hair
+was dishevelled, and its silvery strands were sprinkled with the dust
+she had thrown upon her head according to custom in overwhelming grief
+or misfortune.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Keenly sympathetic to human trouble at all times, Alderbury could not
+listen unmoved.  The appearance of both father and mother told its own
+tale, and he fully realised the havoc that had been wrought in one of
+the happiest homes of India.  It was ever the same, even from the very
+beginning of the story of Christianity, he thought with a sigh.  All
+pioneer work must run on similar lines; and although he knew that it
+was inevitable, his heart ached at the sight of their distress.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you feel thus about the future why not take the same path your son
+has taken?  He is right.  Go with him and you will find such joy and
+peace in your old age as you have never experienced before."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can the bullock learn a new method of drawing the cart after spending
+all its life under the yoke?  We cannot change at our age.  We must
+follow in the footsteps of our fathers.  Oh! sir! if you would only say
+the word, and bid my son remember his poor old father, all might yet be
+made right.  Let him conform outwardly, whatever he may believe
+inwardly, for our sake."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Yielding to a sudden impulse, Pantulu and his wife fell at Alderbury's
+feet, touching their foreheads to the ground.  By this time the tears
+were falling from the old man's eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Our son! our dearly loved son!  Give us back our child, our little
+one! the only child that was ever sent by the gods to bless us!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Not a word of reproach was mingled with the prayer which made it all
+the harder for the missionary to bear.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He cannot return to you.  You must go to him," repeated Alderbury.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sir! if you will bring him back to us&mdash;and he will come!  I know he
+will! if you so much as hold up your finger&mdash;I will give you a lac of
+rupees to build a temple for your God.  Your God is merciful and kind.
+He will take the church in exchange for the only son of two
+heart-broken parents.  He will be satisfied if you build it large and
+put much gold and jewels in the sacred place.  You shall have money and
+jewels and gold and silk and rich carpets and hangings&mdash;all these and
+more than you ask you shall have, if you will only give him back to us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Give him back to me, his mother!  Let me have my little one again! my
+little one whose tiny hands upon my neck awoke the mother-love within
+me," prayed the proud Gunga at his feet in abject humility.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was getting beyond Alderbury's endurance.  His human pity brought
+the tears to his eyes.  He bent over the prostrate figures.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I cannot grant your request even if I would.  There can be no return
+for your son.  You must go to him; he cannot come back to you.  May my
+God, the God of love and mercy, help you!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He turned and left the verandah.  In another ten seconds the car was
+speeding down the road hidden in a column of golden dust in the bright
+morning sunshine.
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center">
+<SPAN STYLE="letter-spacing: 4em">*****</SPAN><BR>
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The following morning, punctual to the minute, Ananda, accompanied by
+the Principal, entered the class room where he was to instruct
+twenty-seven boys whose ages ranged between twelve and fourteen.  He
+had already received his instructions, and was relieved to find that
+nothing was required of him in the teaching line otherwise than what he
+was easily able to perform.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The class had assembled and most of the boys were studying the lesson
+that was to be repeated.  There was a buzz of voices as each individual
+conned aloud the portion he had prepared.  A few talked together in low
+tones with a solemnity that would be strange in English schoolboys.
+Whether studying or chatting they all behaved quietly, with a total
+absence of trickery or exuberance of spirits.  This self-contained
+orderliness, peculiar to native children in India, renders it possible
+for a teacher to manage a class of fifty pupils.  Not only are the boys
+attentive, but many of them show an eagerness to learn which is
+surprising to the English master.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a sudden breathless hush as Wenaston entered; and
+twenty-seven pairs of eyes were fixed in rounded wonder upon the new
+teacher.  He was recognised by most of the boys.  Many of them belonged
+to families known to his own people.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He took his seat at the desk and began the lesson.  Wenaston, after
+listening a few minutes, nodded his head in approval and left the room.
+His own class of young men preparing for one of the higher examinations
+was waiting for him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At twelve o'clock the classes broke up and the boys went home to the
+midday meal.  It was customary to reassemble at half-past one for games
+in the playing-field and begin work again an hour later.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After lunch Wenaston put on his sun-topee and strolled into the
+cricket-field.  A few boys stood about in couples idly talking, but no
+game was in progress.  He called to one of the big boys and asked why
+there was no practice at the nets.  The reply was to the effect that
+most of the boys were leaving at once for home where their presence was
+required by their families, without waiting for afternoon school.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston was accustomed to the absence of his pupils on the occasion of
+domestic ceremonial; but it was usual to let him know beforehand.  The
+reason was sometimes stated but not always.  He passed on to his
+private sitting-room in the college where he had papers to look over.
+At three he went to the hall.  His class was small; so also were the
+classes of the other masters.  At half-past five the bell rang and the
+boys dispersed.  He met Ananda outside the building.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come in and see Miss Wenaston," he said.  "How did you get on this
+afternoon?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very well, indeed, sir, as far as my subject was concerned.  It is a
+great pleasure to go over the old ground again and renew my
+acquaintance with it.  I had very few boys this afternoon; only ten out
+of the twenty-seven turned up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There must be some public festival going on; for the other classes
+were also small.  Do you know what it is?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not a regular feast day, I am sure.  If there is anything of the kind
+it will be of a private nature: a wedding or a funeral.  I am in
+Coventry as you know, sir; and so I hear no news whatever."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope you will not have to remain long in that uncomfortable
+position.  You must establish yourself in a house of your own."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I intend to do so as soon as I can consult with my wife.  Up to the
+present I have not been allowed to see either her or the child."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will not leave without them?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; they must come with me.  As long as I remain in the house I have a
+better chance of obtaining an interview."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They found Eola in the garden looking at the roses.  Her favourites
+were all back in their places, a dozen beautiful <I>La France</I> plants.
+Whether they were the originals she could not say.  The pruning was
+always a severe process that deprived the bushes of individual features
+and made them all of one pattern.  Mrs. Hulver was not far off; and the
+gardener, beaming with satisfaction at the thought that his full wages
+were assured, was half concealed behind a bank of ferns where he was
+pretending to be very busy picking off dead leaves.  Eola greeted
+Ananda with a friendly welcome that set him at ease; talked of her
+roses and other matters of no importance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want to thank you, Miss Wenaston, for all that you sent yesterday by
+Mr. Alderbury," he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You must thank my housekeeper.  It was her thought.  Mrs. Hulver!  Mr.
+Ananda is very grateful to you for thinking of him in his need."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver, thus encouraged, approached and cast her shrewd grey eyes
+over the visitor.  His neat European dress and manner met with her
+approval.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am glad the food was acceptable.  I saw to the cooking of it myself.
+Mr. Alderbury told me that you had been obliged to live on
+biscuits&mdash;poor stuff for young stomachs.  What a man wants is a hot
+meal once a day.  There should be meat as well as bread or rice.  I
+wasn't able to send you any meat, Mr. Ananda."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't eat meat, so it was all right."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you like fish?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; and vegetables curried; but I have not tasted a curry since I
+landed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you've gone to bed hungry more often than not in spite of your
+biscuits.  As William&mdash;that was my second husband&mdash;used to say: 'Sharp
+stomachs make short tempers.'  The best temper will sour under
+starvation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A little later Ananda said good-bye and walked back to his father's
+house.  On the way he met Bopaul.  Mayita was his companion.
+Regardless of ill omens the brother had renewed his friendship with his
+sister; he took her for daily walks, avoiding the places where men and
+women congregated.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not afraid of being contaminated by the company of an outcaste?" said
+Ananda with some bitterness, as Bopaul turned to stroll part of the way
+with his friend.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; nor of being overshadowed by the widow," replied Bopaul with a
+light laugh.  "How are things going with you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda related the experience of the last week and his employment at
+the college, together with his plans for the future.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will certainly have to clear out of your father's house as soon as
+you can if you want any comfort."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall not go without my wife and child," said Ananda, with the old
+obstinacy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How is the child?" inquired Bopaul.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The child!  Is it ill that you ask?" said Ananda, startled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It had a fall the day you returned.  No effect was seen at first but a
+few days ago it complained of pain; and my mother, who went to see it,
+thought that it was ill, though not very bad.  Haven't they told you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hear nothing and I see nobody but the sweeper.  Bring me news if
+there is anything important to tell," said Ananda, trying in vain to
+hide the sudden anxiety that sprang up as he heard that the child was
+not well.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will," answered Bopaul, with a note of sympathy in his voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He stopped to turn back towards his own house, and Ananda passed on
+with downcast troubled eyes that failed to see how his friend stood
+watching him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor fellow!" thought Bopaul.  "They are making it very hard for him;
+but it is only what he might have expected.  There is more grit and
+endurance in him than I expected.  I thought he would have given in by
+this time.  Pantulu Iyer's brother has met his match, and he won't step
+into Ananda's shoes quite as easily as he thought."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The following morning Ananda arrived at the college, and was in his
+place punctually to the strike of the clock.  The bell rang but without
+response.  A strange silence prevailed in the college close, in the
+hall and in the class rooms.  Not a boy was visible.  The masters were
+in their places and the Principal in cap and gown on the platform ready
+to begin his lecture.  He waited a short time and then went to the
+Vice-principal's room, a native who had taken a good degree at
+Cambridge.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where are all the boys?" asked Wenaston, in some bewilderment.  "Is it
+a public festival?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Vice-principal paused before replying.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid, sir, that they are purposely absenting themselves," he
+said, reluctantly.  He had a great regard for his chief, and it went
+against the grain to say anything that might give him pain.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can you tell me the reason?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because you have appointed the son of Pantulu Iyer as a master in the
+school."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does the feeling run so strongly against him that they can carry it to
+this pitch?" replied Wenaston in some indignation.  "It is no concern
+of theirs what religion he professes.  His opinions are a personal
+matter as long as he keeps them to himself.  Did he mention the subject
+to his class yesterday?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, sir," the Vice-principal answered promptly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then it is outrageous that he should be ostracised in this manner."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston had been haunted by the dread of something of the kind ever
+since he had acceded to Alderbury's request; but he had not anticipated
+that it would come so soon, nor in such a practical form as a strike.
+The utmost he had expected was an inquiry on the part of the Government
+authorities, followed by a recommendation that the appointment should
+be cancelled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The sympathy in the town is all on the side of Ananda's parents.  You
+hardly realise, sir, what an appalling disaster it is for a high caste
+Hindu to lose a son in this way," remarked Wenaston's colleague.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You talk of him as if he were dead!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would have been less of a disaster if he had died in the Hindu
+faith before he became a Christian."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a pause.  The Principal was troubled and perplexed.  If the
+animosity towards Ananda was roused to such an extent as to produce
+these results something must be done and done promptly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If the feeling runs so high, I am afraid I shall be compelled to
+dispense with his services.  I shall be sorry to part with him for his
+own sake; I could see that he would have suited admirably as a master;
+his teaching is clear and lucid.  But I can't have the school emptied
+in this way.  You must help me to get out notices at once which will
+make it plain to the parents of the boys that the matter will be set
+right and another man will take the class."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dr. Wenaston had the unpleasant task before him of breaking the news to
+Ananda and of warning him that he must not be seen on the school
+premises again.  There was no objection to an occasional visit to the
+house.  Miss Wenaston would be pleased to see him at any time; but he
+must be careful to keep away from the class rooms and playing-fields.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda received the news in silence.  The sight of the empty rooms was
+enlightening and needed no comment.  He was not surprised when Dr.
+Wenaston intimated in polite and gentle speech that he could no longer
+permit him to appear in the college.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I had better leave at once, sir; as soon as the boys know that I am
+not here they will return," was Ananda's reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You understand the situation?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Quite; the absence of the boys is convincing."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His dejection touched the Englishman.  "I am sorry, very sorry for you.
+We must see what can be done in some other way.  I will write to Mr.
+Alderbury at once."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda turned his back on the silent rooms and walked towards the road.
+The residence of the Principal stood on his left fronting the other
+way.  Mrs. Hulver was in the back verandah, her eye scanning the
+landscape.  She called sharply to the butler.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ramachetty, go and tell that native gentleman over there that I want
+to speak to him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda, surprised at the summons, responded to her call.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come in, Mr. Ananda; I want a few words with you," was her greeting.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver bustled into her sitting-room, followed by her visitor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sit down," she said, in her expansive maternal manner.  "I have
+something to tell you.  Do you know that those imps of boys who ought
+to be in class are waiting outside about a hundred yards up the road?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are they, Mrs. Hulver?  What do they want?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Although he asked the question he was able to give a shrewd guess as to
+the reason of their presence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They want you; and they mean mischief.  You must just sit here for a
+while, and when the coast is clear you can get away safely.  I was in
+the town this morning.  I tell you it is in a ferment over your coming
+to the college, and it isn't safe for you to be seen about in broad
+daylight.  Those young limbs of mischief mean to do you some hurt."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This was the work of his uncle, he was convinced; but he did not
+express his thoughts aloud.  He thanked Mrs. Hulver for her kindly
+offices and sat down to wait.  She gave him a book to read, and did her
+best to make him feel at ease.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You stay and dine with me.  A good hot square meal will do you no
+harm.  It will be cooked by myself in the verandah and it will be ready
+soon after twelve&mdash;hot soup, fried fish, vegetable curry and stewed
+guavas; and we will eat it here in this room.  As William&mdash;that was my
+first husband&mdash;used to say: 'Better be in at the end of a feast than
+the beginning of a fight'&mdash;and a losing fight it will be for you, Mr.
+Ananda, if you get among those boys in their present temper."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap14"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XIV
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A surprise was in store for Mrs. Hulver the next morning in the shape
+of a telegram from her son.  He had arrived at Bangalore, and he
+proposed taking three days' leave to pay his mother a visit at once.
+Her head was fairly turned with delight, and she hurried off to tell
+the good news to her young mistress.  She thrust the telegram into
+Eola's hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Read it, miss.  You will have to go through it two or three times
+before you can take it all in; at least, I had to do so; but then I'm
+flurried; and as William&mdash;that was my second&mdash;used to say: 'Flurry
+never fires straight!'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can we manage to put him up?" asked Eola, wondering whether she ought
+to offer her pretty spare room to the young corporal.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Quite easily, miss.  A camp bed in my sitting-room will do nicely."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you sure that you would not like the spare room for him&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver interrupted her with a gesture of horror.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A common soldier in the spare room, miss! and the room just done up,
+too!  No, indeed!  A missionary may use it if he is a friend of the
+house; but Dr. Wenaston should not stoop any lower.  With the new
+curtains and carpet the room is fit for the Governor himself.  As
+William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say: 'The finest trappings in the
+world don't alter the breed of a horse.'  My son may look very smart in
+his corporal's uniform, but for all that he's only the son of a man in
+the ranks."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola's delicate sense of hospitality was not satisfied.  With the spare
+room empty she felt that the door should not be shut against an
+Englishman, whose character was perfectly respectable, but whose rank
+differed from her own.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If it is inconvenient to you to have him in the sitting-room, I should
+be very pleased to let him use the spare room," she said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver drew herself up with pride.  "I know my place, miss," she
+replied, severely, as much as to say: "and you ought to know yours."
+She continued: "Even if I could bring myself to let him use the spare
+room, I should know all the time that it would not be good for him.  As
+William&mdash;that was my first&mdash;used to say: 'Pride is a plant that needs
+neither water nor manure; it will grow fast enough by itself.'  My son
+William will make himself comfortable you may be sure; and his pride
+will not be fostered by the camp bed, for it's a little ricketty, to
+say nothing of being a bit hard.  My sitting-room will be like a palace
+to the boy after the barracks.  I'm not sure that I ought to let him
+sleep there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where else could you put him?" asked Eola in wonder, for she knew the
+limitations of the house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In a corner of the back verandah," replied Mrs. Hulver promptly.  "It
+would be very convenient to have him there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The night wind might give him fever."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's true, miss.  As William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say, when I
+rated him for leaning a little too far towards his failing:
+'Conveniences have their inconveniences and comforts their crosses.'
+Well, you mustn't keep me here gossiping or I shan't be ready for young
+William when he arrives.  He's due at three o'clock this very
+afternoon."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She bustled away, too full of William the second, junior, to note the
+smile with which Eola received the intimation that it was she who was
+detaining Mrs. Hulver.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At twelve o'clock Wenaston came in.  He was earlier than usual.  As a
+rule he did not appear till the lunch bell rang at one.  Eola seated in
+the verandah looked up as she heard his step.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well?  What's the news?  How are things going?" she asked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Badly! very badly!  Only a quarter of the boys returned this morning.
+It will take a week or ten days to regain their confidence, and the
+loss of time will have an effect on my results.  I would not have
+believed that so much feeling could have existed over the matter had I
+not seen its consequences."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did you hear how he got home yesterday?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not without accident.  You know, perhaps, that he came here after
+leaving college at Mrs. Hulver's invitation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She told me that he had lunched with her," Eola replied.  "I was glad
+to think that the poor fellow had had a good midday dinner.  She said
+that it was the first hot meal he had eaten since he left the boat at
+Bombay."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It wasn't to give him food that she asked him in.  She heard through
+the servants that a party of the boys were lying in wait to
+rough-handle him on his way home; and this was her way of preventing
+mischief."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wonder they dared to think of such a thing!" said Eola, with some
+indignation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They not only thought of it but they nearly succeeded in carrying out
+their design.  Ananda left Mrs. Hulver's room in the afternoon, she
+having made sure that the boys were tired of waiting and had dispersed.
+At her advice he did not take the direct road home, but went round by a
+path not often used.  Near his house he was obliged to walk along the
+road and as bad luck would have it, he met two of my boys&mdash;men they
+might more properly be called.  They rushed at him with their sticks.
+He sprinted for home and escaped with a cut or two over the head."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course he will prosecute the boys for assault," said Eola.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He would do so if this were British territory; but being a native
+state, he, as a Christian, has no civil rights, no standing in a court
+of law.  He can gain no redress; he hasn't even the power to bind them
+over to keep the peace."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you written to Mr. Alderbury?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wrote yesterday morning, and I have just had his reply by wire.  He
+wants me to send Ananda to him at once.  He has an opening for him and
+can find him employment before long.  Meanwhile he will be glad to have
+him as his guest at the mission bungalow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You must see Ananda and tell him so; it will be a little consolation
+for the poor fellow, perhaps."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's just my difficulty," replied Wenaston in perplexity.  "It
+isn't safe for him to show his face outside his father's premises."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are not ill-treating him inside the house, I hope," said Eola,
+with sudden anxiety.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing beyond humiliating him as much as possible by giving him the
+services of a sweeper, and cutting off the supplies of food.  If it
+goes no further I don't think any bodily harm can happen to him as long
+as he stays at home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Alderbury must come and advise him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He says in his wire that he can't pay us another visit just yet.  We
+must do our best without him.  I ought to go to Ananda's house, I
+suppose, since he can't come to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It won't take you long; not more than five minutes to get to the house
+if you go in the car."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It isn't the time I am thinking of but the welfare of the college and
+my covenant with the Maharajah.  I undertook not to meddle in any
+religious matters."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola laid her hand on her brother's arm.  "Leave it to me," she said,
+"I will undertake to let Ananda know.  Keep clear of the affair and get
+your pupils back as quickly as you can."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You ought not to go to Pantulu's house," he rejoined quickly, as his
+eyes rested on her in doubt.  "I don't know what sort of a reception
+you will get.  You must not run any risk of rousing unpleasantness that
+I could not overlook."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I promise you I will not run any risk nor get myself into trouble.  I
+can manage, I think, to have your message delivered without going
+myself to Ananda's house.  Will you tell me exactly what it is?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have no other instructions than what are contained in the telegram.
+I shall have a letter to-morrow giving me more particulars.  Meanwhile
+Ananda should be privately warned that he must be ready to leave not
+later than to-morrow evening by the night mail."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Shall we lend him the car?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There again the difficulty occurs of assistance being rendered by me
+to an out-caste member of an important caste family, a member who is
+under the ban of the family's displeasure.  No; he had better go by
+rail.  The native chauffeur would sell the secret for a couple of
+rupees.  I can't drive him myself; I haven't the time, and it would be
+risky."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Alderbury will have to come and take Ananda away himself," said
+Eola, unconsciously ready to believe that a visit was necessary.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If so he must not do it from this house," said Wenaston decisively.
+"But before anything can be settled as to ways and means, we must
+communicate with Ananda and find out what his wishes are."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The simplest way is to write a letter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But it would be difficult to deliver it.  It would never reach his
+hand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston lunched and returned to the college.  The boys were assembled
+in the playing-field, and his spirits revived somewhat when he noted
+that at the summons of the bell they entered the class rooms in greater
+numbers than in the morning.  He had an interview with the
+Vice-principal before afternoon school began.  At four o'clock he came
+into the verandah for tea.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you done anything about communicating with Ananda?" he asked of
+Eola.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing beyond writing him a letter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Impossible to get it conveyed to him!" he exclaimed.  "You mustn't go
+any further with the business.  I have been talking to Rama Krishna, my
+Vice, and he implores me to remain strictly neutral for the sake of the
+school if for nothing else.  He says that if I intend to help Ananda I
+may be able to do so later; but that at present I must be rigidly
+neutral."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It seems rather hard not to lend a helping hand," said Eola, whose
+pity was roused.  "I can't quite reconcile my conscience to a course of
+total inaction.  Whatever the Vice may say&mdash;and he is a heathen&mdash;we
+ought not to withhold any assistance that may be in our power to give
+him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rama Krishna assures me again and again that I can best help Ananda by
+remaining neutral.  I shall only provoke the town as well as the family
+to open hostilities."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does he show any animosity towards Ananda?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"None whatever.  His life at the English University taught him
+tolerance.  He recommends me to get the boys back at all costs as soon
+as possible.  A mission agent like Alderbury is the right person to
+give the help required, and it is unfortunate that he cannot come just
+now.  He argues that the missionary is paid to make converts and to
+help them; and the natives recognise the fact.  Because he is paid to
+proselytise, they are ready to tolerate more from him than from an
+unpaid agent.  It is equally well known that I am paid to teach and not
+to proselytise.  This is a country that expects nothing more from a man
+than what he is paid for.  Anything done in excess of the purchased
+duty must have, in public opinion, some hidden motive."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can't people understand that your motive in helping Ananda is a
+religious one?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; and it seems impossible to convince them otherwise.  Even the
+Vice, though he knows me so well, had a suspicion that there was a
+mercenary motive underlying my desire to assist Ananda.  He suspected
+that I was working for a reward from Alderbury or for a bribe from the
+family.  I think he inclined to the latter theory; but he was careful
+to hide his suspicions as they were not complimentary to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope you undeceived him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I pretended not to see which way his thoughts leaned.  What have you
+done with your letter?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I gave it to Mrs. Hulver.  I explained the case to her, thinking she
+might contrive to have it conveyed somehow to Ananda without discovery."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston rose at once.  "It won't do," he said.  "There must be no
+communication between this house and Ananda's.  I'll see Mrs. Hulver
+myself and tell her my wishes.  She must understand definitely what
+they are."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He passed through the house towards the back verandah into which Mrs.
+Hulver's room opened.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor Ananda!" thought Eola.  "Will he have the courage to hold out?  I
+am afraid my courage would melt away before such a fire of persecution
+as he seems to be meeting."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston presented himself at the door of Mrs. Hulver's sitting room.
+She met him with a broad smile of pleasure.  Just behind her stood a
+man in uniform, the mother's smile reflected on his face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is William, my son, sir.  He has just arrived from Bangalore.
+He's the very image of his father.  Stand forward and let Dr. Wenaston
+look at you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She pushed the shy awkward young soldier forward.  He stood at
+attention as if confronting his colonel and lifted his hand in a
+military salute.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very glad to see you, Smith.  So he is like his father is he?" he said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are as like as two peas, sir, in every respect but one.  My son
+takes after his grandmother on my side in his complexion.  He is darker
+than his father, who was very fair.  But as William&mdash;that was my
+first&mdash;used to say if any one remarked on his being dark: 'Human blood
+is all of one colour no matter what sort of a skin may cover it.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope you had a good voyage out," said the Principal.  "Sit down,
+Smith, I have come to speak to your mother.  Mrs. Hulver, Miss Wenaston
+entrusted you with a letter to deliver to Mr. Ananda.  Will you kindly
+give it back to me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver produced the letter and handed it to Wenaston, glancing at
+him with a natural curiosity which brought forth an explanation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You learned from Miss Wenaston what this letter contained?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, sir; it was to show Mr. Ananda a way out of his troubles.  He has
+got himself into rather a tight corner.  As William&mdash;that was my
+second&mdash;used to say: 'Think twice before you tie a knot that you can't
+undo.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want you to understand my position fully, Mrs. Hulver.  I am not
+able, I am sorry to say, to give Mr. Ananda any protection from the
+towns-people nor from his family.  Assistance on my part would be
+looked upon as a breaking of my covenant with the Maharajah when he
+sanctioned my appointment to the college.  I hope that you will be
+careful not to do anything which will compromise me in this matter."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You may rely on me, sir, for not burning my own fingers nor setting
+your house on fire by meddling with other people's candles.  I am sorry
+for the poor young man, but after all he has brought it on himself.  As
+William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say (he was the one who changed his
+religion to marry me): 'If you sow brambles you must expect to tread on
+thorns.'  Mr. Ananda told me all about himself as he sat here waiting
+till those young imps of budmashes had gone home.  I heard in the
+bazaar this morning that he had been set upon near his own house; but
+he managed to get in without being much hurt."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; that was so.  You pick up all the news in the market."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Hulver complacently.  She prided herself on
+possessing an accurate knowledge of the daily events of the town and
+Ramachetty was well aware that one of the roads to her favour was by
+way of the gossip that was reliable.  Woe betide the unfortunate
+servant, however, who carried false news!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do they say in the town about the school?" asked Wenaston.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That the boys will all be back by the end of the week.  Don't you
+worry, sir, over those little budmashes.  The school is known to be the
+best in the State under your superintendence.  You have no need to run
+after pupils.  They will run after you if you bide your time.  As
+William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say when I went into the garden to
+call him in to dinner: 'No occasion for the cook to hunt up the hungry;
+they won't fail to be where the food is when they're empty.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Anyway I must be careful to see that nothing is done to give offence
+to the parents of the boys," said Wenaston, anxious to press home his
+orders.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I understand, sir.  We are to let Mr. Ananda alone.  It shall be as
+you wish, of course.  I pity him, I'm sure; but all the same, I would
+rather not be mixed up with his change of religion.  It's turning out a
+bigger job than he thought.  As William&mdash;that was my second&mdash;used to
+say: 'When a man bites off a bigger bit than he can chew, he can't look
+for any assistance from other men's teeth.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The school bell rang and Wenaston, punctuality itself, turned away to
+obey its call.  Mrs. Hulver hastened to add her last word which, as
+usual, was the reflected wisdom of one of the departed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say after I had scolded him for
+leaning a little too far over towards his weakness: 'A stormy morning
+brings a clear evening, Maria, me dear, so perhaps your breath has not
+been wasted.'  Everything will come right in the end if you give it
+time."  Then, as Wenaston hurried away, she turned to her son.
+"William, you sit in the back verandah whilst I change my dress.  We'll
+take a walk in the town and look at the boutiques in the bazaar."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Twenty minutes later Mrs. Hulver issued from her bedroom a very
+different figure from the white clothed housekeeper, who with cook and
+butler behind her, went marketing in the morning.  Even William,
+junior, who had just come from London, was impressed by the glossy
+purple silk that "stood by itself," the white lace scarf and floral
+bonnet; to say nothing of the odds and ends of glittering jewellery
+that adorned her ample bust.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mother and son, in purple silk and scarlet uniform, presented a patch
+of colour on the green landscape that was arresting to the most
+careless eye.  The sensation created in the town was considerable.  It
+was a kind of triumphal progress.  Being fluent in the native language
+she explained who the stranger was, introducing him to the merchants
+sitting behind their stalls and to the few Eurasians who lived in
+Chirapore.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul, sauntering along the street, was attracted by the sight of a
+British soldier, and stopped to inquire his name.  Mrs. Hulver hastened
+to explain with maternal pride and returned the compliment by asking
+about the identity of the questioner.  The sun touched the horizon
+before she thought of home.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Time to be going back, William.  As your father used to say: 'Keep
+time as if it was your best friend, and take care you don't kill it or
+waste it or lose it."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap15"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XV
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola sat with her brother after dinner as usual at the end of the
+verandah where there was shelter from the night air.  Wenaston read,
+and Eola finding his society dull, retired early to her room.  The
+servants had gone to their go-downs at the back of the compound to eat
+their evening meal.  The cicalas whirred in the foliage of the
+oleanders, and a brown owl screamed in its shikarring flight over the
+roof of the house.  Above the noises of the night was heard a step on
+the carriage drive.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston rose and went to the top of the verandah steps.  Two men stood
+under the portico keeping in the shadow of the ornamental shrubs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who is there?" he asked in a low voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One of the visitors came forward into the light and Wenaston recognised
+Bopaul.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, it's you, is it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, sir; I have brought Ananda.  He wants to see you about Mr.
+Alderbury's offer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston descended the steps and they retreated together out of reach
+of the lamp light.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did you hear of it?" he asked in some surprise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a slight pause and then Bopaul explained that he had heard of
+it and had told Ananda.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"From the telegraph clerk, I suppose," said Wenaston.  "If he knows it
+the whole town knows it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps; but Ananda's people have not been told."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So much the better; it will make it easier for you to get away," said
+Wenaston addressing Ananda.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have come to see you to-night, sir, to say that I have decided not
+to accept Mr. Alderbury's invitation.  I shall be glad if you will
+write and tell him so.  I have sent a letter which Bopaul posted for
+me; but it will be as well if you will add your word to mine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston listened in surprise.  He had concluded that the visit was
+made for the purpose of raising money for the journey.  It had not
+crossed his mind that the invitation would be refused.  He gazed at his
+visitors in the darkness as though he had not heard correctly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you wise to remain here after the hostile demonstration we have
+experienced in the college?  I am afraid it won't end there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would be cowardly to run away," said Ananda in a firm voice that
+betokened determination backed by courage.  "I have reasons for
+remaining under my father's roof.  I am attached to my parents and&mdash;&mdash;"
+he hesitated for a moment and then added quickly, "and to my wife and
+child.  If these two would come with me I would go to-morrow, or even
+to-night; but I won't leave Chirapore without them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not sure that you are acting wisely; though I can't deny that it
+is courageous.  You need not stay away for ever.  You might return at
+any time.  Popular antagonism will die down if you are not here to keep
+it alive; and your family might become more reconciled to the step you
+have taken."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They might; on the other hand they might consider me as dead; and then
+think of the fate of my wife."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They would regard her as a widow, you mean."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The case is exceptional and without precedent in Chirapore.  They are
+more likely to consider the marriage annulled by my departure, and to
+give my wife to another man.  That shall not be as long as I have an
+arm to protect her.  She is mine; mine by right of past possession and
+she shall be mine in the future."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Even Bopaul was impressed by the new attitude of his friend.  The
+weakness had disappeared in a marvellous manner, and every trace of
+timidity had vanished.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You might gain immediate possession of your wife if you would give up
+your new faith, and place yourself unreservedly in the hands of the
+guru and purohit," remarked Bopaul probing the new found courage with
+curiosity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda turned on him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That I will never do.  I may have to suffer for it.  Others have
+suffered for their religious opinions before now.  I will keep my faith
+and I will have my wife and child.  My father may disinherit me but he
+cannot deprive me of my son; and where the son is the mother will
+follow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have no power as a Christian over your child," said Wenaston,
+feeling that it would be wrong to leave him in ignorance of his true
+position.  "The law of the State will not give you the custody of him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who says so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He named the native lawyer whom Alderbury had consulted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As long as you remain in the State of Chirakul you are in the position
+of an outlaw, deprived of your citizenship, your legal standing, your
+civil rights.  As soon as you set foot in British India you resume your
+rights and can claim protection and justice in the courts of law
+belonging to the territory; although of course you can't obtain redress
+against this State.  Hadn't you better go where your rights will be
+respected and where you will have religious freedom?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If things grow hopeless I might do so; but at present I wish to remain
+here and show my parents that I have no intention of running away.  On
+the contrary I am going to fight for my rights."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again Bopaul's eyebrows were uplifted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Were you hurt, by the by, yesterday?" asked Wenaston.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing to speak of.  I had a nasty blow on my head; but beyond a head
+ache I am none the worse, thank you, sir.  We won't keep you any
+longer.  I shall be glad if you will let Mr. Alderbury know that I am
+grateful.  At the same time make him understand that I have made up my
+mind to adopt this course, and that I am not likely to change.  I think
+he will approve of my facing the situation instead of running away from
+it.  And tell him also that I mean to fight for my wife and child."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston turned back into the verandah and took up his book; but his
+attention wandered, and a little later he gave up attempting to read.
+As he extinguished the lamp he said to himself; "I wonder how much
+endurance the man has; and how much he will require to carry him
+through his troubles.  Where would the Christianity of some of us be if
+we were outlawed; and bashed on the head; and deprived of our wives and
+children?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After bidding Dr. Wenaston good night Bopaul and his companion walked
+home by unfrequented paths to avoid chance pedestrians.  There was not
+much danger of molestation unless Ananda deliberately put himself in
+the way of it.  No concerted action was likely to be taken at present;
+and his prompt disappearance from the college went far to allay the
+irritation that had sprung up so suddenly among the students.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The two friends parted in silence except for a few whispered words from
+Bopaul to the effect that he would look him up on the morrow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul's attitude towards his friend was curious.  He had no sympathy
+with his conversion to Christianity.  He regarded the action as
+inexpedient and bordering on foolishness.  His opinion was that it had
+been carried out in haste, and without due consideration of all the
+different issues involved.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His friendship with Ananda was of long standing, dating from early
+childhood, and the two men were attached to each other by ties of
+affection that could not be easily broken.  It grieved Bopaul to see
+his friend living in discomfort, and he was ready as far as he was able
+to render any little service that might be within his power.  The
+English training had fostered an independence of thought with tolerance
+for the opinions of others; and it showed its effects in Bopaul's
+character.  He took an independent line of action with regard to his
+friend as well as his sister.  According to the unwritten law of caste
+the widow and the outlaw should have been ruthlessly thrust from his
+life.  Instead of abandoning them to their fate he maintained a
+brotherly love for one and a friendly affection for the other.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Of the two Ananda interested him the more.  He found himself studying
+the development of his friend's character under the fire of adversity.
+Obstinacy had already given birth to courage, and courage was breeding
+patience.  Ananda's refusal to take flight roused his admiration.  The
+firmly expressed determination to gain possession of his wife and child
+appealed to the romance that is inherent in all human beings, and of
+which Bopaul had a full share.  In addition curiosity as to how the
+affair would end helped to retain his attention and interest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul continued his habit of taking Mayita for a walk every day.  This
+daily outing, sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening, was
+the breath of life to the girl.  She lived for it; it was the one ray
+of veritable sunshine that entered her darkened life.  Perhaps it was
+the knowledge of this fact that made the brother sacrifice everything
+else to the little daily act of charity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They were a strange couple, the brother and sister; and more than one
+pair of inquisitive eyes looked after them as they strolled towards the
+forest.  At first his mother shook her head over the arrangement.  She
+even went so far as to try and stop it by setting Mayita tasks that
+would keep her occupied when her brother called for her to come.
+Bopaul with his casual manner, that was none the less insistent for all
+its apparent indifference, over-ruled his mother by seeking out Mayita
+and carrying her away from her unfinished work regardless of her
+protests.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let be, wife; and trouble not yourself.  You need have no fear that
+our son will offend against the laws of caste," said his father.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not that which I fear; it is the bad luck the widow may bring
+upon him," returned the anxious mother.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Many men who have travelled have learned to disregard our omens.  As
+long as the boy doesn't follow in Ananda's steps I am content."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is not likely to do that if we may believe the guru.  The swami was
+satisfied that his faith in our gods was not shaken."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If it had been shaken he would not have performed all the ceremonies
+that were necessary on his return.  Be content and let the boy go which
+way he pleases.  A little liberty in the field will keep the bullock
+from straying into the forest where the tiger lies."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul's mother was of too indolent a disposition to seek unnecessary
+trouble.  Having spoken to her husband she rested in the comfortable
+assurance that responsibility was shifted on to his shoulders.  She put
+no more obstacles in the way of the walks, and they were continued to
+Bopaul's satisfaction and the girl's intense delight.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was in her fourteenth year, but she looked older.  During the last
+few months she had lost all trace of childishness and had matured like
+most Hindu girls of that age.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As they walked, Mayita's hand in his, he told her of that wonderful
+country in the west where he had lived for more than three years among
+white people; where there was no caste; where widows after two years of
+mourning dressed themselves like other women with gold and jewels, and
+married again if they chose.  She interrupted him to express her horror
+of such depravity on the part of widows in any country civilised or
+savage.  She herself would sink into the earth with shame if she were
+asked to pursue such an outrageous course.  He described the life on
+board the big ship; the wide blue water with no land visible; the storm
+and tumbling waves with their white crests.  Then he took her in
+imagination to Bombay where the pictures he drew were easier to
+realise; and he told her of the crowded streets, the tall houses and
+the magnificent carriages of the Governor and native princes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Now and then they stopped.  Bopaul seated himself upon a boulder or a
+fallen tree and read a book.  Mayita gathered flowers, and had it not
+been for her sad condition the sweet blossoms would have been pushed
+into the strands of her hair; but the luxuriant black locks were gone
+and the bare shaven pate in its widowed condition offered no temptation
+for floral adornment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sometimes she played a little game by herself with sticks and stones
+and leaves to represent the feast at which she would never again be
+present.  She bade the imaginary guests welcome and served them with
+make-believe dainties.  She paid them compliments and dismissed them
+with gifts of attar of rose and pan-supari, as she had seen her mother
+treat her real guests in the old days before Coomara died.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then Bopaul would close his book and call to her to come home.  On
+their way they sometimes stopped at Pantulu's house; and Bopaul leaving
+her under the trees by the compound wall sought Ananda in his little
+room.  The solitary man responded eagerly, and joined his friend with
+an alacrity that showed how the little act of kindness was appreciated.
+They paced to and fro at the end of the compound furthest from the
+house, till it was time for Mayita to return once more to the women's
+quarters of her father's house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+No one interfered to stop the intercourse.  If Bopaul liked to seek out
+his friend, he was welcome to do so; and if he brought his widowed
+sister with him there was no one to say him nay.  He was at liberty to
+please himself; but to those who happened to observe the trio it seemed
+a strange way of amusing himself, to choose a widow as his companion
+and to visit an out-caste.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Unknown to Ananda one of the most interested watchers of his movements
+was Dorama his wife.  Hidden from all eyes she gazed through the chink
+of a shutter at the familiar figure in the distance.  The boyishness
+was gone; it was the form of a man, a strong well-set-up man who would
+find favour with any woman.  In spite of all that had happened he was
+still her husband.  The thought thrilled her with a strange
+restlessness and longing.  It was very hard&mdash;it was almost unbearable
+to be separated thus.  Did he yearn for her as she yearned for him?  He
+could not or he would break down every barrier and come to her.  He
+would submit to the ceremonies for the restoration of his caste.  He
+would obey every order given by guru or purohit.  He would allow
+nothing, nothing!&mdash;nothing!&mdash;to stand between them and keep them apart.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The tears coursed down her cheeks in anger and disappointment.  At one
+moment she could have scratched and bitten him for the contumacy that
+was costing her so much misery; at another she could have devoured him
+with passionate kisses.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Meanwhile all unconscious of the secret watcher Bopaul and Ananda
+talked.  They spoke in English mindful of listening ears.  A little
+cross-examining of Mayita would elicit all she knew of what passed in
+conversation.  It was best for those concerned that there should be no
+tale-bearing.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You don't realise the greatness of your old faith," Bopaul was saying
+as they strolled under the shade of the trees that bordered the
+compound.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can it be great when it fails to satisfy?" objected Ananda.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"First let me show you that Hinduism is great by the light of its past
+history," said Bopaul eagerly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He plunged into much the same story as Alderbury had told Eola.  He
+described the antiquity of Hinduism; its marvellous organisation; its
+power of absorbing the conquered races; and he extolled the system of
+caste.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda listened and at the conclusion he remarked, "Caste and the power
+of the Brahman are being already undermined."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In what way?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have apologists for their existence.  If either were divine in
+origin there would be no necessity for an apology."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I deny that the system of caste is being undermined.  It may have
+overgrown itself and need pruning.  Some of the senseless subdivisions
+should be broken up; and we want reform in our marriage laws&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His eyes sought the figure of his sister as she gathered some starry
+blue flowers growing among the rank grass.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Even if the caste system were reformed," objected Ananda, "and the
+greatness of Hinduism established in the world, there are certain
+tenets of its faith that seem to me impossible for an educated and
+enlightened man to accept."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Such as&mdash;&mdash;?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Transmigration."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, yes; I remember.  That was the rock you split on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I cannot accept the weary round of those cycles of rebirths."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You accept a cycle of existence of some sort?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Existence; life; immortality of the soul; yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Which implies existence prenatal and after physical death?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly; Mr. Alderbury says that the germ of that idea lies hidden
+in most religions."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you admit so much, why can't you accept the transmigration theory?
+It accounts for all the suffering that exists.  It is a retributive
+system of perfect justice.  The pains you suffer now are due solely to
+your own actions in a previous embodiment; and your conduct now will
+predetermine your pleasure and pain in your next incarnation.  To me it
+is an acceptable theory relieving one of an enormous responsibility."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you really believe such a theory in its entirety, why do you
+attempt to give that child pleasure?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul laughed but made no reply, and Ananda continued:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The hopeless retributive character of the theory of transmigration
+seems to militate against our faith in the transcendence of God.  The
+system imposes limits not consistent with His Infinitude.
+Transmigration may seem just and right from a human point of view; but
+it is too full of tragedy to be seriously regarded as the deliberate
+work of an unlimited Deity."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It does away with injustice," persisted Bopaul.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And grinds existence down to a mechanism," added Ananda.
+"Christianity gives something infinitely superior&mdash;a good and perfect
+God.  The knowledge of this Deity has come to us through Jesus Christ.
+He has shown us not a retributive mechanical Deity, but a great and
+wonderful Father who deals with us better than we deserve.  Though men
+may by their freedom of choice choose what ought to bring them to ruin,
+the desire of God expressed through Christ, the great teacher, is to
+save them from the consequences of their actions."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What good can pain and suffering do if it is not a mill of
+retribution?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is an education and a discipline in the government of self.  I
+speak personally for I have felt my position in my father's house more
+than a little.  You may not see any change in my character, but I know
+that my views on the brotherhood of man and the Fatherhood of God have
+altered.  I don't mind confessing that my attitude towards the pariah
+who acted as my servant by my parents' orders has modified.  They
+thought to humiliate me, but they have taught me a lesson.  I recognise
+his humanity and his good qualities."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yet you can't take the food he brings you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, I can't; to my shame be it said; for it distresses him to see me
+starve.  There's a wide gulf between theory and practice in his case,
+and for the present I prefer to starve."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor, weak, human nature!" said Bopaul with a laugh in which Ananda
+joined, although the subject was no laughing matter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And if pain comes into the life of a child who is not old enough to
+have sinned; how do you account for it?" asked Bopaul returning to the
+charge.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To reply in detail to this and similar objections would require a
+greater knowledge of the spiritual world than even the apostles
+themselves possessed.  'Now we see through a glass darkly,' said St.
+Paul.  Later illumination will assuredly come.  The curtain was partly
+lifted when Christ was born.  At His second coming it will be entirely
+raised, and by that time our eyes will be strong enough to bear the
+light."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was silence which Bopaul broke with another question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does the missionary teach you that after death comes sleep?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No; there is no stagnation in the spiritual world any more than there
+is in the material world.  The souls of the departed are possessed of
+conscious memory, and they have a sense of pain and pleasure.  I
+believe," he spoke solemnly and with shining eyes that seemed to look
+beyond the limit of the Hindu's mental vision, "that Coomara instead of
+being reborn as a dog or a reptile in this world has entered into new
+powers of vitality and energy in a spiritual world that far exceeds the
+limitations of this world.  He lived a blameless life according to his
+lights, and he has entered into another life in which there will be
+progression and development.  With his entry into that new life he will
+acquire new powers of comprehension.  There will be a great movement
+forward in spirituality between his state here on earth and the new
+estate in the world he has entered.  The step will be as great or
+greater than if a dog entered the human life and were endowed with
+human privileges."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Excepting that he died under the ban of broken caste, Coomara was
+without faults," acquiesced Bopaul.  "But I cannot disregard the
+teaching of the guru who says that because of that broken caste he must
+suffer."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I say in all honest hope," cried Ananda in ringing tones that
+caused the widow to glance at him in surprise.  "I say that through the
+power of the Christian's Man-God, Jesus Christ, the Great All-Father in
+His mercy and love will receive Coomara to Himself, and preserve him
+from the fate you anticipate.  I think upon his prospects almost with
+envy.  There was a time when I could only shudder in terror at what was
+promised by our faith; but now I am satisfied that he is happy."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The Hindu faith does not deny a progression towards a better state
+after death," said Bopaul.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"May be; but it limits improvement to merit; and the merit is made to
+depend not only upon the past deeds of the dead, but also upon the
+voluntary deeds of the living descendants of the dead.  A neglect of
+the shraddah ceremonies by the grandchildren to the fourth generation
+condemns the soul to inferior rebirth.  Those rites for the repose of
+the dead are monstrous in their assumption and ridiculous in their
+childish nature."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All rites seem ridiculous and meaningless if you judge them by their
+action alone," said Bopaul.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yet you perform them slavishly," said Ananda turning on him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul laughed as though he shook off all responsibility for the reason
+of his actions.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am what that Englishman called his friend, do you remember? 'a
+blatant ritualist.'  I love ceremonies.  They give me a comfortable
+sense of having done my duty to the gods and to men.  I feel as if I
+had got out of debt and was starting afresh with a clean page."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you really believe in them?" asked Ananda searching the face of the
+other in a vain endeavour to penetrate the superficial lightness with
+which Bopaul touched these matters.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The purohit and the guru believe in them.  My father pins his faith to
+them, and I am content to take their word for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I am not!  To my mind the three great props of Hinduism are
+crumbling away in spite of your blind faith&mdash;transmigration, the
+immaculate authority of the Brahmans and their Vedas; and the caste
+system."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Rank treason!" cried Bopaul roused at last into something approaching
+excitement.  "It is as well that the guru doesn't hear you!  Caste will
+never die; it will change its constitution and become more social than
+religious.  The Vedas will have new exponents and the germs that lie
+hidden in them will be brought to light and understood.  Transmigration
+will be modified with a new theory of progression in a life in other
+spheres under different conditions of corporality from the earthly
+life; and Hinduism reformed will be greater than ever."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It can only be done through Christ," responded Ananda with the
+enthusiasm of the convert.  "Christianity will develop all the germs
+that lie fallow in Hinduism and will throw light in the dark places.
+Why is the west to monopolise a revelation that was originally given to
+the east?  Why is the west to appropriate to itself the emancipation
+and promises made by that revelation?  We have a right to claim Christ
+for ourselves," he concluded.  "I for one make that claim and no one
+shall deny me!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again there was silence.  Then Bopaul, without any outward sign of
+excitement, remarked:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Haste is an evil counsellor.  You are asking for trouble and you will
+get it.  Tell me, have you had a decent lodging or meal since you have
+been under your father's roof?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda calmed down under the material inquiry after his bodily welfare,
+and he replied in a subdued voice:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, and I am not likely to get one as far as I can see unless, as I
+said, I accept it at the hands of the sweeper."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you exist?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have some biscuits and I buy a draught of water from the caste
+waterman in the town.  Mr. Alderbury very kindly brought me some food
+when he came to see me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't bring you any food I am sorry to say.  My mother would
+consider it an unfriendly act towards your parents.  How is your money
+lasting?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is nearly finished."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I haven't thought about it," replied Ananda, a troubled expression
+overshadowing his face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can lend you a little.  I brought it to-day, a ten rupee note.  It
+is all I have that I need not account for.  I can get plenty from my
+father, but he takes good care to inform himself of how and where it
+goes.  The note is in this envelope.  Don't let my sister see it; she
+might tell my mother.  Just slip it into your pocket as quickly as you
+can."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He held out his hand to Mayita.  "Come, little one, it is time we went
+home."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At the entrance to the compound Bopaul stopped.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Take my advice and go to Mr. Alderbury," he said suddenly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not without my wife."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She will never join you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That remains to be proved," replied Ananda unconvinced.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And remember that as a 'vert you have no conjugal rights," to which
+remark the other did not reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama still furtively watching saw Ananda return slowly and enter the
+mean little yard into which his still meaner room opened.  The smell of
+the curry prepared for the midday meal of the household met her
+nostrils.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How does he continue to live and look so strong and handsome?  He
+refuses to eat the food sent by the sweeper.  Ah! it should be given by
+my hand, the hand of his wife.  It is my right.  Husband! come to me!
+In your need, your hunger, cannot you hear the voice of your wife
+calling!"
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap16"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XVI
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The house of Pantulu Iyer was neither cheerful nor happy.  The master
+himself had aged visibly since the arrival of his son.  The signs were
+to be seen in the stooping figure and listless gait.  He had grown
+thinner, and his appetite was failing.  No matter how carefully the
+food was prepared he refused to eat, complaining sometimes that it was
+not palatable; at other times he asked with a querulousness that was
+not habitual, how they could expect him to eat when he knew that his
+dearly loved son was starving.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+All day long he sat and moped either in the verandah of the inner
+courtyard, or in the front room that opened by the big door on the
+carriage drive.  The door was kept shut and he seldom passed beyond it.
+If a friend came to call he refused to see him; and if any member of
+the family with the best intentions of amusing him attempted to talk to
+him, he dismissed him curtly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His gloom had a depressing effect on his wife; and for the sake of the
+household as well as her own she begged him to rouse himself.  She
+suggested visits to his looms in the town and to his silk farms in the
+suburbs.  The office books were brought, and at her direction his
+younger brother read aloud the carefully-kept accounts, showing how the
+business had increased and how the prosperity of his ventures was
+assured; but these and all other devices failed to rouse his interest.
+With the aptitude for fostering misery, a peculiarity of fatalism, he
+resigned himself to his circumstances and refused to make any struggle
+against what he believed to be the inevitable.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In addition to the anxiety caused by her husband's melancholia, Gunga
+was further disturbed by the state of her grandson's health.  At the
+time when Dorama let him fall from her unconscious arms he had not
+shown any sign of having sustained any injury.  Beyond a few bruises no
+serious harm was apparent.  At the end of a week the child complained
+of pains in his back and hip.  He lost his activity and his good
+spirits; was disinclined to move and was always craving to be nursed by
+his mother or one of the women of the house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A prompt examination of the hip and spine by a skilled surgeon might
+have discovered the mischief and given relief; but skilled surgery was
+not obtainable from the native apothecary nor from the native doctor.
+A vaityan&mdash;as the Hindu medical man is called, a person without any
+scientific knowledge&mdash;was summoned, and he prescribed for fever.  As
+the medicine failed to have any beneficial effect, he declared that the
+child was suffering from the effects of the glance of an evil eye.  He
+must have come under its influence in some way unknown to his mother.
+Where had she carried him or led him?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a searching back into memory for occasions when an evil eye
+might have rested upon him.  Some one recalled the events of the day
+following Ananda's arrival home, how he appeared on the verandah in
+front of the open door and how the child ran towards him.  It was also
+noted how the father of the boy had fixed his eye upon him with a great
+eagerness of possession.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The vaityan was more than satisfied that in the incident they had found
+a solution of the mystery.  The unconscious longing awakened in the
+father at the sight of his child had given birth to a natural curse of
+the disappointment of his desire.  If he could not have the child
+himself no one should have him.  The baneful influence of the thought
+in the man's mind was working for evil in the boy's body.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This pronouncement did not tend to allay the irritation felt throughout
+the family against the son who had brought the shadow of sorrow upon
+his father's house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The vaityan prescribed different medicine, and in addition recommended
+the performance of certain rites that were supposed to have the power
+of warding off spells.  He solemnly tied an amulet specially prepared
+on the child's arm.  The floor of the room where the boy slept was to
+be strewn with margosa leaves gathered fresh every day; and he was to
+drink the milk of a black goat that had not a single white hair.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The execution of these numerous orders served to occupy the time and
+attention of the women; at the same time they kept alive the irritation
+against Ananda for being the cause of the trouble.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the midst of it all the guru appeared accompanied by his disciple.
+He had come unexpectedly and without invitation to learn why the
+restitution rites were not performed.  Reasonable delay he was prepared
+to permit; but if there was a wilful deferring of the ceremonies it was
+his duty to exhort and persuade into speedy amendment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The grave countenance of the swami struck terror into the hearts of the
+little company that hastily assembled to do him honour.  Pantulu fell
+at his feet in a humble prostration; and Gunga followed his example.
+As neither offered any explanation Pantulu's brother took upon himself
+the office of spokesman.  He described all that had happened; Ananda's
+conversion to Christianity in England; the punishments that had been
+inflicted when it was found that he not only refused to recant, but
+also declined to take any part in the restitution ceremonies.  The guru
+was told how he was lodged and served; of the attempts that had been
+made to degrade him and starve him; and how he had not been permitted
+to see either wife or child.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The great man listened in silence; and when the story was ended the
+more timid ones of the little company trembled in apprehension of an
+outburst of anathema and general condemnation.  It did not come.  The
+expression on his face was severe but the words that fell from his lips
+sounded strangely mild and gentle.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We must look into this matter and see what can be done.  Let the child
+be brought; I am told that he is not well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Every one from Pantulu downwards was sensible of relief.  The anxiety
+that weighed so heavily was lifted and placed temporarily upon stronger
+shoulders.  Where they had failed in their methods the swami might
+succeed, and the heir of the house be restored to them.  What a
+rejoicing and feasting there would be! was the thought that ran through
+the minds of many of the women.  The only person who differed in this
+attitude was Pantulu's brother.  Slowly and insidiously he was stepping
+into the position rendered vacant by Ananda's apostacy to the faith of
+his fathers.  The little Royan would inherit his grandfather's wealth,
+and during the long minority his great uncle would be practically
+master of the house and guardian of the person of the minor; but in the
+event of the child's death Sooba would be the heir.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The drooping child with pathetic signs of pain in his pinched features
+was brought to the guru who examined him closely and confirmed the
+opinion of the vaityan.  The boy, he said, was placed under the
+displeasure of the gods and was suffering for his father's sins.  If he
+died&mdash;he shook his head solemnly, not thinking of the inheritance but
+of the future state.  The company did not require to be told the fate
+of a child dying under such circumstances.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then Pantulu in a trembling voice described his own bodily failings,
+loss of appetite and sleep, weakness of limbs and an ebbing away of
+vitality that could only mean the approach of death.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again the oracle assumed a severe expression.  What could be expected
+but the withering and drooping of the parent when the son was so
+inhumanly wicked as to break away from his ancestral faith?  He would
+consider what was best to be done, and consult with the brother of the
+sick man.  Then the family offered up thanks and adoration, each member
+prostrating him or herself before the guru as he withdrew to the room
+assigned for his use.  Sooba followed and the door was closed on the
+two men.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The interview lasted some time and advice was given that was virtually
+a command.  Sooba would not divulge what it was until the moment
+arrived for action.  Only to Gunga did he give a hint of what the great
+man intended to do; and she expressed her full approval.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And if this should fail?" she asked with a sinking heart for she knew
+the strength of her son's obstinacy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her brother-in-law lowered his voice and replied in a whisper.  Her
+head was bent and she made no reply; but her lips closed firmly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will not speak to my husband on this matter.  He is too weak, too
+feeble to deal with it," she said later.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It will be best to keep him in ignorance&mdash;until the orders of the
+swami have been carried out," answered Sooba.  "I have your consent to
+act?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no other way of bringing him to reason; and who am I to
+contradict and oppose one who speaks with the authority of the gods?"
+replied Gunga, sadly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On the following morning, after Ananda had risen from his hard,
+uncomfortable bed and breakfasted on some hot milk and biscuits, he was
+surprised at receiving a visit from his uncle.  The cup that had
+contained the milk had been replaced in the tiffin basket with the tin
+of biscuits, and no trace was discernible to the sharp eyes of the
+visitor of the simple morning meal.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In a more courteous tone than had been adopted by any member of the
+family hitherto, he asked Ananda to accompany him into the house.  At
+first there was a very natural hesitation to obey such an unexpected
+summons; but on second thoughts Ananda deemed it wiser to go than to
+refuse.  For all he could tell it might be the first sign of relenting.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He closed the book he was reading, placed it upon the table, and
+without a word followed his uncle through the compound to the front of
+the house.  Side by side they mounted the steps that led into the
+verandah.  The big door stood open, and they passed through it into the
+entrance-room.  Bidding him stay there his uncle left him for a few
+minutes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The door leading into the centre courtyard was wide open, and through
+it he caught sight of some of the women of the household, as they moved
+in and out of the kitchen and its offices in the execution of their
+domestic duties.  His eye sought eagerly for the familiar figure of his
+wife or child, but no trace of them or of his parents was visible.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As he gazed into the sunlit yard memories crowded back upon him
+thickly.  The place was full of associations connected with his
+childish games, the idle chatter of his boyhood, the visit of the guru
+and the purohit when they came to perform ceremonies that once were so
+full of awe and mystery; and that now by the light of the new teaching
+seemed so futile and childish.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the midst of his reverie his uncle reappeared, and leading him to a
+room signed to him to enter.  He heard the door close behind him and
+knew that his companion had not followed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda scarcely dared to believe his eyes.  In front of him stood
+Dorama, not a sad tearful repellent Dorama; but a loving, expectant
+wife, happy and confident.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was dressed as a bride in a rich silk saree.  Her neck, arms and
+hair gleamed with gold and precious stones.  Jasmine blossom peeped
+from the strands of her glossy hair.  Her complexion was heightened by
+the subtle use of saffron, and there was an alluring scent of sandal
+wood in the air.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He strode towards her impetuously; gathered her into his arms pressing
+passionate kisses upon her unresisting mouth.  The thirst of his heart
+was not easily assuaged.  He lost count of time; his eyes were blind to
+everything but the beautiful woman who nestled against his breast with
+inarticulate murmurs of contentment.  His pulses leaped as he realised
+that his kisses were returned.  She loved him!  She was his!  How the
+clouds parted and rolled aside at the assurance!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A hand was laid upon his shoulder with no light touch, and they were
+forced apart.  Ananda turned angrily upon the intruder who dared to
+interpose and found himself face to face with the guru.  Yielding in
+his surprise to the old instinctive habit of his youth he placed his
+hands together palm to palm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Pardon, swami; I did not know that you were present," he said.  "I
+thought I was alone with my wife."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+For all his humility and deference there was a note of pride in his
+tone that jarred on the ear of the man who arrogated to himself the
+attributes of a god.  The words seemed to imply that the third person
+present at such a meeting, whoever he might be, was an intruder; and
+that the sooner he departed the better pleased the husband would be.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As for Dorama her head sank upon her breast in what appeared to be an
+overwhelming fit of outraged modesty.  Inwardly she was glowing under
+that ardent embrace, tingling to her finger tips, every nerve thrilled
+by his possessive touch.  She had been well tutored beforehand as to
+her conduct, how she was to do all in her power to attract her errant
+husband and draw him back to her; how she was to appeal to him by words
+and tears and pray him to return.  The programme thus mapped out for
+her did not include the unexpected greeting, and she felt confused.
+Ananda had begun at the wrong end and cut the ground on which she was
+to base her pleading from beneath her feet.  She drew aside leaving the
+swami to speak.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have arranged for you to see your wife and speak with her.  She is
+also to hear what I have to say to you.  I understand that you have
+refused the rites that should restore your caste&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have become a Christian and I have received the Christian rite of
+baptism.  Under those circumstances the Hindu rites are unnecessary,"
+interrupted Ananda, careful to preserve the courtesy rendered
+instinctively by a man of good caste to an equal.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It matters not what you call yourself," replied his former spiritual
+teacher with a lowering glance; "nor does it signify in the least what
+strange ceremonies you may have seen fit to go through in England.
+They can all be cast aside like the blanket clothing you were obliged
+to adopt when the frost and snow came.  The delayed rites must be
+performed, and I am here to see that they are properly carried out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The guru restrained himself with difficulty.  Ananda's independent
+attitude and simple courage roused his anger.  The great man could not
+fail to observe that he had very little hold on the attention of his
+hearers.  Already Ananda was turning impatiently to the woman as though
+he had disposed of the intruder and swept him off his horizon by the
+announcement of his change of faith.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wife, where is the child, our child?  My eyes ache for a sight of him!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is not well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not well?  How is that?" he asked with parental concern that sounded
+sweet to her unaccustomed ears.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He pines for his father," she replied falteringly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell him how he has laid a curse not only on the child but also on his
+parents," broke in the swami unable to keep silence.  "The curse will
+extend to his wife as well, if she fails to draw him back from his evil
+ways."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She looked from one to the other, trembling under the stern eye of the
+swami.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Husband will you not return to us?  The big father pines for a sight
+of his son.  The old eyes are blind through tears.  The child&mdash;&mdash;!" she
+stopped unable to command her voice.  "Husband!" she continued.  "Your
+wife more than all pines also.  The day is long and weary without you.
+The night is unbearable in its misery.  Will you not come to us, our
+lord and master?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She held out her arms, and again he would have clasped her to himself;
+but in accordance with instructions given by no less a person than the
+swami himself she drew back; and the guru by a slight movement glided
+in between them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The reward is ready and waits with impatience," said the swami, his
+lips parting for a moment and showing the white teeth in a smile that
+was not born of kindness or pity.  "But you are not ready for the
+reward."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda ignored the speech and continued to address Dorama with
+increasing emotion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come?  Will I not come?  Beloved, I will come!  I am ready; I have
+been waiting till my heart was sick with longing.  Wife!" he cried
+passionately, "I claim you as my own unconditionally.  I command you to
+join me.  Come willingly if you can; but willing or unwilling I shall
+not cease trying to regain my rights."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have no rights!" cried the guru, a definite challenge in his voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That remains to be seen," replied Ananda shortly, as though he grudged
+the precious moments wasted in speech with any one but his wife.  He
+turned to her again.  "Beloved!  There is no reason why you should not
+come to me now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Hot words of desperate pleading fell from his lips.  He had no more
+regard for the presence of the swami than for a yellow lizard on the
+wall.  Dorama listened with charmed ears, her lips apart in a smile
+that set her husband's pulses throbbing.  She too under the magical
+influence of long deferred love was unconscious of the presence that
+overshadowed them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had promised faithfully to plead the cause of Hinduism, but
+religion was forgotten.  Love and love alone was paramount.  Nothing
+else mattered.  Her eyes shone with a light that spoke volumes to both
+men, bringing joy and hope to Ananda but misgiving to the guru.  He had
+not calculated on the turn events had taken.  The warm impulsive
+greeting between husband and wife had been out of his reckoning.  The
+magical effect of touch had been undreamed of.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Another factor that had not been considered was Ananda's matured
+manhood.  The timid boy whom the guru had instructed in the old days
+with fatherly authority was gone, and in his place stood an individual
+of strong character developed in the hard school of persecution.  It
+was not easy for the guru to obtain a hearing.  He seized upon a pause
+when the husband having made his appeal waited for his wife's reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Woman!" he cried, in a rough overbearing voice.  "Tell your husband
+under what conditions you will consent to join him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama gave the swami a frightened glance, and began in a faltering
+voice as though she were repeating a half-learned lesson.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If my lord will consent to the rites being performed&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Beloved wife! light of my eyes! joy of my heart! the ceremonies that
+made me your husband were long ago performed.  They need not be
+repeated!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She means&mdash;&mdash;" began the guru in a still louder voice than he had
+addressed Dorama.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda took a step forward and in tones that echoed round the room,
+said&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Silence, swami, silence!  Let the husband plead with his wife.  All
+the world over the rule holds good that the wife shall listen to her
+husband; aye, and obey him!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Outcaste, and cursed of the gods!  She is no wife of yours!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Christian or Hindu, we are one, she and I whatever you may say!"
+Again he turned to Dorama.  "My lotus bud, my pearl!  Do not listen to
+his words.  Believe me you are mine for ever.  Do you remember our
+marriage, not the mere ceremonies that made you mine; but the after
+rites when they gave you into my arms?  We were so young then!  We were
+like children half grown and only half awake.  Now, now, loved one! my
+own little wife! we are awake, yes, awake and waiting and longing!
+Come, beloved!  We have waited too long!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The words poured from his lips in an irresistible torrent, and the guru
+was powerless to stop them.  At their conclusion Ananda moved towards
+his wife who stood with hands clasped, her face turned to his.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Back, back!" cried the guru in threatening accents.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come, come, beloved!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With a swift decisive movement Ananda thrust aside the intervening body
+of the guru; and Dorama half sobbing, half laughing, and wholly sweet
+and yielding, was once again in his strong embrace; once, again in
+spite of the terrible presence of the swami, she felt his lips upon
+hers and dared&mdash;yes, dared to give back kiss for kiss.  Then she felt
+herself put away with the same purposeful force.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go, little one, go before the swami curse you," he said in her ear.
+Dropping his voice to a whisper he continued rapidly.  "You know where
+to find me.  If your heart is brave enough to seek your husband, come
+by day or in the dead of night, beloved, and you will find your place
+in these arms.  Now go, light of my eyes, my priceless jewel!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As he spoke he gently pushed her to the door and, opening it, thrust
+her out, closing it after her.  He returned to the middle of the room
+and looked the guru squarely in the face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, swami," he said temperately; "speak out!  Say what you have to
+say as man to man.  I am ready to listen.  Curse me if you like by all
+your gods.  Your curses cannot hurt."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The unflinching gaze that accompanied this speech told the guru more
+plainly than words that as far as Ananda was concerned his authority
+was called in question, his influence was gone and his godhead denied.
+"As man to man," Ananda had said.  There was no recognition of
+twice-born infallibility in that sentence.  The guru ground his teeth
+in his rage.  He knew what it meant; it was the attitude of the cursed
+Christian towards the Brahman.  The Brahman and Christian met as man to
+man on a common human platform; and the man without caste, the follower
+of a strange faith that denied the Hindu deities claimed to be equal
+with the divinely born exponent of the Vedas, the being of exalted
+caste who was immune from sin.  He, the guru, the swami, in whose body
+resided the mantric essence, the soul of the deity, he who was sinless,
+was thrust from his pedestal by one whom he had instructed in his youth!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Words failed him and he was speechless; he had lost command of his
+tongue and he could neither curse nor upbraid.  Not only had Ananda
+spoken to him as an equal, but when he would have interposed between
+husband and wife, the apostate had laid a vigorous hand on him full of
+strength and determination and had put him aside.  Never before had he
+been addressed in that manner, and never had such a thing been heard of
+as to touch the sacred person of a swami with a sacrilegious hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The warm shades of his skin yellowed and he gasped as he made for the
+door.  With a strange courtesy learned in England Ananda passed before
+him, lifted the latch and held the door open.  The guru strode from the
+room transported with a rage that knew no bounds; and Ananda even as he
+rejoiced in his triumph wondered vaguely in what form the man's
+vengeance would fall.  God grant that it might be directed against
+himself, and not against the beautiful woman who had so lately nestled
+in his arms.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap17"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XVII
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda's interview with his wife and the guru produced a curious
+result.  It not only roused him out of meek resignation, but it
+stimulated his nerves, strengthened his will, and focussed his mental
+vision on the situation created by his conversion to Christianity.  It
+was as though a certain visible growth had begun; the fruit of that
+growth promised to be action.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Hitherto his policy had been one of waiting and of patience amounting
+to little less than apathy.  He had been drifting and existing rather
+than acting and living.  It is true that the passive period was not
+without its advantage.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The plant that shows no shoot above ground is not necessarily dormant
+and idle.  There may be great activity underneath the soil.  It was so
+with Ananda.  Strong roots capable of standing the stress of mental
+disturbance developed.  From them were to spring actions that would be
+marked by endurance and fortitude, where formerly there had been
+weakness and timidity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As he held the soft yielding figure of his wife in his arms he was
+conscious of a concentration of purpose he had never experienced
+before.  The waiting policy insensibly died.  Definite determination
+took the place of vague desire.  He resolved to strike out a line for
+himself.  The object of it should be to gain possession of his wife and
+child and to find a means of providing a home for them both.  With this
+determination came the conviction that his wishes could not be
+fulfilled by remaining any longer under his father's roof.  He must
+leave home as soon as possible.  The opportunity for so doing had been
+offered, but he had refused it.  He must reconsider it.  There was no
+necessity to write, it would be better not to do so lest by any chance
+the letter was tampered with.  He was aware that he would be watched
+and spied upon more than ever after what had passed between himself and
+the guru; he must be cautious if he wished to escape.  Alderbury, he
+was sure, would give him a warm welcome, and again proffer the helping
+hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He counted the change left out of Bopaul's ten rupee note.  There was
+more than enough left to pay for his journey to the headquarters of the
+mission, whether he went by road or by rail.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The next question to be considered was the best means of getting away
+from the house with his luggage without raising opposition or provoking
+assault.  The only servant at his disposal was the pariah, and his good
+offices were restricted by the fact that he had again been forbidden to
+wait on the young master any longer.  His visits had to be paid
+secretly and at night.  The man need not have come at all; but with
+that fidelity so often found among the lower people of India who serve
+their superiors, he remained faithful to the son of the house whom he
+had known and worshipped from a distance as a child and boy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When the lights were extinguished and voices ceased murmuring in the
+women's rooms, the untouchable, as the caste people termed the pariah,
+crept softly into the little yard and entered the room where Ananda
+slept.  By the dim light of the tumbler lamp he performed the duties he
+had been forbidden to do.  With quick, silent fingers he tidied the
+room, cleaned the shoes and filled the earthen chafing-dish with fresh
+charcoal.  So quiet was he in all his movements that his master's deep
+sleep was undisturbed till the moment when a gentle rattle of the
+milkcan against the compound wall outside told of the arrival of the
+milkman with his cow.  Even then the faithful servitor, remembering his
+uncleanness, forbore to lay a hand upon the recumbent figure.  Kneeling
+by his side he uttered the loud chirrup of the wall-lizard until the
+sound pierced the brain of the sleeper.  Then Ananda rose, and, taking
+up the milk-bottle that belonged to his tiffin-basket, went to fetch
+the milk.  The pariah watched, and when his master returned he blew up
+the charcoal on which the coffee was to be made.  No conversation
+passed between the two.  The one received and the other gave his
+services without thanks or apology.  Yet Ananda was not ungrateful.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Although nothing of any consequence was said, this curious intimacy had
+a beneficial effect upon the 'vert.  Unconsciously he was learning that
+wonderful lesson of Christianity&mdash;the brotherhood of man.  His
+repugnance to the pariah was decreasing, and he no longer shrank with
+disgust as his eye fell upon his figure.  The books given by Alderbury
+contained much that bore on the subject, and Ananda had had plenty of
+leisure to absorb their contents, with the result that in his desperate
+need he was able to turn without repulsion to the only human being who
+could render help.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the small hours of the morning after Ananda's interview with Dorama,
+the usual routine had been observed, while scarcely a word passed
+between the two.  The man was turning away to leave, having blown up
+the chafing-dish of live coal, when Ananda called softly to him.  He
+stopped at once, and salaamed, wondering what his master could have to
+say if it was not complaint at some unconscious shortcoming in his
+service.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must leave my father's house, and I require your help."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again the pariah touched his forehead with both hands; then, placing
+them together, palm to palm, he listened deferentially to Ananda's
+explanation and instructions.  He was to bring a cart to take the
+luggage to the station in time to catch the night mail of that day.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The pariah prostrated himself and lifted his folded hands in entreaty.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sir! this unworthy slave prays your honour to be careful.  There are
+men in the town who openly declare that if they meet your excellency
+they will beat you and drive away the Christian devil which they say
+has entered the noble body of the presence.  During the day they wait
+outside hoping to catch your honour walking.  There is danger also in
+the house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Danger!" repeated Ananda quickly.  "How is that?  Stand up and tell me
+about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The man rose apologetically to his feet and continued his story.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My wife sweeps out the back yard where the refuse is thrown.  She
+heard one of the kitchen women telling the girl from the market that
+the swami departed in anger, and that his wrath must be appeased,
+otherwise worse misfortune will befall the family.  He left orders with
+the small master, the brother of our most noble big master, that your
+excellency was not to be allowed to leave the grounds."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can he stop me?" asked Ananda, with some heat.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By the aid of the men who watch outside."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are they there all night?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, sir; they do not think that you will try to leave secretly and at
+night.  Where could your honour go to hide, they say?  Every
+hiding-place is known to them, and no one in the town would dare to
+give shelter against the wishes of Pantulu Iyer's family.  Great care
+will be needed in leaving your honourable father's house without
+permission."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda was silent.  The fact that he was living in a state of siege
+that might very soon become close imprisonment was being forced upon
+him.  It was an unpleasant truth, but one to which he could not remain
+blind.  His conviction that he must get away as speedily as possible
+grew; and the sweeper was right in urging upon him the necessity of
+caution if he wished to ensure success in carrying out his intentions.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The coffee seethed on the live coals.  As he removed the pot he
+motioned to the pariah instinctively to stand away.  The action was an
+involuntary response to the inherited prejudice.  He was obeyed
+instantly and without resentment.  The man retired to the doorway, and
+would have passed out into the darkness had it not been for another
+command.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come back, I have not finished what I have to say.  Tell me, what do
+you think ought to be done?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The other glanced at him in surprise, although he did not venture to
+express it.  Had ever one of the twice-born been heard to ask the
+advice of a sweeper?  If he should dare to say in the hearing of men of
+caste that he had been thus consulted, he would be beaten for his
+presumption until his back streamed with blood.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With ever-recurring apology for daring to advise so great an
+excellency, he unfolded a plan of escape which seemed to Ananda, the
+more he considered it, the only possible means of getting away.  The
+excellency was to pack his property into parcels and bundles which the
+sweeper would convey away in the night with the assistance of his wife
+and son to some safe hiding-place in the jungle.  The portmanteaux must
+be left behind, empty, or suspicion would be roused if by chance one of
+the family paid a visit to the master.  On the second night after the
+household had retired Ananda was to steal quietly away and walk to a
+station some distance from the town, where he would not be recognised.
+The sweeper and his relatives would act as carriers for his luggage.
+His sister who served the College excellency would obtain a day's
+holiday from the housekeeper and help.  All might be relied upon for
+keeping the secret, and his honour need have no fear.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda made only one suggestion, that he should start with them and
+take the train twenty-four hours earlier.  To this the man objected on
+the score of requiring more time to make the arrangements for the night
+march.  When Ananda spoke of a reward the pariah protested vehemently
+that none was required.  Some day in the future, when his honour had
+grown rich, perhaps he would allow his son and daughter to serve him&mdash;a
+promise easy to give and easy to perform when the time should come.
+The crowing of cocks fell on their ears, and the men started.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must be going, sir.  The women will soon awake and be moving to the
+cattle shed.  Your excellency must forgive this worthless servant for
+touching your honour's sacred property; but there is no other way," he
+said deprecatingly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is forgiven," replied Ananda, remembering how roughly he had bidden
+that same man on his arrival to leave his trunks alone.  Rather than
+have them contaminated by his touch he had himself hauled them into his
+room.  "Did you not carry the Englishman's food basket for him?  Then
+surely you may carry my clothing without offence."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+All day Ananda was busy in the privacy of his little den, putting his
+personal belongings together in handy portable parcels, tying some in
+bundles when his limited supply of brown paper and string came to an
+end.  Quiet reigned over the house; and if he chanced to look out of
+the door no one crossed his line of vision in the compound.  By the
+afternoon he had finished.  He put on his cap to take a little walk.
+Beyond the wall that bounded the grounds he caught sight of two or
+three figures.  They would have attracted no attention had it not been
+for the warning of the pariah.  The man was correct.  Undoubtedly he
+was being watched as far as the outside of the house was concerned, and
+with no friendly intention either; but as long as he remained indoors
+he was left severely alone.  This was satisfactory, as the sight of his
+preparations would rouse suspicion and endanger the success of his
+scheme.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His eyes frequently sought that part of the house in which he knew were
+the women's quarters.  The small jealously-shuttered windows gave no
+hint of what was passing behind the Venetians.  Was Dorama there?  Did
+she seek for a glimpse of her husband as eagerly as he craved for a
+sight of his wife?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He paced up and down, book in hand, his thoughts busy elsewhere.  The
+luggage was ready in its new form, and it was to be carried off that
+very night.  In the small hours of the following night he would quietly
+slip away, and thus cut himself adrift for ever from the home of his
+birth.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again he searched the landscape.  A strong desire to see and speak once
+more with his wife lay at the back of his mind.  He wanted to tell her
+of his plans; to ask her to wait and to beg of her to join him as soon
+as he had a shelter to offer her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He cudgelled his brains for some device by which a message might be
+conveyed in safety, and could only think of the sweeper.  The pariah
+servant had no opportunity, however, of approaching the lady Dorama
+within speaking distance.  Even if chance favoured the messenger he
+would be unable to carry out his mission.  At the mere sight of him she
+would shrink away with all the prejudice of her caste, and resent the
+smallest breach of the caste law.  The pariah, by the unwritten law,
+could not do otherwise than maintain the prescribed distance between
+her and himself.  If he dropped a letter in her path or placed it where
+she might find it, his contaminating touch would be sufficient for her
+avoidance of the missive.  Moreover, a written letter was of no use.
+She could neither read nor write.  His only hope was in a chance
+interview, and as the hours slipped by the hope grew fainter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The following day passed heavily.  The luggage was safely removed
+without accident.  His books and writing materials were gone with the
+rest of his property, and he would not see them again till he arrived
+at the distant station.  He had biscuits with him and some
+pomegranates.  The sharp sweetness of the juice served to assuage his
+thirst.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He went out into the compound as often as he dared.  It did not do to
+spend too much time in the open, since it had not been his habit.  It
+might be remarked upon.  He noted the figures beyond the wall, and knew
+that he was being watched with the same vigilance as was shown
+yesterday and the day before.  Frequently his eye turned towards the
+blue-green mountain mass with its dark-grey rocks and heavy forest.
+Then he looked back at the familiar building, the home of his
+ancestors, and once the hot unshed tears made his eyes smart at the
+thought of leaving it.  The blood rushed to his head and back again to
+his heart with a violence that almost threw him off his mental balance.
+Could he muster up strength enough to abandon all that the home meant?
+Would he have the courage when the moment came to sever the ties that
+bound him to father, mother, wife&mdash;no, not wife!  She and the child
+would follow by and by.  He refused to entertain any doubt on the
+subject.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+All the same, he was conscious of a shudder, the kind of inward quake
+experienced by the soldier at the sound of the first bullet whizzing
+over his head on the battlefield.  He checked it at once and took a
+fresh grip of himself, sternly and resolutely shutting down sentiment
+and its companion emotion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't go back!  I can't go back!  There is nothing but hideous
+darkness behind me.  I must go forward.  The light is in front!  Ah!
+dear Christ, the Son of God! lead me forward in safety!  Lead me on!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The mental disturbance passed as suddenly as it had overwhelmed him.
+Once more he was conscious of a great peace.  It was as though he had
+entered that wonderful temple of God standing in the heart of London,
+where the strains of the organ rise above the roar of the streets, and
+where a man may feel that he is in the presence of the living God of
+Love, the Father of the Universe.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The sun dropped behind a shoulder of the mountain, and the sky broke
+into a glory of many colours.  He watched it until it faded.  Suddenly
+he was startled by a sound.  As the last ray left the top of the hill
+and the forest mantled into a sombre green, a wail arose in the women's
+rooms.  It was followed by the beat of a tomtom.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He stood at the entrance of the yard and listened.  As the light faded
+the wailing increased.  He could distinguish by the sound of the voices
+a movement.  They were leaving the house for the garden.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Yes!  He knew the ritual of old!  Some one was dying, and death was
+close at hand.  The man or woman&mdash;he started as the thought struck him
+that it might be his father&mdash;had been carried out of the house and laid
+upon mother earth to breathe his last.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+How well he remembered the ceremonies with which death was greeted; the
+lifting with tender care of the dying from the cot or mat and the
+gentle placing of the gasping patient upon the smooth ground.  Close by
+grew the sacred tulsi, without which no spirit could take its flight in
+peace.  He could picture his mother bending over the plant to gather a
+sprig.  He fancied he could smell the aromatic scent of the broken
+stalk of sweet basil as she placed the sprig above the head of the
+sufferer&mdash;perhaps touching the dry lips with it, leading as she did so
+the wail of mourning.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The chorus of women's voices swelled on the evening air; the whole
+household must be joining in.  Who could it be?  The pariah had said
+nothing of any illness in the family.  If it had been his father the
+man would have mentioned it.  He concluded that it must be one of the
+many relatives who lived in the house.  Some of them had joined the
+family during his absence in England; others had grown out of
+knowledge; it was useless for him to conjecture.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The presence of death is always a solemn moment, even though the person
+may not be known.  Ananda remained standing by the entrance of the
+yard, his eyes turned towards the west, but his ears bent to catch
+every sound that came from the house.  Each change in the note of grief
+spoke eloquently of the ebbing life, and he listened for the final
+cries that would betoken the drawing of the last breath.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The colour died out of the sky except upon the horizon, which glowed
+with a vivid luminous green.  The steady yellow light of the evening
+star shone in the wake of the sun's path.  Bats fluttered in the air,
+following the strong-winged moth that sought the almond-scented
+blossoms of the oleander.  In the distance the faint hum of the town
+rose occasionally and died away again.  A cart went slowly by, its
+axles groaning as the bullocks plodded along, urged by the guttural
+shouts of the sleepy driver.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The wailing in the house stopped and silence reigned.  The stars grew
+brighter and the living green of the west was lost in darkening greys.
+An owl in the distant forest sent forth a discordant shriek.  As if in
+reply the familiar note of grief was renewed in slightly different
+tones mingled with a violent tomtoming.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Death had come; and the patient, whoever he or she might be, had drawn
+the last breath.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Memory was busy with the past once more.  Sad though the sound of
+mourning might be, it belonged to his life.  Death without those
+accompanying sounds would not seem to be death, any more than marriage
+would seem to be marriage without the dancing girls and their
+love-songs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He had renounced all such things and set them aside for ever.  Again,
+with a determined effort, he thrust sentiment aside and shut his ears
+to the mourning.  All night long the mourners would be up and busy over
+the preparations for the disposal of the body the next day.  There was
+no reason why he should not sleep however.  He had a long walk before
+him.  The sweeper was to meet him at the station in the morning at
+eight o'clock, and he was to take the train that was due soon after
+that hour.  He intended starting between three and four.  The road was
+familiar.  India is not troubled with too many by-paths.  Even if the
+route had been unknown to him, he could not easily have missed it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He retired to his room and threw himself upon his charpoy bed.  He
+could still hear the monotonous wailing, but it was not disturbing.
+Having reassured himself that it could not possibly be his father, he
+troubled no more about the unknown dead.  On the whole it was fortunate
+that the household was occupied with its own affairs.  There was less
+likelihood of attention being directed towards himself.  His escape
+ought to be easy, and, thus thinking, he fell asleep.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap18"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XVIII
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda lay in a deep, dreamless sleep, the restful slumber of a healthy
+man whose mind was as wholesome as his body.  One hand was tucked under
+his cheek, the other was thrown forward and hung slightly over the edge
+of the cot.  All his troubles, his doubts and fears, his deprivations
+and hardships, lately inflicted, were forgotten.  It was the best
+preparation he could have for entrance on the new life, when he would
+have to live "by the sweat of his brow," like a multitude of good men
+who had gone before him, and others who would come after him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He had had four hours of solid sleep without stirring, when he became
+aware of a touch upon the hand that rested on the border of the bed.
+It was a soft, coaxing touch that sent an electric message to his
+brain.  In the old days before he went to England that same touch had
+often roused him at dawn.  He lifted his head and breathed one word:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wife!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am here!" came the ready response.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was in his arms the next moment, clinging to him whilst convulsive
+sobs&mdash;stifled, but none the less strong&mdash;shook her from head to foot.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At first words failed them both, he in his astonishment and she in the
+violence of her grief; but as tears relieved the overburdened brain of
+the woman she regained sufficient command of herself to speak.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Our little son!&mdash;my baby!  He is dead!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then, as an exclamation escaped Ananda's lips, she placed her hand over
+his mouth.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah! hush!" she whispered.  "They do not know that I have come to you.
+If they find me here they will beat me again!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Beat you!  My pearl!  Who has dared to lay a finger upon my wife?" he
+whispered fiercely, drawing her still closer.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Our uncle's wife.  Of late she has taken much upon herself.  She has
+tried continually to push me from my place, saying that her husband
+would be the big master of the house when your father died.  Then she
+will be mistress, and as such it was only fitting that she should come
+next to your mother instead of me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But why should she strike you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah! husband!&mdash;the child!  They say that it was through my neglect and
+carelessness that the boy came under the influence of the evil eye; it
+was but right therefore that I should be punished."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The bereaved mother poured the story of little Royan's illness and
+death into her husband's ears.  Together the parents wept, stifling
+their grief lest the sound of a sob or a sigh should betray them.
+Little, indeed, had Ananda suspected that as he listened indifferently
+to the wailing his beloved child was passing away from them for ever.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What will life be without my child or my husband?" cried Dorama at
+last.  "I cannot bear it; I shall die!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, you will not.  Beloved, I am leaving my home to-night to find more
+liberty than I am given here in this cruel town.  Come with me.  Let us
+go together.  Once across the border of the State our rights will be
+respected.  We are of age, free to act as we choose, and no one can
+separate you from me or do either of us any hurt."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Husband!  I am your obedient wife!"
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center">
+<SPAN STYLE="letter-spacing: 4em">*****</SPAN><BR>
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda looked at his watch.  It was half-past two.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is time we started, beloved.  Can you walk as far?" he asked
+anxiously as he made his final preparations.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can walk the distance easily if my lord will give me time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then let us begin the journey at once.  We will go to the further
+corner of the compound and get over the wall.  Before the sun is up we
+shall be far enough from the town not to fear recognition."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Together they crept across the enclosure, Ananda beating the grass
+softly with his stick at each step, to drive away the chance snake.
+Dorama followed closely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The wall presented no difficulty; but as Ananda dropped lightly into
+the road he startled a half-starved pariah dog returning to the town
+after its nightly prowl for food.  The dog, more in fear than anger,
+barked wildly at him.  Dorama, alarmed, hesitated to follow.  He threw
+a stone at the animal with the intention of frightening it.  As bad
+luck would have it the stone struck the dog, and though it was not much
+hurt, it shrieked after the manner of the village cur, as if it had
+been nearly killed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wait!" said Ananda to his wife, who had not yet joined him in the
+road.  "Sit down under the wall.  The long grass will hide you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He watched the house for a few minutes to see if a light moved or if
+there was any indication of an alarm being raised and a search.  If
+Dorama's absence were discovered an immediate hunt would be made, and
+the noise of the dog would give a hint of the direction she had taken.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+No sign of any movement was apparent, and Dorama, recovering her nerve,
+climbed the wall and joined him.  They set off at a steady pace.  There
+was no moon; but the stars gave sufficient light to help the travellers
+along the broad, well-kept road.  Dorama's little feet were bare.  They
+fell noiselessly except for the chink of her silver toe-rings.  Ananda
+wore English boots, strong and serviceable; but the warm, sub-tropical
+climate had affected the leather and made them creak.  Possibly it was
+the noise of his tread that drowned the sound of approaching footsteps.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama was the first to hear it.  She stopped and laid her hand on her
+husband's arm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is that?" she asked sharply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Before he could reply four men running barefooted came up with them
+from behind.  Three of them hurled themselves upon Ananda.  The fourth
+seized Dorama roughly by the arm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What madness is this?" cried the voice of their uncle.  "Who gave you
+permission to take away the daughter of the house?" he demanded of
+Ananda.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The only reply of the latter was to struggle violently.  He was soon
+overpowered, and between his three captors he was marched back towards
+his father's house.  Ten minutes later he found himself once more in
+the little outhouse with his empty trunks.  The door was closed upon
+him and its primitive hasp secured with a padlock.  He was without food
+and without his personal property; but his concern was not for himself,
+it was for the weeping and trembling woman who was wrested from him to
+be driven back in unmerited disgrace and perhaps imprisoned like
+himself.  There was nothing to be done but to submit, at least, for the
+present.  He was calm and self-controlled once more now that he was
+alone.  He would wait patiently for developments, relying on the love
+that he knew his parents bore him.  It was impossible to believe that
+they had any intention of doing him personal violence, though they
+might subject him to further humiliation and discomfort.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was the dog that did the mischief and put Sooba on the track of the
+fugitives.  Dorama's absence was discovered as soon as she was required
+for a ceremony in the death chamber as mother of the dead boy.  A
+search was made through the house, and some one suggested that possibly
+she had gone to the well to put an end to her sorrow for lost husband
+and child.  Another mentioned Ananda.  Could she have sought him in her
+trouble?  After their interview in the presence of the guru it was not
+unlikely.  When his room was found to be empty the belief was confirmed
+that the two were together somewhere, perhaps on the premises, perhaps
+in the forest.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The shriek of the dog betrayed the fact that it had encountered a human
+being and received some hurt.  Its cry was a howl of pain and not of
+anger, as would have been the case had it met one of its own kind.  The
+sharp ears of the man who of all that numerous family did not mourn the
+dead nor the disgraced, caught the sound, and he jumped to a correct
+conclusion.  Further thought pointed to the obvious fact that the
+missing couple would not be likely to take the road leading to the
+town.  In a short time he gathered a band of willing helpers, and, as
+we have seen, the capture was made.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Having disposed of the couple, Sooba called a family council.  Pantulu
+declined to be present, but Gunga attended it.  A decision was arrived
+at that she and her husband should leave the house that afternoon
+immediately after the funeral.  They were to travel by bullock coach to
+one of his silk farms some ten miles distant from Chirapore.  A small
+bungalow occupied by a relative who superintended the silk-worm culture
+would house them for a few days or until&mdash;Gunga looked at her
+brother-in-law sadly&mdash;until her husband had recovered his health.
+Other matters were discussed with general unanimity as to the course
+that should be taken as soon as Pantulu was removed.  When it was over
+Gunga sought Dorama.  The stern, unyielding woman stood in the centre
+of the room, her daughter-in-law prostrate at her feet.  The younger
+woman trembled as she listened, and when the tale was ended she was
+shaken with sobs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother! mother!" she wailed.  "Is it necessary?  Must it be?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The tears stood in Gunga's eyes as she pronounced again the sentence
+passed by the guru on her son and confirmed by the common consent of
+the family.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Spare him, mother! spare him!" pleaded Dorama.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He did not spare us his parents, nor his son, whose death he has
+caused.  In a short time we shall carry his father to the arms of
+mother earth, as yesterday we carried the child.  Why should we spare
+him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama bowed her head in silence.  She dared not question the
+accusation.  Being a Hindu she was inclined to the belief that
+unconsciously his regard falling on the child as it did might have had
+an evil influence.  Nor could she be blind to the probability that
+Pantulu would die of grief before many weeks were over.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There must be punishment for you too, daughter," continued Gunga.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama's hands were raised over her bowed head as if to protect herself
+from a shower of blows.  The fear of immediate violence was without
+foundation.  Gunga took no pleasure in inflicting pain.  The task would
+be left to the man whose power in the house was growing more dominant
+each day that passed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The last rites for the disposal of little Royan's body were performed,
+and the party had returned to the house to watch the departure of the
+master and mistress.  The coach was ready, and the bullock bells
+jangled as the large white beasts shook the flies from their heads and
+stamped a cloven hoof, breathing out heavily through their glistening
+nostrils.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu, bowed like a man of seventy, left the house by himself and
+climbed into the bullock coach without waiting for his wife.  She
+stayed behind to give the final directions to her women.  As she
+crossed the threshold to the big iron-studded door, Dorama ran forward
+and caught her arm.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mother! mother! is it not possible to pass over the offence?  Oh!
+mother!  I cannot bear it!  I cannot bear it!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gunga released herself with no light touch from the clinging hand and
+spoke with a roughness that hid her own emotion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go back to your room.  You forget yourself, daughter!  Look at the big
+master!  Is not the sight of his deep sorrow and affliction enough to
+win the consent of every member of his house?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama's face sought shelter behind her trembling hands, and she began
+to cry piteously like a child.  Her mother-in-law strode on towards the
+bullock coach, her grey head covered with the saree drawn like a hood
+over her forehead till her features were almost hidden.  She did not
+keep strict purdahnasheen, but she was careful not to expose herself to
+the public gaze more than was necessary.  Sooba himself closed the door
+of the coach.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Farewell, sister," he said in a smooth voice.  "The change will do my
+brother good if anything will; but his spirit is too much broken by his
+many sorrows to give us any hope of his recovery.  It is a matter of
+time only."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We shall see," replied Gunga sharply, and not best pleased at the
+assurance with which her husband's death was mentioned.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By the time you return," continued Sooba, unruffled, "we shall have
+better news to tell you of the breaking of an obstinate will."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gunga turned from him without response.  The motherly instinct in her
+struggled to make its voice heard.  She stifled it ruthlessly.  Yet she
+looked back as the bullocks moved forward with an uneven jerk and said&mdash;
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do nothing but what the swami commanded," she said.  "It will be
+sufficient."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The noise of the wheels prevented further conversation.  Sooba,
+watching the cart as it swayed in its exit through the gateway of the
+compound wall smiled unpleasantly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was just as well that I did not tell her all, or she might have
+refused to leave the house.  Mothers are in the way when troublesome
+sons and daughters require chastisement."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He passed through the centre courtyard towards the back of the
+building.  Dorama, dejected and miserable, her eyelids swollen with
+weeping, stood listlessly near the kitchen door.  His eyes dwelt on her
+jewellery, the gold bangles on her arms, her nose and ear ornaments,
+and a pearl necklace that covered the cord on which was suspended the
+marriage token.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Inside the kitchen the sharp voice of his wife was raised as she issued
+orders to the gang of women employed in cooking the evening meal.  She
+came to the door and caught sight of her husband.  There was an
+exchange of glances between the new self-constituted master and
+mistress.  It was sufficient without speech.  She called to Dorama.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come, little sister; enough of grieving!  Go into the kitchen and see
+to the making of the green chutneys.  The girl who is pounding them is
+too stupid to flavour it to your uncle's liking.  Now that the big
+mistress is away I must take her place.  It is a favour to allow you to
+take mine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama glanced at her through misty eyes.  She did not answer, but
+entered the kitchen and seated herself by the side of the girl who was
+compounding the delicacies known as green chutneys.  The work she had
+been asked to do was light, and she was glad to be employed.  Hitherto
+it had not been thought necessary that she should help with the
+preparation of meals.  The care of the child was considered sufficient
+occupation; but now she was without any charge it was only right that
+she should take her share in the household duties.  She had no
+objection to the labour involved; but she could not help feeling the
+humiliation of the position assigned her.  As wife of the son and heir
+she ranked next to the mistress.  It was she who should be at the head
+of the household giving orders.  It was she who should light the lamp
+at evening and call together the family at daybreak for the morning
+hymn and pujah.  Before Ananda returned, and while the child lived, she
+had looked forward confidently to the time when she should succeed to
+these recognised duties of the mistress of the zenana.  Now the bitter
+truth was thrust upon her; with her husband outcasted and her son dead
+they could never be hers.  Silently she took up the work assigned to
+her, tears dropping occasionally from her sad eyes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The women in the kitchen glanced at her with a sympathy they dared not
+express.  There was not one among them who would not have preferred to
+see Dorama in her aunt's place.  In view of what the near future
+probably held they deemed it wiser to keep their thoughts to themselves
+and to obey orders without a murmur.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At the evening meal Dorama was made to feel again her subordinate
+position both in serving the men and in being served herself.  But it
+came to an end at last.  When it was finished the green leaf platters
+were thrown out on the refuse heap; the brass pots and dishes were
+rinsed and turned upside down to drain, and the kitchen fires were
+allowed to sink into grey ash.  Many of the women, tired out with a
+night of preparation for the funeral, lay down on their mats, and
+drawing a sheet over their heads, were soon fast asleep.  Two or three
+continued to move about the house, not having completed their duties.
+One by one they too retired, and only Dorama remained awake.  As soon
+as she was assured that her companions were safely asleep she rose and
+opened the door.  Placing it ajar, she seated herself close to it, so
+that she had a view of the central court through the narrow opening.
+Her heart beat like a sledge-hammer.  It seemed to her that it must be
+heard throughout the house.  An hour passed, and still she continued to
+watch and wait with wakeful eye and alert ear.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Between ten and eleven she caught sight of the dark forms of men
+passing silently through the courtyard towards the back verandah.  They
+entered the garden, and turning through the gate in the garden wall,
+went towards the room occupied by Ananda.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Before daring to follow she waited for sign of further movement in the
+men's quarters.  There might be others who out of curiosity, if nothing
+else, would join their superiors uninvited.  All was silent, and she
+concluded that they who intended to visit her husband that night had
+gone to his room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gathering her saree closely round her she crept out into the courtyard,
+taking care to close the door of the sleeping-room after her.
+Listening and moving with the utmost caution, she went through the
+garden door and out into the compound.  The stars were bright, and by
+their light she could distinguish the footpath leading direct to the
+little yard where the green gourd flourished.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She hesitated to venture along the track by which the men might return
+at any minute.  Her courage failing her she followed the wall till she
+reached the first corner.  Here she stopped and listened.  Feeling her
+way, she went on till she arrived at a spot outside the yard which she
+calculated was close to the open door of Ananda's room.  The fear of
+snakes was conquered in her intense anxiety to learn what was
+happening, and she crouched low down in the long grass till she was
+hidden from sight.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The position she had chosen was the best for the purpose of overhearing
+all that passed in Ananda's room.  Only twenty-four hours before, she
+had entered it with confidence, and sought for consolation in her
+distress at the loss of her child.  His love and his pity were poured
+out upon her.  His kisses were still warm upon her lips.  She seemed to
+hear the words of joy and love that he breathed in her ear as he held
+her to him.  She thrilled again when she recalled all that he had
+promised of the future that should be theirs, if she would take her
+courage in her hands and come away with him&mdash;future love, future
+happiness, future maternity, all might be secured if only she would be
+brave.  In British territory his rights would be recognised&mdash;how
+hopefully he spoke!&mdash;he could earn enough to keep them both.  She would
+be a happy wife, her own mistress, with no aunt to bully and tyrannise;
+and if the good God willed it, she would also be a happy mother again.
+As he pleaded she forgot his broken caste, his disgrace, his
+excommunication.  A new and great love blossomed out of the old,
+bestowing upon her both courage and faith.  She would go with him&mdash;oh,
+so gladly! she whispered.  What had she to live for now but her lord,
+her husband!  The grip of his arms told her how he appreciated her
+devotion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then came the sudden ending to their dreams.  That golden future which
+was to begin then and there was shattered; and punishment, dread bodily
+punishment, was to be meted out to the one human being left for her to
+love.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her train of thought was disturbed by voices.  Her uncle's dominated
+the rest.  It was loud and overbearing, and it seemed to increase in
+acrimony as he talked.  Ananda's replies were given temperately yet
+firmly.  Apparently angry tones and open insults had no power to raise
+fear or wrath.  He presented a firm front, growing, if anything, calmer
+as the other became more excited.  The older man would have found his
+task easier if his nephew had lost his temper, and become abusive and
+violent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again and again Sooba demanded recantation.  Each demand was met with a
+firm refusal, given patiently and without faltering.  Threats and
+blustering commands produced no effect, and so far the victory lay with
+the younger man.  That his uncle was fast losing control of himself was
+evident by his lapse now and then into a veritable scream of rage.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After an outburst of this kind more virulent than any that had gone
+before, came a call to his confederates.  Four or five men who were
+waiting outside the door, entered, and Dorama could distinguish that
+some action was taking place.  She divined what it was, though she
+heard no words.  Violence was being done to her husband's person, and
+he had not met it with the calmness that had characterised his speech.
+He had fought for his liberty, and in his struggles he had knocked over
+two of his assailants and his chair.  Five strong men were too many for
+him however; and as the noise and the scuffle subsided, Dorama knew
+that he was secured and bound.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Once more there was silence; it was presently broken by the hectoring
+tones of Sooba.  This time they met with no reply.  The men who had
+helped added their voices and raised an angry chorus of upbraiding and
+reproach.  It died down when their vocabulary of abuse was exhausted.
+This time the silence was so complete that Dorama could hear the
+melancholy cry of a night-bird as it passed overhead on its way to the
+forest-clad slopes of the mountain.  In the distance a jackal howled
+and led the yelping of the prowling pack of night-scavengers.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Suddenly she started and shivered as a sound fell on her ear that she
+had heard before at rare intervals in her life.  It was repeated, and
+she trembled from head to foot, burying her face in her hands.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Hindus, rich and poor, much as they love litigation over
+boundaries, irrigation rights and the division of property, rarely
+bring family quarrels and offences into court.  In cases of murder the
+law interferes; but where it is only assault in the privacy of the
+family, it is kept strictly private.  The victim and the aggressor
+equally shrink from the public inquiry necessitating the intrusion of
+the police.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama understood perfectly what was happening.  It would have been
+wise if she had returned then and there to her room.  She could do no
+good by stopping, and she ran a risk of being discovered.  But although
+she was aware of what would be discreet and wise, she was unable to
+tear herself away.  It seemed heartless to the beloved one to leave him
+in his dark hour.  She could not bring him consolation, but she could
+suffer with him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And suffer she assuredly did.  At every recurrence of the dull thud she
+shivered as though she herself had been struck.  Once a low cry escaped
+the lips of the victim, and her nails dug into her breast clawing
+unconsciously her own soft smooth flesh in her agony.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Fifteen minutes passed which seemed fifteen hours.  Surely it was
+enough and more than enough to expiate his sin against the guru and
+against his family.  Now they would stop! they must stop! that horrible
+sound must cease!  But the sentence of the swami was not completed yet,
+and again her ears were assailed by that ominous thud.  He bore it very
+silently.  Had they gagged him? or was he faint, she wondered?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At last a groan came from the sufferer, as though his endurance were
+failing.  It was too much for Dorama.  She felt that she must shriek
+aloud if she remained a moment longer.  She rose to her feet and,
+impelled by a mad desire to help him, she ran to the entrance of the
+yard.  How she was to accomplish her purpose she was not composed
+enough to think.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The door of the room was open.  She hesitated.  Dare she enter and bid
+them stop in their cruel work?  No! no! it would only increase their
+fury, and they would visit her offence upon him.  Perhaps they would
+kill him.  In the light of the yellow oil lamp she caught sight of the
+bamboo as it was once more lifted with slow, deliberate precision.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Putting her fingers in her ears she fled, never stopping until she
+reached the room in which she slept.  Prostrate upon her mat, her saree
+over her mouth to stifle her sobbing, she lay convulsed with grief.
+The women in the room slept heavily.  One of them stirred.  She lifted
+her head, drew aside the sheet that covered her, and listened.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is that you, sister?  Poor little mother!  The child is gone, and all
+through that evil husband of yours!  May he be cursed in a thousand
+miserable births!  Lie down, child!  Think no more about him!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama did not reply.  She subdued her sobs, and listened once more
+with painful alertness for the sound of returning steps through the
+inner courtyard.  They came, and as the men walked slowly back they
+talked in low voices.  It was well for Dorama's peace of mind that she
+could not hear what they said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Will he die under it?" asked one.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not he!" replied Sooba.  "I took care to use the stick so that it
+neither killed nor broke bones.  Although a Christian has no standing
+in a court of law in the State of Chirakul, there might be trouble with
+the English if he were done to death."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where was he going when we caught him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To the missionary," replied Sooba, shortly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No fear of his attempting to run away again just yet.  He will not be
+able to stand for a couple of days," remarked one.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Therefore I did not trouble to lock the door," said another.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has starved since last night, and now he has been beaten.  All this
+will surely drive the devil out of him," said a third.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If not he can have plenty more of the same medicine," rejoined Sooba,
+at which they all laughed in the best of humours.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap19"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XIX
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver was in what she termed "a fine taking," as Eola could see
+with half an eye.  When they met as usual after breakfast to consult
+together on household matters the young mistress inquired what was the
+matter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never mind me, miss," said the housekeeper with resolution.  "I'll
+tell you all about it when we've done the cook and butler business.
+Ramachetty!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He glided forward instantly, followed by his satellite, the cook; and
+the daily routine followed.  The supplies bought that morning were
+displayed.  How Eola hated the sight of the raw meat and live fowls
+exhibited for her inspection!  The butler's accounts were rendered, and
+what was a more difficult matter, brought into accordance with her own.
+The patient servants received their dismissal; the butler happy in the
+thought that he had succeeded in over-charging his mistress exactly ten
+annas in spite of the eagle eye of the housekeeper; the cook equally
+content in having cheated the butler out of four annas; the cook boy
+pleased with himself in the purloining of an onion, a potato,
+half-a-dozen leaves of the cabbage and as much ghee as an expert finger
+could scoop out of the pot.  Even the kitchen-woman was
+self-congratulatory.  She had substituted a rotten egg for a sound one
+brought from market; adulterated the coffee during the pounding process
+with burnt rice and charred crusts of bread.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now tell me what has happened to upset you, Mrs. Hulver," said Eola,
+with a sympathetic kindliness that was one of her charms.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's my son, miss.  Last evening the post brought me a letter to say
+that he was ill and was coming by the early mail this morning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And he hasn't arrived?" suggested Eola.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"On the contrary, Miss, he has come right enough; but you never saw
+such an object as he is in your life.  Of course I'm his mother, and as
+William&mdash;that was my second&mdash;used to say: 'Mother's love is the same
+all over the world, whether her child is as beautiful as an angel or as
+ugly as a graven image.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What has happened!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was this way, miss.  Some of the men in the regiment who ought to
+have known better&mdash;but as William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say: 'Age
+won't mend a born fool'&mdash;took advantage of my boy's youth and
+innocence.  They enticed him into the canteen and made him drink more
+than was good for him.  He doesn't lean that way, I am glad to be able
+to say with truth; and this will be a lesson to him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You haven't told me yet what is the matter," remarked Eola.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm coming to it all in good time.  It appears he was quarrelsome in
+his cups.  That's the odd part about drink, miss; you never know how
+it's going to act on your temperament.  As William&mdash;that was my
+third&mdash;used to say: 'Liquor is like love, Maria, me dear; some it will
+make joyful, others sad; some will want to be friends with everybody;
+others will fight on the smallest pretence.'  So it was with young
+William; he must needs fight another man in the canteen who was just as
+far gone as himself; and properly punished he was for his pains.  The
+sergeant treated him leniently as it was his first offence; and gave
+him a few days' leave to recover.  The boy is full of sorrow and
+repentance.  He doesn't trouble about his black eye one little bit.
+What he feels is the shame of it.  As William&mdash;that was my second&mdash;used
+to say: 'Shame cuts deeper than any whip, and the pain we bring on
+ourselves is the hardest of all to bear.'  My boy is feeling the truth
+of his father's saying nicely," concluded Mrs. Hulver, with grim
+satisfaction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What was it that provoked the quarrel?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"William was too far gone in drink to remember much; but he thinks that
+they were all talking about these sufferagette women&mdash;I'd make them
+suffer if I was the King!&mdash;and the man he fought said something very
+nasty about the sex.  I shouldn't have troubled if I'd been William.
+Just look at the harm the hussies do!  Here's William that knocked
+about and blackened over the eyes that his own father wouldn't know
+him, all through talking about them!  As if God hadn't made my boy dark
+enough in his complexion without their interference!  But as long as
+there are women to love there will be men to fight over them.  As
+William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say: 'When the Almighty gave ould
+Adam his wife, he handed him the shillelagh and told him to take care
+and use it like a gentleman.  It was only after the devil interfered
+that Adam thought of turning it against the lady herself.'  It was the
+woman that started men to fight and she will keep it up to the finish,"
+concluded Mrs. Hulver, with some heat.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sorry you are so troubled," said Eola.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I'm vexed that any of my trouble should be passed on to you.  I
+felt that I must tell you all about it; it wasn't right to keep it from
+you and the master.  I should have come to you last night only I didn't
+see the good of worrying you before the morning.  This morning, of
+course, it's my duty to tell you the truth and to hide nothing.  As
+William, the boy's own father, used to say: 'It's easier in the end to
+face the truth than to back a lie.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have him in your room, I suppose?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, miss; on the camp bed.  He has fever as well, through the cold
+water they soused his head in when he got violent.  He will be all
+right in a few days.  I have put a piece of raw beef on his eye and a
+poultice on his jaw.  He won't be able to talk for a day or two, but
+that won't matter.  As William, his father, used to say: 'Many suffer
+through too much talking, but very few through too much silence.'  I
+want you to come and look at him, miss."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Me!  Oh!  Mrs. Hulver!  I don't think I need come.  I am sure that you
+know what is best for him, and will see that it is done," said Eola,
+not at all in sympathy with the suggestion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All the same, miss, I should feel more satisfied if you would glance
+your eye over him," said Mrs. Hulver, in her most determined manner,
+which, as Eola knew by experience, took no denial.  "It will be good
+for him to see how seriously you take it.  As William&mdash;that was my
+second&mdash;used to say: 'Get your shot in when and how you can; don't wait
+for the enemy to come and ask for it.'  It's just the same with advice
+to the young."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid I can't do any good."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh yes, you can, miss; and it isn't you to take a back seat where duty
+calls and you're really wanted.  Of course I know that young soldiers
+are hot-headed, and we can't give them or any one else our experience
+any more than we can give them our digestions.  Experience unbought
+teaches naught.  They've all got to have it like the measles, and it
+seasons them and makes men of them.  As William&mdash;that was my
+first&mdash;used to say: 'Man is like a curry; he needs a lot of seasoning,
+and it can't be done all in a minute.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola rose very reluctantly.  Visiting sick soldiers who were suffering
+from their own indiscretions was not at all to her mind.  Mrs. Hulver's
+tongue continued to run on.  She bemoaned her boy's behaviour in one
+breath, and made excuses for him in another, with many quotations from
+the sayings of the defunct Williams.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The boy had no business to go into the canteen at all; but he's young
+and easily misled.  As William&mdash;that was my first&mdash;used to say: 'You
+can't roll a good cigar with green leaf.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then as Eola lagged behind, showing increasing disinclination for her
+task, she urged her more strongly.  "Come along, miss, please!  Come
+for my sake and show yourself.  It's for his good.  You need not stay
+long.  Just stand a minute near the bed and say as solemn as you can
+make it: 'William, I'm sorry to see you like this.  Let it be a
+lesson!'  Then you turn and go away quite slowly, and you say to me as
+you leave the room: 'This is very sad, Mrs. Hulver, very sad in one so
+young!' he won't forget it in a hurry you may be sure.  Dear! dear! who
+would have thought it!  As William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say:
+'Reckless youth makes rueful age.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As she talked she led the way to her little sitting-room.  The door was
+open.  At the further end was a camp cot and on it lay huddled the
+unhappy hero of the canteen row.  He still wore his scarlet uniform to
+Eola's relief.  She was dreading lest she should find him tucked up
+like a baby in bed.  The poor fellow had undoubtedly suffered from his
+indiscretion.  His head was tied up with raw beef and poultices, and
+the fever produced a shivering that necessitated the shawl muffled
+round his shoulders.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A miserable-looking creature for a mother to call son! isn't he, miss?
+As William, his father, used to say: 'Quarrels are like fire, more
+easily started than stopped; and those who get into them usually come
+out burnt.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor fellow, I hope he isn't much hurt," murmured Eola, quite
+forgetting her instructions.  She stood about three feet away from the
+bed with as much ease as if she had been inspecting a sleeping cobra.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Wenaston says she is sorry to see you like this, William," said
+Mrs. Hulver promptly, and in disapproval of Eola's weakness.  "She says
+let it be a lesson to you to keep out of the way of them that want to
+hurt you.  As your father used to say: 'Don't go into action if you can
+help it; but if you have to fight, take the measure of your enemy's
+strength.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mustn't worry the poor fellow, Mrs. Hulver.  Get him well first
+before you scold him," said Eola, turning away with more haste than she
+had come.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's all very well, miss; but as William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to
+say: 'What's the good of trying to beat the dog after you've let him
+loose?'  Young William over there," she turned and looked towards the
+prostrate figure, raising her voice so that nothing should be lost to
+the sick man, "has got to learn his lesson; who it is that he can
+fight, and who he had best leave alone.  As William&mdash;that was my
+second&mdash;used to say: 'Men are like dogs; and until they have taken the
+measure of their own strength against the strength of others there can
+be no peace for anybody.'  It was good of the sergeant to send him off
+at once to me.  If the commanding officer had seen him in that
+condition there would have been trouble.  William told me last time he
+was here that the colonel was very stiff with all offenders, especially
+in the matter of drink.  Likely as not he has never been drunk himself
+and he doesn't know how easily a man may be overtook when once he gets
+among others in the canteen.  Commanding officers, like artillery
+drivers, differ; one is easy with his team; another will take up every
+fault; but as William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say: 'A regiment is
+like a team; it doesn't have the choosing of its own C.O. any more than
+a bullock chooses its driver or its road.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola made her escape at last, and when her brother came in to lunch she
+told him the story of Mrs. Hulver's trouble.  He was not much
+interested, nor had he much sympathy with the foolish young man.  He
+expressed a hope that the worthy woman would not see too much of her
+son.  His second visit had followed very closely on his first.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"After all we mustn't forget that Mrs. Hulver, for all her excellent
+ways, is a Eurasian.  She possesses the family loyalty that marks the
+race, and will never turn her back on any relative while she has a
+shelter to offer, no matter what the character of the individual may
+be."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am quite sure," responded Eola warmly, "that she will not allow us
+to be worried or out of pocket, however worried she may be herself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All the same there is a strain of the 'soft-hearted old fool' about
+her that must not be disregarded; and she must be protected against
+herself if necessary.  If this boy turns up too often I shall have
+something to say to him.  Did you see the precious young idiot himself?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She insisted on it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Was he quiet?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As quiet as a bad go of fever and a black eye could make him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think I'll have a look at him myself, and if he is fit for it I
+shall give him a bit of a lecture."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She hasn't spared him herself," remarked Eola.  "He is poulticed with
+beef and bread and admonished with the wise sayings of the three
+Williams continuously.  I wonder how he can take it all so quietly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps I had better defer my lecture if that is so.  Any way I will
+go and see him.  He may as well be aware of the fact that his presence
+here is known to us both."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He went to the door of Mrs. Hulver's sitting-room.  It was open and
+revealed much the same sight as had met Eola's eyes, except that Mrs.
+Hulver was in the midst of dressing the damaged eye.  She held a large
+slice of raw meat in her hand which she was carefully adjusting over
+his temple and cheek, covering his eye altogether.  She turned her head
+at the sound of the master's footstep.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is that you, sir?  I'll come directly.  This is nearly finished.  I'm
+changing the beef on young William's eye.  Miss Wenaston told you the
+trouble I am in over this budmash of a boy?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As she talked she adjusted the wrappings and tucked the shawl round the
+patient's shoulders.  He was lying on his side.  At the sound of the
+Principal's voice he stirred uneasily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now, you keep quiet, William, or you'll fidget the plasters out of
+place.  You have got to be patient.  There's a time for fighting for
+soldiers, and there's a time for keeping quiet, and that time is now."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She came towards Dr. Wenaston, who had stopped on the threshold and
+continued, addressing herself to him instead of her son.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As William&mdash;that was my first&mdash;used to say: 'There's a season for
+everything.  Even the bamboo must be cut when the moon is waxing or it
+will be good for nothing.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sorry this has occurred, Mrs. Hulver," said the Principal, with a
+seriousness that would have set the pulses of his pupils going, but
+which had no such effect on his housekeeper.  "The hospital would have
+been the best place for him.  He mustn't think that he can run to his
+mother at every bruise and scratch."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would have been a case of guardroom not hospital, sir, if it hadn't
+been for the kindness of the sergeant.  As it is his first offence it
+would have been the first step towards destroying his clean sheets; and
+where would have been his chance of promotion if he didn't keep them
+clean?  The licking he has had will do him no harm.  It will teach him
+to keep off drink.  As William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say: 'When
+beer goes in wisdom goes out.'  You'd like to look at him, sir.  Come
+up to the bed.  He's too ashamed to make a salute, and his head is too
+bad to allow of his sitting up."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston walked into the room, and like Eola stood for a short time by
+the side of the cot.  He felt that it would be like hitting a man when
+he was down to reproach the sufferer in his present condition.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will see him again when he is better and have a talk with him," he
+said.  "You must let me know how he gets on."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, sir; a serious talking-to will do him no end of good."  She bent
+over the patient and laid her hand on his head.  "You need not shiver,
+William.  The Doctor will treat you kinder than those budmashes treated
+you in the canteen."  She turned to Wenaston again and continued: "Lor!
+sir, how easy fighting comes to men in the army.  It seems like a
+second nature to them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is their profession, Mrs. Hulver," said Wenaston, as he moved
+towards the door.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's exactly what William, my third, used to say.  He was an
+Irishman and his blood was soon up.  When I complained one day about
+his being quarrelsome with a neighbour his reply was: 'Maria, me dear,'
+he always began like that&mdash;he was such a gentleman&mdash;'Maria, me dear;
+it's second nature for soldiers to fight, the same as it is for dogs to
+bark and bite.  That's what the Government keeps us for; and a soldier
+who is worthy of the name doesn't think he is earning his pay without
+it.'  I often used to look at the men loafing round barracks with
+nothing to do, and to think that in times of peace they were like
+chimneys that had no fire in them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Quite so! quite so!" said Wenaston, making his way to the door.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver followed closely with a continuous stream of remarks, from
+which he strove in vain to escape.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As soon as ever young William is fit for it I'll send him to you, sir,
+for a good dressing-down.  You must check him for his quick temper.  As
+his own father used to say: 'A hasty man never wants for woe.'  And I
+should be glad if you would point out the danger of drink and how it
+upsets the judgment.  Also you might say a word or two on the folly of
+fighting when the odds are against you.  Don't let him talk.  Fill him
+up with as much good advice as you can get in in the time that you can
+spare for him.  As William&mdash;that was my second&mdash;used to say: 'If
+counsel is good no matter who gives it.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"All right, Mrs. Hulver; I'll do my best," said Wenaston, as he beat a
+hasty retreat towards the college buildings.  The housekeeper's tongue
+had won the day though she might not have known it, and his warning to
+her on softheartedness and the lecture to her son were still
+undelivered.  However, he promised himself that he would interview the
+man later on alone when he was less of an "object," as his mother
+expressed it, and would talk to him seriously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver stood at her door watching the Principal as he hurried
+away.  When he had disappeared she turned back into the room and went
+to the patient.  Leaning tenderly over him she placed her cool soft
+hand on his forehead, slipping it underneath the bandages.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Cheer up, William; cheer up, sonnie!" she murmured.  "God is where He
+was and He will help you through.  It's no good fretting when grieving
+is no comfort.  As William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say: 'Things you
+can't avoid are best taken cheerfully.'  No, don't try to speak.
+You've got to be silent till you're well, and I'll see that you're let
+off the master's lecture."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She called to the butler, who appeared immediately followed by the cook
+carrying a saucepan.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It's all ready, ma'am."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He poured the chicken broth through a strainer into a cup and handed it
+to her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's all right, Ramachetty," she said with approval, as she leaned
+over it.  "That's the kind of stuff that will make my boy well.  You
+can go.  Shut the door after you.  I don't wish my son to catch cold.
+Tell the sweeper woman to sit outside the bathroom.  I shall want her
+later on to boil the kettle for fresh poultices."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap20"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XX
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On the afternoon of the same day Wenaston and his sister were at tea in
+the verandah when a carriage drove up and stopped just beyond the
+portico.  Out of it stepped Sooba, Pantulu's brother.  He was unknown
+to the Principal, who took him for the parent of one of his pupils.
+Wenaston rose at once, always courteous, although at times a little
+stiff until he was certain that no favours were going to be asked.  Too
+often the visiting parent, after beating about the bush, would beg the
+Principal to promote his son in the school without due justification.
+Sometimes a bribe was offered.  It required a great deal of patience
+and self-control to deal with such people; and it was still more
+difficult to persuade them that promotion by favour did not advance the
+education of a boy but rather hindered it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You want to see me on business?" asked Wenaston, advancing to meet his
+visitor.  "Come in; I am disengaged for ten minutes, which is all I can
+give you.  At the end of that time I have an appointment in the
+college."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have called to ask you a favour, sir," said Sooba, in his best
+manner.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are the parent of one of my pupils?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sorry to have to admit the fact that I have no son.  It is about
+my nephew, Pantulu Iyer's son, Ananda, that I have come.  You engaged
+him as a master a short time ago.  He stayed only one day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah! now I understand.  I can't take him on the staff again, if that is
+what you have come to ask."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are right, sir; it would be a mistake.  He is unpopular in the
+town."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have no time to lose," said Dr. Wenaston, looking at his watch.
+"Will you explain what you want me to do?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They were standing in the verandah facing each other.  Sooba shuffled
+his feet slightly.  The action said much to the Englishman and put him
+on his guard.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Last night Ananda left his father's house and we don't know where he
+is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is there any reason why he should not leave Chirapore if he wishes to
+do so?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would be without his father's consent," said Sooba, boldly making
+use of his brother's name.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston was slightly puzzled.  Ananda's movements were not his affair.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What do you want me to do?" he again asked, with a touch of impatience
+this time.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I thought that perhaps you might give us some assistance in our
+search."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The Englishman regarded him with surprise as he answered in quick
+decisive tones.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid I cannot do anything of the kind.  I am too busy to spare
+the time.  Besides, Ananda's movements really do not concern me or the
+college."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was not my intention to ask you to leave your duties, sir."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then how can I help in the search for the lost man?  He has probably
+left the town, where as you yourself say he is unpopular.  Under the
+circumstances it is the best thing that he can do.  Have you inquired
+at the station if he were among the passengers who were travelling by
+the mails last night?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He can't have taken either of the trains, north or south, as he was
+seen in his room after their departure."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you any suspicion where he can have gone?" asked Wenaston, trying
+to get at what was at the back of his visitor's mind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a definite pause before the reply was given.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have reason to think, sir, that Ananda is here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Here!" repeated Wenaston, astounded and not altogether pleased. "I
+don't understand what you mean; what grounds you have for saying so.
+Have you thoroughly searched his father's house?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have hunted everywhere."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And why do you think he is here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sooba was unable to explain fully; there were too many facts that had
+to be suppressed.  One was the physical inability of the unfortunate
+man to go far afield in his crippled condition.  The college was the
+only place within possible reach where the fugitive might have found a
+refuge.  Sooba had no reliable information to go upon; he was acting on
+a suspicion arrived at by an exhaustive line of argument.  It was
+unlikely that Bopaul's people would offer an asylum; they would
+hesitate to do anything that might cause a breach between the two
+families.  Bopaul himself might befriend him&mdash;if he could see his way
+to do it without giving offence.  As for the rest of the town not a
+soul throughout would lift a finger to help an apostate to Hinduism, a
+man of broken caste who refused the restitution rites, an outlaw and
+outcaste deprived of all civil rights.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You were so kind as to allow him to come here before, sir," said Sooba
+smoothly.  "We thought that he would be sure to come to you again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you are wrong," replied Wenaston brusquely.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He did not like the manner of his visitor in spite of the careful
+deference put on with a little too much show, and he resented his too
+ready assumption that the college would, after all that had passed
+during the temporary mastership, offer a shelter and again receive the
+'vert.  It is due to Wenaston to say that he had no suspicion that
+Ananda had been badly treated.  Had it entered his head that there was
+any possibility of his being injured by assault, he would have appealed
+to the higher authorities of the State who would undoubtedly have
+interfered to protect him.  The verdict of outlawry was another matter.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can I assure Pantulu Iyer that his son is not here, sir?" asked
+Sooba in humble anxiety.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have my word for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As far as your knowledge goes, sir, I would not for a moment doubt it.
+I venture to suggest that he may be in hiding on the premises without
+your knowledge."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The school-bell rang and Dr. Wenaston made a movement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must go; and as for you, search the place if you like, college
+buildings, house and compound.  I am positive that you will not find
+him.  Look everywhere while you are about it, for you don't come here a
+second time.  You can go."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston'a manner jarred; it was not what Sooba had anticipated.  He
+had assured himself that the accusation of harbouring Ananda would have
+troubled the Principal; and that he would have exhibited anxiety to
+clear himself of the charge and show that it was not true.  Sooba's
+experience of the ways of Englishmen was extremely limited, and he
+found that he was mistaken.  To be treated in this contemptuous way was
+galling, and roused his spite.  If the fugitive should happen to be
+discovered on Wenaston's premises, he promised himself that he would
+make it hot for the Englishman, and create a rupture between him and
+the governing body of the college.  At the command to go there was
+nothing for it but to beat a retreat.  He directed his steps towards
+the class rooms where he intended to begin his search.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you really mean to allow him to go through the house?" asked Eola,
+who had listened in silence to the conversation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly; Ramachetty!"  The butler came at once at his master's call,
+so quickly that Eola smiled, in spite of her annoyance.  The gist of
+what Sooba had said had been overheard by others besides herself.  "One
+of Pantulu Iyer's people&mdash;&mdash;" he checked himself to ask a question&mdash;"Do
+you know who he is?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His brother, sir."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His brother, is he?  He believes that his nephew Ananda is hidden
+somewhere on the premises.  I have given him permission to search every
+corner of the class rooms and the house.  You are to accompany him all
+through and show him the servants' go-downs and the stables and garage."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is he to go through your rooms as well, sir?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; and Miss Wenaston's and Mrs. Hulver's."  He returned to Eola,
+upon whose face was a most unusual frown.  "I shall have something to
+say to the Dewan about this visit."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is outrageous; and you would be quite justified in refusing to
+allow him to enter a single room."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't like it any more than you do; but I think it politic to
+consent.  What he believes, he can make the boys believe.  I wish to
+avoid a recurrence of the boycotting."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall go out for a drive," said Eola.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The best thing you can do," replied the harassed man heartily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Wenaston returned to his class room in the nearest approach to a rage
+that was possible for a man with so even a temperament.  Sooba took
+care to avoid further encounter; and before the Principal reached his
+own lecture-room the search through that apartment had been completed.
+It offered no cover whatever with its bare table and desks.  A runaway
+rat could not have hidden itself.  As for a man or even a boy, the
+first glance round would have revealed him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The hunt through the college buildings lasted nearly an hour.  A little
+after five Sooba presented himself, at the house.  The butler was
+waiting for him; but being a pariah he was not at all to the taste of
+the searcher.  Sooba waived him aside with all the loathing and
+contempt shown to a man of no caste.  Ramachetty had received his
+directions, however, and did not budge.  He begged to inform his
+excellency, the visitor, that he dared not disobey his master's orders;
+whether his honourable excellency liked it or not he must accompany
+him.  After this there was nothing more to be said, and the searcher
+began his work, leaving the butler to follow at a respectful distance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was with much curiosity that Sooba entered each room of the
+Englishman's private dwelling.  Never before had he been inside a
+European's house.  He peered under tables and chairs and looked behind
+curtains.  The piano puzzled him, and he was not satisfied till
+Ramachetty had removed the front and exposed the strange wired interior
+that gave shelter to nothing larger than a mouse or a scorpion.  Eola's
+rooms were also examined and drawn blank.  There remained only Mrs.
+Hulver's.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The housekeeper's rooms only are left for your honour's eye.  Is it
+your excellency's wish to see them also?" asked Ramachetty.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Decidedly; the master gave permission for me to search every corner."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The housekeeper will not like it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who cares what she likes or dislikes?  She is his servant and must
+obey his orders."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The butler knew his position better than to smile.  He cast down his
+eyes demurely in case a twinkle of amusement should betray him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Her son is with her.  He is a soldier inclined to violence.  Your
+honour must not be angry with this slave if the soldier fights."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The inquisitive visitor hesitated.  The British soldier in the present
+day in India inherits a character that has been deeply impressed upon
+the native mind by his predecessors.  It is not a character for
+gentleness.  But the hesitation did not last long; the spirit of prying
+gained the day.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not afraid of a soldier.  If he is violent his colonel will have
+him punished," said Sooba, as he swaggered boldly up to the door of
+Mrs. Hulver's room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It stood open; apparently she had had notice of what she might expect,
+for he found himself confronted by the ample figure of the wrathful
+woman, who understood even better than her employers the great liberty
+that was being taken.  She glared at him with as much fire as her grey
+eyes were capable of showing, and pretended not to know who he was nor
+what he wanted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who are you, and what business have you got in my back verandah?" she
+asked unceremoniously, making use of the vernacular in such terms as
+she would have addressed one of the gardeners.  "I've got nothing for
+you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sooba returned an angry glance.  He understood the insult, but had no
+means of making her smart for it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have come by permission of the master of the house, the honourable
+Principal of the College, to look for a relative who is lost," he
+replied, with as much dignity as he could muster to his aid.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you suppose I have him in my pocket?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, woman; but I have reason to believe that he is hiding somewhere on
+these premises, and I will not leave until I have thoroughly searched
+them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Search away, then, and be quick about it.  See for yourself who is
+here.  I am not going to help you if you can't take my word for it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She turned her back on him and moved into the middle of the room.  As
+he did not follow immediately she called impatiently over her shoulder.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come along!  Don't stand there all the evening.  What are you waiting
+for?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His eyes were fixed with some anxiety on the figure extended upon the
+bed and a woman close by who was preparing to make a fresh poultice.
+She held a kettle of hot water in her hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's my son, William, a soldier on leave from Bangalore," remarked
+Mrs. Hulver, half turning to him again.  "His father was a soldier and
+he takes after him&mdash;short in the temper and strong in the arm.  You
+need not be afraid of him.  He's just recovering from a canteen fight
+in which he made a man bigger than himself&mdash;a regular giant&mdash;swallow
+all his front teeth; and they were his own, too."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a ring of unconscious pride in the mother's voice as she
+exaggerated her son's exploits.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not afraid of the soldier, woman," replied Sooba.  "The law
+protects me from violence.  What I object to is the presence of that
+sweeper by his cot.  She is a pariah and her presence is defiling to
+one of my caste."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh! is it?  All the same she is my servant and she is there by my
+orders and there she will stay."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The woman glanced at him with fear, and showed a disposition to abandon
+her work and retire in spite of "orders."  Mrs. Hulver detected the
+weakness.  She picked up the sweeper's broom that was lying near and
+pointed with it to the basin containing the bread.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You stay where you are till I give you leave to go.  Pour the hot
+water on to the bread.  Wring out those cloths and get them ready for
+the poultice.  As soon as I've seen this man through my rooms I'll take
+the beef off my son's eye and bandage it with wet rags."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The visitor stepped gingerly into the room, sidling away from the
+untouchable, and began to look round.  Mrs. Hulver took no notice of
+him.  Her attention was devoted to her son.  She leaned over him,
+patting his pillow and touching the shawl in her solicitude for his
+comfort.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You lie quiet, William," she said in English, "and don't you mind the
+visitor.  You've got to get well in time to join your regiment at the
+end of your leave or there'll be more trouble.  You must be patient.
+As William, your father, used to say: 'Time and patience will carry a
+man through the roughest day.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She loosened the bandages slightly and removed a large slice of raw
+beef which she contemplated with broad satisfaction as it lay on the
+palm of her hand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's done its work and taken down the swelling.  I wish it had taken
+out the colour as well.  We'll see what cold water will do for you
+next, with a little vinegar added."  She turned to the intruder and
+addressed him in his own tongue, although he knew English better than
+Ramachetty the butler.  "Well! why don't you get on with your hunt for
+your lost cousin?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She drifted towards the door by which he had entered, carrying the
+broom in one hand and the beef in the other.  Disgust and horror were
+written on the face of the Hindu as he eyed the two loathsome objects,
+and he slipped further away moving up the room.  Whether unconsciously
+or with deep design she had cut off his retreat completely, and there
+was no chance of retiring if he wished to keep his distance from the
+two caste-contaminating objects.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I can't have you here all day," she cried, irritably.  "Come! begin
+your search.  Go and look under that table."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She flourished the broom in the direction of a table covered with a
+cloth of gaudy colours where she sat to write the menus for the
+master's dinner.  He hesitated, his zeal had evaporated; and the object
+of his domiciliary visit was almost lost sight of in the contemplation
+of the sweeper's broom and the flesh of the sacred cow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come! get on!" continued Mrs. Hulver, moving towards him.  "I want to
+clear the room of strangers.  It's not good for the sick man.  My son
+is not so bad but what he can get up if he chooses and turn you out.
+Go and look under his bed.  That's your next place.  Dearie me!" she
+said, lapsing into English again.  "It seems as if this coolie expected
+me to do his work!  He began with impudence, but if he doesn't take
+care he'll end with something else.  As William&mdash;that was my
+third&mdash;used to say: 'Dine on sauciness and you'll sup on sorrow.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She took a step or two forward in the direction of her visitor.  He
+retreated, carefully gauging the distance between his own precious
+person and the various untouchable objects he had unwittingly
+approached.  The information that the hero of the canteen fight was
+able to rise from his bed if he chose and act the part of chucker-out
+was not reassuring.  He was allowed no time for reflection.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go and look under the bed next.  Lift the blanket that hangs down,"
+she said to the sweeper.  "Let the gentleman see that we haven't got
+his grandmother hidden under my son's bed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again she flourished the broom, this time at the woman, and she waived
+the raw beef at the seeker.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go on!  Don't be afraid.  William won't hurt you!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She advanced, and Sooba, more perturbed than he had been for many a
+day, avoided the bed and its attendant sweeper, and backed towards the
+open door of the bedroom, the only available retreat afforded from this
+awful person.  She followed and the hunter became the hunted.  Armed
+with her terrible weapons she drove him from pillar to post, obliging
+him to carry out his inquisition to its last detail, and look into
+holes and corners with eyes that could see nothing but that
+caste-destroying broom and beef.  After chasing him round the bedroom
+she forced him to enter the bathroom, where, in his confusion, he
+knocked over the sweeper's basket; and she kept him there whilst she
+explained that the place contained cover for nothing larger than a frog.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At last she let him go, and he beat an ignominious retreat, grazing his
+shins in his haste against the furniture.  He left the sitting-room at
+a run, closely followed by Mrs. Hulver; and as he passed out of the
+door the slab of raw meat that had relieved the warrior's wounds&mdash;flung
+by the hand of the outraged woman&mdash;caught him in the small of his back.
+The sweeper's broom, hurled after the beef, rattled on his naked
+calves, inadvertently exposed as, in a hurry, he gathered up his
+flowing muslin cloth.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+William's shoulders shook.  The sweeper woman hid her face in her cloth
+and grinned, in fearful doubt lest she was committing blasphemy in
+daring to smile at one of the twice-born.  As for Mrs. Hulver she
+dropped into her capacious cane chair and let herself go.  She rocked
+in helpless laughter, and the lounge creaked in sympathy with her
+movements.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That was a sight to make you feel better, sonnie!" she said, as soon
+as she could speak.  "The man ran like a bandicoot with its tail cut
+off!  I wish you could have sat up and looked at him, the impudent
+budmash!  He won't forget his visit to the college in a hurry, or my
+name is not Maria Hulver!  I'm glad I wasn't born to run away from a
+bit of beef like that!  He came in so proud and insolent, but he went
+away with a flea in his ear.  As William, your father, used to say:
+'There are many who go out for wool but come back shorn.'  Now we'll
+attend to this eye."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She pulled herself together and rose from her chair.  The poultice made
+by the sweeper was thrown away, though it was still hot.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That was only to pass the time and keep her there, the finest bogie to
+frighten my lord with that I could have found!  I was glad to see that
+you could laugh with me, Bonnie.  It shows you're mending."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She busied herself over his wounds with soft tender touch.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor boy!  Whichever side the victory lay you didn't get off without
+some hard treatment; but we'll soon get you well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How good you are to me&mdash;mother!" replied the invalid gratefully.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's right.  Don't you forget that I'm your mother.  I would like to
+get your enemy on his bended knees and make him pray for forgiveness
+for knocking you about like this&mdash;a man twice your age, too!  Shame on
+him!  But, there! as William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;said when the sergeant
+locked him up, thinking he was the worse for liquor when he wasn't:
+'Apologies make poor plaster.'  The sergeant was a bit hasty and he
+knew William's ways and leanings.  But he was wrong that time.  William
+wasn't drunk; he was dazed with the sun; and the sergeant apologised
+handsomely."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That evening Wenaston once more interviewed his housekeeper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You showed the man who called this afternoon over your rooms, I hope,
+Mrs. Hulver?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, sir; I took him all round and let him see everything; he was
+quite satisfied that the person he wanted wasn't here.  He didn't
+mention any names."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He was looking for his nephew, Ananda, the young man who has become a
+Christian.  He has disappeared, and it was thought that he might have
+taken refuge with us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know why he should do that when he has Mr. Alderbury to go
+to," remarked Mrs. Hulver indifferently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If by any chance he should appear you must let me know at once."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would you refuse to give him shelter?" asked Mrs. Hulver, looking at
+the Doctor with some curiosity.  As he did not reply at once she
+continued: "I should if I were you, sir, if you will excuse my speaking
+out.  There's no telling how these natives might take it if you
+befriended him in any way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shouldn't drive him away if he needed protection, Mrs. Hulver," said
+Wenaston.  "You must understand that as a Christian he has my warmest
+sympathy; and that as far as I am able I will do what I can for him;
+but as I pointed out to you before, I am not a free agent in this
+matter.  If he asks for assistance I will give it by sending him off at
+once to Mr. Alderbury, who is willing to help.  What I must not do is
+to give him shelter in the college buildings or in the house, much as I
+might wish.  We have tried that experiment once and it was a complete
+failure.  Therefore I ask you to come to me immediately if Mr. Ananda
+should present himself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very good, sir.  I don't think he is likely to turn up after the way
+those boys treated him.  I'm sure I have my hands full enough with
+young William without bothering about Mr. Ananda's troubles.  As
+William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say: 'Keep your eyes on your own
+road and don't worry about the pitfalls of other people.'  You may
+depend upon me for doing the right thing and not decomposing either you
+or Miss Eola."
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap21"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XXI
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu's brother returned from his domiciliary visit to the College
+filled with a deep and implacable wrath.  He buried it under a
+cheerfulness he was far from feeling.  Since the discovery in the early
+hours of the morning that Ananda had disappeared, the house had been in
+a ferment of unrest.  Again and again had the premises been searched.
+Visits were paid by various members of the family to the town and to
+the houses of acquaintances.  More than once had a call been made at
+Bopaul's and guarded questions put.  The market people who had arrived
+that morning from the country were interrogated; clerks and porters at
+the railway station examined but with no better result.  Help of some
+sort he must have had if he covered any length of distance.  A few
+hundred yards might have been possible but progress would of necessity
+have been slow and painful.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sooba was greeted on his return with a volley of questions from the men
+of the family.  To all of them he was obliged to confess that he had
+failed signally.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is not there; of that I am positive," he repeated over and over
+again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If he is not there, where can he be?" asked one in puzzled curiosity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has joined the English missionary," said another.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How could that be when he was unable to walk or even to stand?"
+inquired a third.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Some one has befriended him and he has escaped in a passing country
+cart."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it possible that he could have crawled to the jungle unassisted?"
+asked another.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A search in the forest with village dogs will soon settle that point."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not send some one to the mission house.  It will be easy to
+discover if he has arrived.  Once on British territory he need not hide
+any longer as we cannot touch him there.  He will be lost to us for
+ever, and we must give up all hope of catching him.  It will save
+trouble to know for certain if he is out of our reach."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good!" responded Sooba, who felt that he must take refuge in action of
+some kind if only to find relief for his injured feelings.  "I will
+send a runner at once to bring news."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is a post office peon who has a bicycle," said one of the
+listeners.  "For a consideration&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let him be called at once," said Sooba.  "He shall ask leave of
+absence on account of his wife's illness&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is not married."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His brother's, his mother's, any one will do!" replied Sooba,
+impatiently.  "I will give him twenty-five rupees if he can bring us
+the news by this time to-morrow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The post peon was sent for, and in less than an hour he departed on his
+errand.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The temporary master of the house was in an unhappy frame of mind.  Yet
+he had begun well.  He rose in the morning feeling particularly
+virtuous.  Success, he felt certain, must attend his efforts at
+recalling his nephew to his senses.  All along he had urged a more
+severe treatment.  The parents had been too lenient in drawing the line
+at the infliction of bodily pain.  Even now if it had not been for the
+insult to the swami the mother would not have consented.  Since it was
+the express order of the holy man she could not do otherwise than allow
+things to take their course; but it had been considered advisable to
+keep Pantulu himself in ignorance.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When Sooba had performed his domestic pujah, as became the head of the
+family, he went to Ananda's room.  The disappearance of the late
+occupant was a shock from which he had not recovered; and his visit to
+the Principal's house and the College only served to increase the
+disturbance of his mind.  It was not so much the failure of his search
+as the memory of the indignities to which he had been subjected by the
+woman who ruled the household.  Had the incidents that occurred in the
+housekeeper's room been witnessed by any member of his family or by a
+fellow caste man, they would have been magnified into serious breaches
+necessitating ceremonial purification.  This would have entailed
+expenses which, not being a rich man himself, he would fain avoid.  He
+did his best to school himself into the belief that he was mistaken;
+that in his confusion at finding himself in the presence of an angry
+woman and a sick soldier of admittedly bad temper, he imagined that he
+saw signs of the untouchable.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After some hours of brooding he succeeded in persuading himself that he
+had not been within the prescribed distance of the loathsome objects.
+A little more concentration and he arrived at the comfortable
+conviction that he was altogether deceived by a too vivid imagination
+which had played him false.  His caste had never been in jeopardy for a
+single moment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The disappearance of Ananda was not so easily dealt with.  The fact
+could not be ignored.  The more he thought over it, the more he came to
+look upon the escape as an insult directed against himself.  He was the
+master of the house in his brother's absence.  It was a piece of gross
+impertinence for any member of the family to leave without permission.
+It was setting at naught his authority and treating him with contempt.
+The more he contemplated the incidents of the last twenty-four hours,
+the greater grew the conviction that there must be a reckoning with
+some one.  Properly speaking it should be Ananda himself, for he was
+the origin of all that had occurred, including the disrespect
+experienced in Dr. Wenaston's house; but his nephew's absence precluded
+any possibility of settling with him in person.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sooba thereupon turned his attention to Mrs. Hulver.  Was there any
+means of making her feel the weight of his displeasure?  He took the
+trouble to inform himself of her habits and mode of life.  She seldom
+left the house except to go to market in the morning.  As the town
+possessed no English church, Dr. Wenaston held a service for himself
+and a few English people in Chirapore, in a room fitted up as a chapel
+in the Residency.  Thither Mrs. Hulver went on Sundays in the motor.
+To attack her and offer violence in the market would simply mean police
+and imprisonment.  She was never without the faithful Ramachetty, the
+cook, and the kitchen coolie who carried the purchases.  In the motor,
+seated with Miss Wenaston, she was safe from every kind of assault.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Brooding over the mystery of how Ananda escaped, who befriended him,
+and how he, Sooba, was to taste revenge, the evening meal was eaten and
+he retired to his pillow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The next morning the search was renewed, the seekers going further
+afield into the glades and woods of the mountain.  Woodcutters,
+herdsmen and cultivators were questioned; but not a sign had been found
+of the missing man.  Later in the day the cyclist returned with the
+news that the fugitive was not at the mission station.  Moreover, Mr.
+Alderbury was away on tour out of reach of the railway.  It was
+impossible that Ananda could have joined him on the road.  Even the
+peons carrying letters and supplies were no longer following him up.
+He was trusting to the villages through which he was itinerating to
+sell him milk, butter, eggs and fowls; and it was not known exactly
+where he was.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+If Ananda was not in hiding at the College, nor at the mission house,
+nor with the missionary himself where could he be?
+</P>
+
+<P>
+This was the question faced by the whole family as they drank their
+morning coffee and ate the freshly-made, unleavened rice cakes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+An elderly woman, experienced in the inner workings of the caste
+families of Chirapore, breathed the word "well."  It was an
+inspiration, and the suggestion was caught up at once.  Undoubtedly it
+was the well.  The premises contained no less than three wells; one for
+the use of the house, deep and containing a never-failing supply of
+pure water; a second near the cattle shed, and a third&mdash;more of the
+nature of a pond&mdash;used only for the garden.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+An examination of the wells followed immediately.  Two hours later the
+household was electrified by the news that Ananda's tweed cap had been
+found in the well near the cattleshed.  The well was deep; means for
+probing its depths were not available.  One of the herdsmen was lowered
+in the leather bucket, and he discovered the cap hanging from a
+protruding root in the masonry of the wall.  He was about to enter the
+water to dive for the body when he caught sight of a snake.  In terror
+he signalled to those above to draw him up at once; and after hearing
+his tale no one could be persuaded to continue the exploration.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sooba regarded the cap with a grim satisfaction which he took care to
+conceal under an expression of consternation and regret.  If Ananda
+chose to drown himself who could help it?  It was a fitting end to a
+perverse and wicked line of conduct.  He had caused the death of his
+child; the exile of his parents with the probable death of his father;
+and now he would be the cause of further disgrace to the family in the
+introduction of a widow.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He presented himself at the kitchen door where his wife, full of
+importance, was hustling the women through their appointed tasks.  She
+answered his summons at once, and inquired deferentially what it was
+that troubled the master of the house.  The busy hands ceased to pound
+and grind and stir as each person listened open-eyed to the story of
+the search and the discovery of the cap in the well by the cattle-shed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is undoubtedly drowned and in three or four days we shall find his
+body.  This is a terrible calamity for his widow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His glance passed beyond his wife and rested on the figure of Dorama,
+who stood transfixed with horror at the story just told.  As she met
+his eye, in which, in spite of all his self-restraint, a malicious
+triumph was revealed, she dropped to the ground covering her face with
+her hands and moaned in the bitterness of her heart.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It will be advisable for us to carry out the ceremonies as soon as
+possible.  They should be completed before my brother returns so that
+he may be saved the additional grief of seeing what can only bring
+before him more vividly all that has gone before."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+No need for Dorama to ask what those ceremonies were.  They did not
+concern the body of the dead man but her own person.  She shuddered as
+she crouched before the curry stone on which she was working in the
+preparation of green chutney, the task assigned to her regularly by her
+aunt.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When shall we perform them?" asked Sooba's wife, her eyes resting upon
+the beautiful gold boss that adorned Dorama's glossy hair.  "It is
+usual to wait ten days from the date of the death."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is not a common case.  To us and to his parents Ananda has been
+as good as dead ever since he landed.  There can be no funeral rites
+even when his body is found.  He has died an outcaste, defiled and
+unpurified, and as such he must be buried&mdash;not burned&mdash;at night with
+shame and dishonour and with no ceremonies.  My brother must not return
+till we have disposed of the dead man and completed the ceremonies of
+widowhood.  They shall take place three days hence which will give us
+time to call together the friends of the family.  You will also have
+time to prepare for their entertainment.  My brother will wish it done
+well and no expense spared."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And if the body is not found by that time, what then?" asked his wife.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The rites must be performed all the same.  I, the master of the house
+in my brother's absence, give the order."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He raised his voice although it was not necessary.  It penetrated to
+the very end of the kitchen and not a word was lost to the many pairs
+of listening ears.  If ears were directed towards the acting master of
+the house, eyes found another centre of attraction in the crushed
+figure by the curry-stone.  Pity struggled in their fatalistic minds,
+but in none was it strong enough to cause a stretching out of the hand
+in sympathy, nor to sound the note of consolation or comfort.  There
+was silence as Sooba walked away.  Although his head was bent and his
+features wore a sufficiently solemn expression, he was inwardly
+triumphant and full of satisfaction.  At last he had found an object on
+whom he might be revenged; on whose devoted head he might with safety
+retaliate.  As he had suffered indignity and disrespect, so now she
+should have the same measured out tenfold.  In the absence of the man
+himself it was meet that his wife should feel the weight of his
+displeasure.  The probability of Ananda being still alive was set
+aside.  As he desired so he chose to believe, and on that belief he
+intended to take action with as little delay as was possible.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+That afternoon Bopaul with Mayita in attendance, strolled into the
+compound with the intention of looking up Ananda.  Leaving the girl
+under the trees near the wall, where she was partially hidden from
+view&mdash;lest the sight of her should prove an offence to the family&mdash;he
+turned towards Ananda's room.  The green gourd outside in the little
+yard had produced some shapeless succulent fruit.  It continued to send
+up an abundance of loose yellow cups of flowers to the sun, and though
+there had been very little rain of late the foliage maintained its
+emerald tint.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The door of the room was ajar.  Bopaul called Ananda by name as was his
+wont; but receiving no reply he entered.  The place was deserted.
+Except for the two portmanteaux it was devoid of all sign of the owner.
+Hitherto on the occasion of his visits he had seen books and writing
+material lying about; a coat thrown over a chair; cap and walking-stick
+on the table.  Nothing of the kind was visible, and he wondered what
+had happened.  Had his friend decided to go, and managed to slip away
+after all?  Yet he could not have gone far nor for long; the presence
+of his luggage testified to the fact that he intended to return.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the midst of his speculations a member of the family arrived
+sauntering in with unconcern.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are looking for Ananda.  We saw you come in and guessed that you
+would be here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where is he?" asked Bopaul, in surprise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is dead; drowned in the well near the stable."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul expressed his consternation and regret, and asked how the
+accident had occurred.  The man laughed unsympathetically, in a manner
+that grated on the feelings of the visitor.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The wonder is that it has not happened before.  It was not an
+accident.  He threw himself into the well at night when we were all
+asleep.  It was the best way out of the difficulty that he himself had
+created by turning Christian.  It will prevent further trouble and
+vexation, even though it saddles the family with a widow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have the funeral rites been performed?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How can an outcaste receive the funeral rites of an orthodox Hindu?"
+the other asked contemptuously.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has been burned, then, without them?" said Bopaul, regarding the
+man with increasing displeasure.  He did not like the tone adopted.
+"It is strange we have heard nothing of the affair."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There has been no burning and no burial for the excellent reason that
+we have not yet recovered the body from the well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It has been seen, of course?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His cap has been found."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you only his cap as evidence?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Isn't that sufficient?  The master considers it ample, and he and his
+wife are already beginning to make preparations for the ceremony of
+breaking the bangles and shaving the widow's head."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is that so?  Surely it is full early for the widow rites when the body
+of her husband is still missing?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If he were a respectable Hindu, religious and obedient to the law of
+caste, it might be a trifle early; but in this case the man has been
+dead to the family ever since his return from England.  It was a cursed
+day on which his father consented to his crossing the black water.
+Alive or dead the sooner his position is recognised, and his wife
+treated accordingly, the better pleased shall we all be."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't believe Ananda is dead," remarked Bopaul, after a few seconds'
+consideration.  "He is not the man to commit suicide.  It is far more
+likely that he has gone away in the night and has made his escape from
+those who waited for him with no kindly intentions."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Run away or dead, it is all the same," persisted the other.  "And as
+for his wife she would have become as truculent as himself.  Did you
+hear how she tried to escape with him?  We discovered her absence on
+the night the child died and followed her.  They were brought back
+together; and as a reward for his pains Ananda was beaten by order of
+his uncle."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Beaten!  Surely his father did not give his consent to such an extreme
+course?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The big master was not asked and he knew nothing about it.  He became
+sick after the child's funeral, and he has gone to one of his
+silk-farms ten miles away.  He knows nothing and he cares nothing.  His
+spirit is broken by the wickedness of his son, who deserves all that we
+gave him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Possibly Ananda has joined his father," suggested Bopaul, who refused
+absolutely to believe in the theory of suicide.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not he!  The stick fell too long and too heavily&mdash;for we all took
+turns&mdash;to leave him with strength or spirit to run away again.  After
+we had finished with him he could not stand."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul turned away; he was disgusted with the openly expressed
+brutality of the speaker; and he was profoundly sorry for his friend.
+All along he had feared that something of this kind would occur.  The
+ways of caste families were familiar to him.  His own people would have
+pursued the same course had he become an apostate from Hinduism.  He
+stopped to ask another question.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are sure that he was unable to leave the compound after&mdash;&mdash;" he
+paused, unable to frame the expression.  The other understood.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Quite certain; the man was too sore to put one foot before the other,"
+he replied with a hard laugh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How do you suppose he got to the well?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"On his hands and knees, of course."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And the widow ceremonies will take place three days hence?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Without fail, knowing how set upon the business Sooba is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul walked back to his sister deep in thought.  The news troubled
+him.  He was helpless in the matter, and could do nothing.  He wished
+that he had brought more pressure to bear upon his friend when the
+offer came from Alderbury.  That was a golden opportunity missed that
+was not likely to occur again&mdash;always supposing that Ananda was still
+alive.  That he was dead, and by his own hand, was impossible of belief
+the longer he considered it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mayita was still playing happily enough.  She was in the middle of an
+imaginary wedding.  A datura blossom was the bride and a wood-apple the
+bridegroom; she was playing the part of the go-between, and was
+negociating the dower.  When she saw her brother she hid the happy
+couple in the folds of her rough cloth, whispering to the bridegroom
+that his joy should not be long delayed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come, little one," said Bopaul.  "We must go home to our mother.  You
+will soon have a companion to play with."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I! who will have the courage to play with a widow in the face of the
+gods?" she asked sadly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"One who will be in the same sad case as yourself, child."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Another widow!  I will not play with her!  Is it not enough to have me
+in the house?  We do not want a second widow to double our ill-luck.
+Only this morning the eldest son of our cousin met me by the cowhouse,
+not knowing that my mother had sent me for some milk.  He cursed me;
+but all the same two hours later as he was running through the garden a
+thorn entered his foot and made him lame.  I thought his mother would
+have beaten me; she was so angry; she said it was all my fault.  I hid
+till you called me; I was so frightened, too frightened to eat any
+breakfast; so I am very hungry now.  No! no! brother! we want no more
+widows in our house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She will not live with us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who is she?" asked Mayita, her curiosity aroused.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ananda's widow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aiyoh!  Is it possible that Ananda is dead!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Anyway his wife is a widow and the ceremonies take place three days
+hence."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor Dorama!  Aiyoh! poor Dorama!"
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap22"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XXII
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Little news was received from Pantulu Iyer and his wife.  It was
+conjectured that there was none to impart.  If he became decidedly
+worse the family at Chirapore would be duly informed; but if he only
+continued to drift gradually down the hill nothing would be said.
+Sooba and his wife, ever ready to believe as they hoped, made up their
+minds that the head of the house could not last much longer, and that
+the younger brother would soon be called upon to perform those
+ceremonies which should belong to the son, the performance of which
+established the right of the performer to be recognised as head of the
+house.  Could they have glanced at the presumably dying man they would
+have sustained a shock.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Contrary to all expectation Pantulu was improving in health every day.
+He recovered his appetite as well as his strength and spirits with a
+readiness that astonished his wife.  Away from his home and surrounded
+by new interests he shook off the terrible depression caused by his
+son's conversion to Christianity.  A reaction was setting in, enabling
+him to detach his thoughts from the trouble and centre them elsewhere.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The silk farm was one of his early ventures, when, as a young man, he
+had tried with considerable success to improve the culture of
+silk-worms.  The system he introduced answered so well that it was
+generally adopted throughout the silk-growing districts, with the
+result that a finer and stronger silk was produced.  Perfection,
+however, was not attained, and of late years there had been a forward
+movement in the Far East which again placed the silk of Chirakul in the
+background.  The relative in charge of the farm was an enthusiast in
+his way, and he was delighted to find that in Pantulu he had a ready
+and sympathetic listener.  He was quite sure that further improvement
+might be effected in the boiling of the cocoons and the bleaching of
+the silk.  He had made a few experiments himself and he exhibited the
+results with some pride.  Together they pored over the evil-smelling
+stuff that was one day to robe a woman's dainty form, and exhale
+nothing but the atta of rose and sandal-wood with which it should be
+scented.  It was a good strand of silk, but the tint, a dull stain,
+would only take crude strong dyes, that lost their brilliancy and
+purity through the stain.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The manager of the farm had recently been to Bombay where he had met
+some silk growers from China.  Though these men were reticent and
+jealous of imparting their knowledge to foreigners, he managed to
+extract some information and to gather that more might be learned by a
+visit to China and Japan.  Since his return he had made the attempt to
+improve the silk; and though the result left much to be desired, it was
+sufficiently encouraging to show the old expert that the experiment
+should be pursued.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The second day after his arrival Pantulu spent the morning over the
+caldrons; and when summoned to the midday meal he entered the little
+bungalow with a firm, brisk step that bespoke an unusual readiness for
+dinner, and a line of thought that was free from anxiety.  Gunga looked
+up from the steaming pot of rice which she was manipulating and glanced
+at her husband with surprise.  If this was the result of a return to
+work it should not be her fault if the cure was not completed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Always prompt and unusually practical for a woman of her nation, she
+made a startling proposition that very afternoon.  It was nothing less
+than the despatch of the manager to China and Japan on a tour of
+inspection, that he might examine thoroughly into the methods of
+silk-growing and preparation for the dyers' vat.  She suggested that
+Pantulu himself should manage the farm during his absence.  The
+cousin's wife and family were to remain on the estate and keep house as
+usual.  Every now and then Gunga would go over to Chirapore and see
+that all was going well.  Meanwhile Sooba and his wife would represent
+the head of the family and look after the business in the town.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The proposal was received by the two men with approval.  Pantulu's eyes
+grew bright as he considered the plan; and at her question as to
+whether he felt strong enough for the work that it would involve, he
+drew himself up to his full height and assured her that it would make a
+new creature of him.  The change of air had already wrought wonders and
+she must not look upon him as an old man past all business.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My brother will be surprised when he hears the news," remarked Pantulu
+with a new pride in his rejuvenation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is not to be spoken of at present," said Gunga with authority.
+"I have other plans connected with it, and until they are more forward
+I wish for secrecy; for I will have no interference; none!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her lips closed firmly, and Pantulu knew of old that when his wife was
+determined on any course of action nothing moved her from her course.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are they, wife?" he asked, with a smile of amusement.  "May we of
+this house be told?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you can keep your tongues quiet.  Our cousin's wife, here, is a
+Mahratta woman who knows Bombay.  She has suggested that we should send
+our son there to act as agent for the sale of our produce.  She says
+that though he is lost to our religion, he need not be lost to the
+family business.  Many people of caste in Bombay have joined the Brahmo
+Somaj and the Arya Somaj and a few have become Christians.  With all
+these changes before their eyes the people of Bombay feel less
+bitterness towards the men who take up a new faith than those of a
+state like Chirapore; and there is no persecution.  The English
+Government protects them all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu did not reply immediately, and Gunga continued to unfold plans
+that were to include the obstinate son and a compromise.  She paused to
+take breath and he spoke.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The difficulty over the shraddah ceremonies will still remain, the
+rites by which my ancestors and I may escape the lower rebirths."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gunga looked at him and pursed up her lips as though she had by no
+means exhausted her resources.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Our cousin's wife has proposed a remedy for that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He glanced at her with questioning eyes that showed how near to his
+heart the subject and consequent anxiety lay.  Before he could frame
+the query as to ways and means she continued.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The time has not arrived yet to talk about it.  First and foremost,
+husband, you are the chief consideration.  You must get well and
+strong.  For that purpose there is nothing like work and food and
+change of air, as I have told you more than once.  Here you will have
+all that is necessary."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What shall we tell my brother?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Leave that to me.  I will dictate a letter saying that it will be
+advisable for you to remain here, and praying him to look well after
+your interests at Chirapore.  When I go back, which I shall do before
+long, I will explain more."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Pantulu was well content to leave everything in his wife's hands.  The
+new venture had taken hold of his mind, and it dominated every other
+consideration.  At the bottom of it lay money; and though his wealth
+was great already, "Gold" had a reviving effect upon the man, as the
+word "rats" had upon the sick terrier.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+On the day appointed for the ceremonies to take place, which were to
+brand Ananda's wife with the curse of Hindu widowhood, a large party
+assembled at Pantulu's family mansion in Chirapore.  Relatives
+accompanied by relatives arrived from all parts of the State.  Gossip
+circulated freely.  News was given and demanded; and many were the
+questions asked concerning the absent master and mistress.  Sooba was
+ready with his tale, adorned and coloured according to his imagination
+without much regard to the truth.  Gunga's letter had been received;
+and as she made no allusion to her husband's health it seemed safe to
+assume that there was no improvement.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My sister-in-law asks me to consider myself the head of the house as
+long as my brother is absent.  She says that it is best for him to
+remain where he is; it will give him a better chance of recovery," he
+said.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then there is hope that he may get well?" asked one of the guests.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She may have hope herself; we do not entertain much.  It is more than
+likely that he is too sick to move."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How long do you think he will last?" enquired another.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A few weeks at the outside," replied Sooba.  "The news of the
+disappearance of his son will probably hasten his end."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Has it been sent yet?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not yet; we are waiting till this ceremony is finished.  It would be
+very bad for him if he insisted on returning for it; so we have thought
+it best to get it all over before mentioning anything."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was very gratifying to be treated as the master of the house.  Sooba
+revelled in the situation, and swaggered about among his guests as if
+he already owned his brother's wealth.  It all helped to sooth the
+wounded self-esteem; and to soften the memory of the insults he had
+received at the hands of Mrs. Hulver.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The afternoon had been chosen for the ceremony; but ever since daybreak
+active preparations had been in progress.  The victim had undergone
+ceremonial ablutions; her hair had been combed and oiled and her whole
+person scented.  The long glossy strands of hair were plaited and in
+the plaits were woven white jasmine blossoms.  Gold ornaments freshly
+burnished were fastened on her head and in her ears and nostrils.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A close-fitting jacket of crimson satin and a rich tawny silk saree the
+colour of wall-flowers enfolded her figure.  Round her neck hung four
+beautiful necklaces of pearl and gold and precious stones, all of which
+had adorned Gunga on her wedding day many years ago.  Ankles and wrists
+were laden, and Dorama's slender fingers were filled to the first joint
+with rings that were heirlooms.  Her forehead was rubbed with sweet
+sandalwood paste, her lips touched with rouge, and the beautiful brown
+eyes intensified in size by dark touches beneath them.  They needed no
+pungent juices to make them bright.  The unshed tears were sufficient
+to keep them moist.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The assembled guests had had time to dine and afterwards to talk over
+all the news.  Many had paid a visit to the well down which they
+glanced morbidly at the root where the cap was found hanging.  By half
+past three the waiting began to grow irksome, and enquiries were made
+for the widow.  She was coming! they were told.  It had taken long to
+fasten all the jewels.  There were so many! not one worn on the wedding
+day was missing; and in addition she wore others that were purchased
+for her when her son was born.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The mention of little Royan was the signal for sighs and lamentations.
+They were interrupted by the appearance of Dorama led by her aunt.
+Dressed as when she was given to her husband she stood before them, her
+eyes downcast and brimming with tears, her delicate fingers plucking
+nervously at the folds of her saree.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At the sight of her the women burst into open wailing.  Some of them
+pressed forward and cracked the joints of their knuckles over her head
+as though they would still try to avert her hideous fate.  Others
+kissed her cheek and hair, her soft arms, even the gold embroidered
+edge of her saree.  Tears flowed freely; the sight of the grief of
+others opened the fountain of her own sorrow, and Dorama wept with them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was a pathetic sight; the girl dressed in bridal array for the last
+time in her young life, and the sympathetic company bewailing her fate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A golden ray of the afternoon sun shot slanting downwards into the
+courtyard and caught the gleaming jewellery, reddening the rich tint of
+her silk garment, and warming the lights in the precious metal.  Here a
+crimson ruby sent out a shaft of fire; there a green emerald and blue
+sapphire set in gold completed the rainbow colours.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The company revelled in the luxury of grief and prolonged the
+leave-taking, repeating over and over again their sorrow and regret
+that the gods had dealt thus hardly with her.  Then as the sun drew
+down towards the west, she was led by her uncle and aunt through the
+little yard and into Ananda's room.  The company followed, and the
+space was quickly filled with the throng of sightseers still wailing
+and weeping without restraint.  The green foliage of the gourd was
+trodden down; its fruit and yellow blossoms were crushed under careless
+feet as the crowd pressed forward to see the degrading rites that were
+to be carried out by the two relatives who had constituted themselves
+master and mistress of the ceremonies.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+First the jewels were removed.  One by one they were unclasped and
+handed to members of the family to be held in safe keeping till they
+could be restored to the jewel chest.  Every woman rich or poor wears a
+few dark bangles of glass.  Among the golden circlets on her arms
+Dorama had three or four such rings on each wrist.  With every movement
+the bangles clinked musically as they fell against the gold bracelets.
+Armed with a stone her aunt seized her by the hand and struck the
+brittle glass sharply.  At the sound of the blows the wail of grief was
+again raised.  This was the first act in the tragedy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Denuded of all her adornments she was next disrobed.  The coloured
+jacket was removed; the silk saree unwound from her limbs.  A coarse
+rough cloth of unbleached cotton was produced and twisted round her
+figure.  Widowhood permitted but one garment; nevermore would she be
+allowed to wear jacket or petticoat or any soft material that might
+protect her sensitive skin from the rough web of the cotton saree.
+This was the second act.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The third, by far the worst part of the ordeal, was still to come.  Her
+abundant hair was unplaited slowly and the sweet jasmine blossoms that
+had been woven into it dropped upon the ground at her feet, where they
+lay all unheeded, contaminated and cursed by the touch of the widow.
+Again the women crowded closely, some of them lifting the tresses to
+their lips, with lamentations that one so young and beautiful should
+meet with such misfortune.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In the light of the sunset glow the scissors shone as the hand of the
+barber woman was raised to perform her share of the ceremony.  The hair
+that reached far below Dorama's waist was gathered in none too gentle a
+grip and severed close against the head.  Not content with this, custom
+demanded the use of the razor.  As the sunlight faded behind the purple
+mountain, Dorama's head was disfigured beyond recognition.  A fresh cry
+of grief rose from the assembled crowd, as they stared with growing
+repulsion at the sight.  The only dry eyes were those of the temporary
+master of the house and his wife.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One more ceremony remained to be performed.  This was the severing of
+the marriage cord on which the badge corresponding with the European
+woman's wedding ring hung, Dorama felt the cord press against the back
+of her neck as her aunt drew it tight the better to divide it.  As it
+parted the tension relaxed and the gold badge dropped into the hand
+extended by her uncle to receive it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With a despairing cry Dorama fell upon her knees, and leaning forward
+touched the ground with her forehead as if in resignation to the will
+of the gods.  Round her lay the scattered jasmine blossoms that had
+dropped from her hair.  In their death they exhaled their sweetness on
+the evening air.  They were no longer the adornment of the bride but
+the offering to one who was to suffer a living death.  Nevermore would
+the sight of the wax-white flowers remind her of a happy expectant
+bridegroom.  Thenceforth they would speak only of death and misery.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It is strange how the Hindu who is extravagant in his grief, piles up
+pain and sorrow for poor suffering humanity.  As if the gods had not
+brought sufficient wretchedness on the unhappy wife by the loss of her
+husband, he devises in his inhuman ingenuity this barbarous method of
+enhancing the sorrow that is already almost too great for endurance.
+When the girl is dressed up for the last time and appears before the
+assembly she is greeted with profound pity.  As the ceremonies proceed
+that pity gradually emerges into loathing and contempt.  The woman
+herself with all her sweetness and gentleness is forgotten, and her
+widowhood only is remembered.  She enters upon an existence that is
+absolutely without a relieving ray of hope.  She is often the drudge of
+the house; she has no rights moral or otherwise; and she is at the
+mercy of the most tyrannical woman of the household and the most
+licentious man.  Her only chance of escape is in death; but even death
+has no promise of greater happiness.  Her rebirth on earth will,
+according to her faith, only plunge her in deeper misery and
+degradation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+How such an appalling custom can have arisen out of the past ages it is
+difficult to say; and it is still more puzzling to understand why it is
+maintained among a people who are neither savage nor uncivilized.  No
+other nation has anything to offer that is its equivalent in refined
+and far-reaching cruelty.  Never a day passes but the rites are
+performed somewhere throughout the length and breadth of India.  Never
+a night goes by that does not see some stricken girl or woman
+grovelling on the floor of her chamber in abject misery alone and
+uncomforted.  Too often the misery is ended by a catastrophe, a rush
+towards the well; a plunge and then stillness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And what then?  Does any one care?  Not in the least.  Even the mother
+of the girl sheds no tear and makes no lamentation.  The house is
+relieved of the presence of the ill-starred widow, a certain source of
+misfortune, and her removal is a blessing for which the gods are
+thanked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+One by one the company drifted away, some to depart at once for their
+homes, others to indulge in fragments of gossip in the back verandah.
+The place was empty at last of all save the prostrate figure lying
+among the jasmine blossoms in the room where, only a few nights ago,
+she had crept into the arms of a loving husband.  The gourd was crushed
+and trampled to death in the yard; the glory of its green leaves and
+yellow cups was as ruthlessly destroyed as her own crown of womanhood.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A cicala in the grass outside began his evening note of challenge.  It
+was answered by the metallic defiance of a rival.  A pair of little
+flycatchers slipped into their roosting place in the oleander bush at
+the entrance, with complaining chirrups at having been kept up so late
+by the invasion of the yard.  A pale, yellow moth fluttered like a
+ghost over the jasmine flowers, puzzled at its inability to draw honey
+from what had been done to death.  The hum of the town, busy with its
+evening trading, came faintly through the stillness of the air and died
+down again; and the peace of approaching night dropped softly on the
+earth.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Not one of that numerous family gave a second thought to the stricken
+woman whom they had left.  Not a soul returned to offer consolation.
+Their actions faithfully indicated their minds.  No one cared what
+became of the widow; no one heeded her steps.  Under her ban she was
+free to come and go as she chose.  From thenceforth she need have no
+fear of lock and key; unless it might be for the purpose of keeping her
+out of sight of her more fortunate fellows.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+In earlier days Dorama had wondered how Mayita had been able to bear
+the fate that had overtaken her.  She recalled the fact that she had
+herself shrunk from the baldheaded child, and avoided a meeting without
+any attempt at disguising her action.  And now she was in exactly the
+same case herself! ah! she could not bear it.  It was intolerable; a
+moan broke from her lips as the reality of the present separated itself
+from the shadows of the past.  She writhed in rebellion against her
+fate, and as she did so she felt the iron of the inevitable enter her
+soul.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was unbearable.  She could not face it!  Cost what it might she must
+escape!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was but one way.  She knew it, as she had heard it spoken of when
+other women suffered the same fate.  Yes: they were right.  Death was
+preferable to life under such conditions.  Her beloved husband had
+sought for death in the well.  If she ran quickly, and hurled herself
+over the low wall before she had time to look into the black cold
+depths, she could find courage enough to carry out the design without
+faltering.  It would be best too for the house, and relieve it of the
+disastrous presence of a widow.  Royan was gone; Ananda was gone; it
+was only fitting that she should go too.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She rose to her feet determined to act at once before her courage
+failed her.  She turned and staggered blindly to the entrance that
+admitted the faint starlight of the night.  As her foot crossed the
+threshold she felt a pair of small arms thrown around her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dorama! sister, it is I!  Coomara's widow!  I have come to join my
+tears with yours!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+And promptly Mayita buried her face in the coarse new saree of her
+sister-widow and gave full rein to her grief.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama felt like a drowning waif who had abandoned hope, and to whom
+was suddenly held out a friendly hand.  She clung passionately to
+Mayita, trembling and catching her breath in dry sobs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sit down, sister," said Mayita presently.  "Let us talk.  No one cares
+where the widow is, nor what she does.  Listen; I have news for you.
+This morning they put ladders down the well by the cattle shed where
+your husband's cap was found.  They searched for his body with hooks
+and nets, but they found nothing.  If he is there he lies like a stone
+at the bottom.  Some say that as he turned Christian he cannot come up.
+The devil living in the well has eaten him.  My brother laughs and says
+they are all mistaken.  He is not there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not there!" cried Dorama startled.  Then as the flicker of hope
+momentarily kindled died down she added: "But if not there, where can
+he be?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has gone to the missionary, the good Englishman, who will be a
+father to him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Impossible!  He could not stand, far less walk, after the beating that
+they gave him; and he had no friends."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My brother assures me that he is alive and he means to make sure of it
+by secret inquiry.  Oh, Dorama! dear sister!  I am so sorry for you.
+But listen!  Beloved!&mdash;I may call you so now.  Beloved! it is so sweet
+to have a sister!  I have been so lonely since my evil fate overtook
+me.  Oh! so lonely!  With only the good Bopaul to say a kind word to
+me.  Even my mother hates the sight of me, and curses me because I
+bring bad luck to the house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a pause during which the two girls clung together.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sister!" whispered Mayita striving to catch sight of the other's face
+in the dim light.  "Sister, where were you going when you fell into my
+arms?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama did not reply, but suddenly she began to moan.  Mayita strove to
+comfort her, and when the agitation lessened she began again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sister! you were going to the well.  It must not be.  You must live
+lest by any chance your husband comes to life again.  It will be hard,
+oh, very hard sometimes, almost more than one can bear.  But for his
+sake it must be borne; for, if he ever does come back, it will
+assuredly send him to the well if he finds that you are dead.  Promise
+me, sister; promise me that you will not go to the well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I promise, little one!" replied Dorama brokenly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's right!  Now it is time for me to go back."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Alone, little sister?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My brother waits for me by the gateway.  He is so good! oh, so good to
+the poor widow.  May the blessing of all the gods I have offended rest
+for ever on his dear head."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama watched her white figure till it was lost in the darkness of the
+night.  Then she turned her face towards the garden entrance and passed
+unnoticed into the house.  They who happened to be near the path she
+took in crossing the courtyard, stepped aside so as to place themselves
+well out of reach of possible contact with her shadow.  Others seeing
+her coming turned back into the room they were leaving, and closed the
+door till she should have passed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When the evening meal was served out, knowing too well what was
+expected of her, she remained outside the family circle until all had
+finished, including the youngest and most insignificant child of the
+establishment.  Then and then only did she&mdash;who among the women had
+been formerly helped immediately after the big mistress and before her
+aunt&mdash;received her portion.  It was ample and sufficing; but it was
+eaten in bitter humiliation and anguish of heart, as she realised the
+dreadful fact that this was only the beginning of a lifelong existence
+from which there could be no escape.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap23"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XXIII
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A week passed during which Pantulu's family settled back into the
+ordinary routine.  Sooba was gratified by the performance of the
+widowing ceremonies; he felt to a certain degree revenged upon his
+unfortunate nephew.  The adulation received from the visitors did
+something to restore his wounded vanity; but the disrespect shown by
+Dr. Wenaston's housekeeper was not yet atoned for; and his
+vindictiveness in that direction continued to smoulder.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A second letter arrived from Gunga asking for news of Ananda.  It
+contained a message that amounted to a parental order.  Gunga desired
+her son to come to her at once.  She suggested that by this time the
+popular feeling against him in the town would have subsided; and it
+would be quite safe for him to travel in the bullock coach which had
+taken her and her husband to their new home.  She went into further
+detail about the proposed journey, and asked that some personal
+property should be forwarded by the conveyance that brought her son.
+Sooba read the letter aloud to his wife in his perplexity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It means that my brother is worse and he wants to make one more appeal
+to his son," he commented.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will have to tell him that Ananda is dead."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall do nothing of the kind&mdash;at present.  It is strange that the
+well refuses to give up the body."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not at all, husband.  The gods have permitted the demon of the well to
+do its worst.  Perhaps one day his bones may be brought to light; but
+we shall never see his body again."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As far as we are all concerned it would be a good thing if he were
+never seen again.  It would solve the difficulty of funeral
+ceremonies," remarked Sooba complacently.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does our sister say nothing about Dorama?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Nothing at all."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If she knew she would ask for the jewels.  You have them all safe?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perfectly safe."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why not replace them in the family chest?" she asked, a touch of
+anxiety in her voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Because I choose to keep them myself."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was silent in spite of her uneasiness.  She was aware that Sooba
+had not only taken possession of the jewels, but had also appropriated
+some of the money recently paid in by the middle-men who purchased the
+produce of Pantulu's estate.  They brought rupee notes and took Sooba's
+receipt without a suspicion of anything wrong.  Sooba himself saw no
+harm in his action.  He was a little premature; but as it would all be
+his at no distant time there was nothing dishonest about it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What answer shall you send?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I shall say that we gave Ananda the punishment commanded by the swami,
+taking care not to be too severe."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was very severe all the same.  Sometimes I think that he may have
+crawled away into the jungle and died there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Chah! woman! you babble like a fool!" retorted Sooba with irritation.
+"We are speaking now of what is to be said to our sister.  In return
+for our leniency&mdash;for not having given him the full measure prescribed
+by the holy one&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The men said that it was more than&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Peace, idiot!  Let me finish what I intend to say to my sister-in-law.
+In return for our kindness he has gone off, we can't say where.  He
+tried to entice away the foolish deluded Dorama and persuade her to go
+with him; but we discovered the plan just in time to stop her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His wife was not satisfied.  She had no objection to the distortion of
+the tale.  What she feared was the discovery of the truth by Gunga.
+The story of the widow ceremony must come to her ears before many more
+days were passed; and nothing would be gained by rousing her wrath
+unnecessarily.  As long as there was a breath of life in Pantulu, Gunga
+ruled absolutely; and it was in her power to turn out Sooba and his
+wife if serious offence were given.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Leave it to me," said Sooba confidently and untroubled by any qualms
+of conscience.  "Our sister is occupied in looking after her husband.
+Her own approaching widowhood will take up the rest of her thoughts.
+We need not fear that she will make inquiry or trouble about anything
+until the end comes.  Then I in the absence of Ananda will be chief
+mourner and master of the house.  It will be your voice and not our
+sister's that will hold the attention of the zenana.  The jewels may be
+worn by you; they will become you well, wife."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was not satisfied even with this rosy dream of wealth and
+authority, and she asked uneasily:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When will you tell Gunga of her son?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In another week perhaps I may begin to break the news."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The days that followed the widowing rites passed strangely for Dorama.
+She hated her new position and inwardly revolted against it.  She
+loathed her rough garment and bare head.  The cool evening wind caught
+her behind the ears and at the back of her neck&mdash;where formerly the
+heavy strands of hair formed a covering&mdash;and gave her twinges of
+neuralgia.  She shivered and drew up the saree shawl-wise over her
+head, but it slipped down having nothing to cling to.  She missed the
+daily details of her toilet.  There was no hair to comb, and scent, and
+plait with fresh blossoms; no jewels to fasten on arm and neck.  She
+was not permitted to use any of the various cosmetics treasured in the
+brass box with its many divisions that was her own special property;
+the rouge, sandal-wood paste, saffron powder, lip-salve, henna and the
+sweet atta of rose.  The only thing allowed was the use of pure water.
+The food was good, but the mode of serving deprived her of appetite.
+By the time her turn came she was so full of misery and impatience at
+her altered circumstances, that she found no pleasure in eating the
+excellent curry prepared in the kitchen.  Alone and like a guilty thing
+she bolted her meals, sometimes shedding bitter tears as she did so.
+Even the luxury of grief was denied.  If tears were seen or a sob
+heard, she was reproved.  Did she want to bring bad luck upon the
+house? she was asked.  If a basin was broken or a pot upset, angry
+glances were directed towards her.  If the woman slicing vegetables cut
+her finger, she showed it to the widow with an injured expression, as
+much as to say: Look at the effect of having a person like you in the
+house!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her services were not urgently needed in the kitchen where many hands
+made light work; and it frequently happened to her to be ordered out of
+the room.  She wandered away in listless fashion, aware that wherever
+she went her presence would be unwelcome.  Only one spot seemed free to
+her, and this was because it was deserted by all others.  The small
+room formerly occupied by her husband was always empty, and thither she
+was drawn by memory and association.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+At first she merely sat upon the mat and brooded, looking out of the
+open door at the forest-clad mountain with eyes that saw nothing of its
+beauty in line or colour.  On the third day she noticed that the dust
+had accumulated, and that the dead jasmin blossoms remained just where
+they had fallen.  She went out into the compound and gathered a bunch
+of twigs with which she swept out the room.  In so doing she discovered
+a glove that had belonged to her husband.  She recognised it as his
+and, picking it up, she kissed it passionately.  Once, not so very long
+ago, it had been a covering to his dear hand.  He had worn it in that
+far-off smoky city of the west, and the strange scent still clung to it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When she had finished her self-appointed task, she seated herself on
+the mat to indulge in the pleasure of gloating over her treasure; and
+to devise a secure hiding place for it in the fold of her saree.  A
+dozen times it was hidden and brought out again to be fondled and gazed
+at, to be tenderly nursed like a baby on her arm.  She was startled by
+the sound of a footfall.  Hastily thrusting her treasure into her saree
+she looked up and saw Mayita.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, dear sister.  How good it is to meet again!  My brother caught
+sight of you as he walked through the compound, and he sent me to talk
+to you while he goes to the house to ask for news of your husband."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is no news," replied Dorama sadly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not yet; but there will be soon," replied Mayita confidently.  The
+child entered the room and glanced round with approval.  "You have
+swept it and made it tidy.  Does any one come here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not that I know of," replied Dorama, her hand slipping under the folds
+of her cloth to close secretly over the glove.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then it is ours for the present, ours! sister!  Think how delightful!
+Widows are not allowed to possess anything, so they say!  But listen, I
+will tell you a secret now that you are my sister.  They think I have
+nothing, nothing in this big world; but I have lots of treasures.  I am
+rich.  I have silver pots and golden cups and china dishes.  Sometimes
+they are filled with oranges and mangoes, pomegranates and mangosteens.
+I have jewels and silk sarees&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What are you talking about, child!" cried Dorama staring at her in
+astonishment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Hush, speak low, and I will show you some diamonds.  They are the
+dower of a bride in a marriage I am making."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She untied a corner of her cloth and produced some small white stones
+that she had picked up in the compound.  She chose one and lifted it
+daintily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This magnificent stone of the first water was found at Golcondah a
+thousand years ago.  It was once in the crown of a rich Maharajah.  It
+is worth twenty lacs of rupees; and if this wedding can be
+arranged&mdash;&mdash;" her brow puckered suddenly, "but things are not going
+well.  The astrologer has pronounced unfavourably on the horoscopes.
+The bride's element is water, and the bridegroom's partly air and
+partly fire.  Air and water will agree; but fire and water!&mdash;what can
+it mean unless it be misfortune?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What will you do?" asked Dorama entering into the fanciful world of
+the other with the kindly indulgence of the older woman towards the
+younger.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have paid a large sum to the astrologer.  He is a very clever
+man&mdash;oh, so wise&mdash;and he has gone to a big temple in the south to ask
+for the assistance of the gods.  I would do anything rather than
+disappoint the bridegroom.  He is so handsome, so fair, so big and
+strong!  The bride will die of grief if she is not permitted to marry
+him.  Already she is drooping and languishing because of the delay.
+Beloved sister, you must come to the wedding.  You shall be the
+bridegroom's mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A generous offer that Dorama accepted with a sad smile.  There was a
+vast gulf between the two widows.  One had never tasted the reality.
+She had only been a bride in name, and she was still able to live in
+the rosy dreams of maiden fancy.  The other had drunk the cup and
+realised every thing.  To her this make-believe was but a mockery, the
+dust and ashes of a tantalising memory.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where is the bridegroom?" asked Dorama.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mayita untied another knot in her saree and produced a wood-apple which
+she exhibited proudly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"See, isn't he well made?" she said.  "Look at his limbs.  Feel his
+smooth skin!  How tall!  how proud he is and how strong.  He will be
+the father of many sons."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you the bride as well?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She has to live with her people at present.  Her home is in the datura
+bush.  She wears a saree of pure white satin and she hangs her head
+with beautiful modesty.  Sister!"  Mayita's eyes surveyed the room with
+approval.  "We will have the wedding here.  The astrologer will soon be
+back from the south, and I am sure that his visit to the temple will
+have made matters smooth.  We shall be able to decorate the place and
+lay out the feast.  I will bring my silver pots and china dishes
+to-morrow and we will hide them behind your husband's boxes.  Oh, how
+delightful it will be!  What a wedding we will have!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mayita's eyes sparkled, and the beautiful brown tones of her skin were
+enriched as the warm blood coursed through her veins.  In spite of her
+shaven head and coarse garment, her youth and comeliness asserted
+themselves.  She babbled on about the wedding, the difficulties that
+had occurred over the dower as well as the horoscope, the number of
+guests to be invited, and other details to which Dorama listened, her
+hand over the hidden glove, her thoughts wandering back into the past
+when there was another wedding less nebulous than that of Mayita's
+devising, and she herself was the bride.  A call outside checked the
+flow of description, and Mayita rose quickly to her feet.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is my brother.  Come to the entrance of the yard while I ask him
+for news; and listen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul in the customary manner of a caste man, stood a little way off
+waiting for his sister to join him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What news of Ananda?" asked the child, stopping in the entrance and
+calling to him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They have none."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where is he?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They still speak of the well; but I do not believe that he is dead.
+Come, little one, it is time we returned."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mayita kissed Dorama.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My brother is right.  Your husband lives; but for the present you are
+his widow.  To-morrow Coomara's widow will come again.  There will be
+news by that time from the astrologer, and we shall be able to begin
+the preparations for the wedding.  Sister, those big boxes must be
+pushed aside; they will be in the way.  Do you think that we could move
+them?  We will try to-morrow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Another call from Bopaul, and Mayita beat a hasty retreat.  Dorama was
+left standing at the entrance.  The sun had disappeared in a heavy bank
+of cloud that later would be streaked with electricity.  Rain was
+wanted; there had been none for the last few days.  Her eye rested on
+the gourd that had been trampled by the inquisitive crowd.  She went to
+it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor plant!  They killed you I am afraid; but no, you are not dead!
+Here are some buds coming and fresh leaves!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She stooped over the vine and plucked away the bruised foliage leaving
+the stalks almost as bare as her own poor head.  Unlovely though the
+rough stems were they were full of virility; and the rain and sun would
+mend what was marred and reclothe the plant with verdure.  She
+straightened out a few twisted stems and lifted some leaves that had
+been trodden down but escaped total destruction.  It was a curious
+sight; the crushed tending the crushed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then she entered the room again and thought of the child.  Why should
+she not have the small pleasure of playing her little game on the
+morrow.  She looked at the two portmanteaux and considered how they
+could be moved out of the way.  They were her husband's and must be
+cared for, as they contained his clothes and books.  Of course they
+were heavy and beyond her power to move.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She gripped the handle of one and putting all her strength into the
+effort attempted to lift it.  To her astonishment it yielded with such
+ease that she nearly fell over backwards.  A cry escaped her lips as
+she dropped it.  It was empty.  She tested the weight of the other with
+the same result.  That too was empty, if she might judge by its
+lightness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The knowledge came as a shock; it was a revelation, and threw a fresh
+and unexpected light on her husband's disappearance.  If he had thrown
+himself down the well it was hardly likely that he would have taken all
+his clothes and books with him.  They would still be here.  Where they
+had gone he must have followed.  But stay! had some thief stolen the
+contents?  If so the locks would betray him.  She examined them
+closely.  They were sound and unbroken.  No sign of the hand of a thief
+was to be seen.  The boxes were properly locked and their contents had
+been removed with the owner's consent.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A great joy swept over her, lifting a dull dead weight from her heart.
+Bopaul had asserted his belief more than once that his friend still
+lived, and she had heard the assertion with very little faith.  This
+discovery altered the complexion of affairs completely and brought
+conviction.  Her husband was surely alive!  In spite of the dreadful
+bangle-breaking ceremony; in spite of the coarse clothing and shaven
+head she was not a widow.  One day he would come back to her and claim
+her for his own.  She would feel his dear arms round her again, his
+lips upon hers, his words of love would be breathed in her ears once
+more!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The joy of it all deprived her of muscular strength for the time, and
+she sank down by those rough battered trunks, leaning her arms upon
+them and laying her cheek against the stained leather.  She could have
+hugged and kissed them in her gratitude for what they had revealed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gradually her mind cleared; it seemed to have matured during the last
+few weeks and to have aged with experience.  She thought of all she had
+gone through.  First there was the bewilderment caused by his change of
+faith, which raised a barrier between him and herself, and she realised
+how intensely disappointed she was.  Then came the loss of the child
+and her sorrow.  Lastly, she had had to endure the degradation of
+widowhood which, coming as it did on the top of her loss of husband and
+child, brought her to the verge of hopeless despair.  Had it not been
+for the opportune visit of Mayita she would now be lying in the well
+where, up to the present, she had believed her husband to be.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The conviction that he was alive grew upon her as she sat there in the
+darkening room.  She drew out the glove and pressed it to her lips.  To
+all intents and purposes she was still a widow, and as such she must
+remain for the present.  As she cherished the glove and hid it, so she
+must keep her discovery a secret.  She must also guard against showing
+the new hope that had sprung up; the hope that he would return, that
+sooner or later he would seek her out and bid her come.  Could he do it
+openly?  She doubted the wisdom of such a course.  She remembered how
+they had failed in their first attempt to escape.  There must be no
+failure the second time.  She must be careful and cautious and trust to
+no one.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The more she contemplated the step she might be called upon to take at
+any moment, the more clearly she understood its seriousness.  The
+effect would be far-reaching and irretrievable.  To throw in her lot
+with her husband would mean that she would cut herself adrift from the
+family for ever.  She must be one with him, of his faith, and dead to
+all her relatives.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Was she prepared to make the sacrifice?  Yes, a thousand times, yes!
+The old spirit that had led her remote ancestresses to the funeral pile
+to die in the flames that devoured their dead husbands' bodies, rose
+strongly within her and bound her to her living husband.  For his sake
+she would endure and bear as he had endured and borne.  She would be
+ready when his summons came; and she would go gladly, even though he
+beckoned to her from the fire of adversity, that burned as fiercely as
+the flames of the old suttee funeral pile; she would join him and cling
+to him for ever!
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She lifted her head with eyes that shone, not with tears but with a new
+light.  The last vestige of the child died within her; and the woman
+who walked thoughtfully back to the zenana, as the shadow of night
+settled over the landscape, was a woman of determination and strength
+of purpose.  The baptism of sorrow had lifted her on to a higher plane,
+and had fitted her for better things than a colourless life of inert
+misery.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap24"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XXIV
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury had been travelling over his district.  As superintending
+missionary his presence was urgently needed in half a dozen places at
+once as a rule, not to teach his converts hymns, but to govern their
+temporal business and to guide their spiritual affairs, to encourage
+the faint-hearted and to shake the pastoral staff, metaphorically
+speaking, in the faces of those who showed signs of the old Adam.  They
+received his ministrations with admirable meekness and adored him all
+the more for his reproof or praise.  He loved his people in return, but
+that fact did not blind him to their weaknesses.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He journeyed in a country cart; not a luxuriously fitted bullock coach
+such as conveyed Pantulu and his wife to their destination, but a
+veritable springless vehicle of the country with a hood of matting of
+the roughest description.  At the bottom was laid a mattress.  Between
+the driver, who sat on the same plane with his feet on the pole, and
+the mattress were piled the boxes and baskets containing the
+necessaries of life required on the itinerating picnic.  They formed a
+kind of screen between the driver and the occupant of the cart.  The
+back of the hood was curtained with a piece of calico thick enough to
+keep out the sun.  The most comfortable position for the traveller
+whether journeying by night or day was to lie down at full length with
+his head towards the driver.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury usually travelled by night for various reasons.  It was
+cooler; it saved time; it was far more comfortable than sleeping at a
+village school-house, where nothing but a mat was provided.  In this
+way he arrived at his destination soon after sunrise ready to begin the
+day's work of inspection, services, surplice duties, pastoral visits
+and interviews with the native agents.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was just nine days since Ananda had disappeared.  Wenaston wrote to
+the missionary after Sooba's visit of inquiry and told him of the
+intrusion; he asked him to come on his way back and stay for a couple
+of nights or more if he could spare the time.  He thought something
+should be done in the way of inquiry after the welfare of the convert,
+even though he had definitely refused help on a former occasion.  The
+letter followed Alderbury out into the district, and found him just in
+time to allow of his carrying out Wenaston's suggestion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+From long practice in constant travelling Alderbury had learned to
+sleep fairly well in the cart, in spite of its jolts and jerks and the
+strange utterances of the driver when he occasionally woke up and spoke
+to his cattle.  On the morning when he intended to arrive at Chirapore
+he roused himself before dawn; and sitting up as well as he could he
+dressed himself with more care than usual.  He knew who would be
+waiting for him in the trellised verandah with its mantle of blue
+ipomea.  In fancy he could see the tea-table laid out and the early tea
+ready, a rack of crisp toast and the boiled eggs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There had been a shower in the night, and the air was fresh and cool.
+He jumped out at the back of the cart, without stopping the slowly
+moving cattle, and strode forward with a superabundance of that
+vitality which never seemed to fail him.  The earth smelt sweet of
+growing vegetation, and the rain had laid the dust and washed the
+foliage.  Here and there the scent from clusters of newly-opened
+blossom on the roadside trees permeated the air.  On either side of the
+way spread cultivated fields and patches of garden, for the town was
+not far off, unconfined by any visible boundary.  Pomegranate bushes
+showed vivid spots of manderin scarlet where the flower promised fruit.
+All kinds of birds twittered and whistled and chirrupped in bush and
+tree.  Noisiest of all were the barbets that never ceased their
+monotonous call.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury's eye lingered over every detail with an inborn joyousness
+that put him in sympathy with all living creatures.  The last mail from
+England had brought him news that might change the current of his life
+and bring him into new and wider fields.  It would mean harder work
+than ever; heavier responsibilities; greater liabilities that would
+leave him if anything poorer rather than richer; but he was ready for
+all and everything if&mdash;&mdash;  Ah, that little if! there was so much behind
+it.  Prudence tried to reason and urged objections that were half true
+and unproven.  Was she sufficiently in sympathy with his work, with his
+aims?  Would she be a help?  It would be fatal if she drew away and
+separated her interests from his.  The more he doubted the more blindly
+he loved and desired; the more eager he was to know his fate.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The pale rays of the sun shot up above the horizon on the east, and the
+white sheets of mist lying on the fields seemed to shiver and shrink as
+the merciless sun-god sent forth his heralds to give warning of his
+approach.  Long-legged natives wrapped in rough black blankets strode
+towards their tasks on the land, their brains still slumberous and
+their bodies still inert with sleep.  The cows and buffaloes followed
+the herdsman to the town, stopping before the doors where the milk was
+awaited for the early morning coffee.  Leisurely and without haste
+India awoke to its daily round free from the fever and fuss that marks
+the day in the west.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury had the road to himself except for a municipal cart that
+passed now and then with the load gathered from the streets in the
+night.  Behind him rumbled his own conveyance which he was out-walking
+rapidly.  The cattle had done the journey well, and he was earlier than
+he dared to hope; yet for all that his walk, was quick and impetuous as
+though he were drawn towards his goal in spite of himself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He arrived at the first house on the outskirts of the town.  It was the
+one in which Pantulu's family lived.  The household was astir and a
+group of men stood in the verandah preparing to go out on their various
+errands and duties.  From the midst burst Sooba who recognised the
+missionary although the latter was not acquainted with Pantulu's
+brother.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"May I have a word with you, sir," asked Sooba.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"With pleasure," replied Alderbury in some surprise.  He had no
+adherents in Chirapore nor in the State, and for the moment he had
+forgotten Ananda's existence.  "What can I do for you?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I wish to ask you a few questions about my nephew," said Sooba.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; but tell me first who is your nephew?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As he spoke Alderbury looked up at the house and suddenly remembered
+the visit he had paid.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course, I recollect now.  This is where Ananda lives.  How is he?
+I hope he is well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sooba glanced at the Englishman suspiciously, trying to hide his
+distrust under a forced smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My nephew sought your assistance some days ago, sir."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think you are mistaken.  I offered help but he refused it.  Since
+that time I have neither seen nor heard of him, except the fact
+mentioned by Dr. Wenaston in a letter, that he had left his home and
+that you were under the impression that he had gone to the college.  It
+was extremely kind of the Principal to allow you to go through his
+private rooms.  I am not sure that I should have been so obliging."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury's voice had unconsciously assumed a tone of reproof, and
+Sooba writhed inwardly under it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dr. Wenaston could not refuse, since a refusal would have been a tacit
+acknowledgment that he was harbouring a Christian and breaking his
+covenant with the Maharajah."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not at all," replied Alderbury sharply.  He did not like the manner of
+the man.  "You took a great liberty.  It was sufficient for all
+purposes that he assured you Ananda was not there.  What made you think
+that your nephew had gone to him for help?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The gardener gave me a hint that some one had arrived the night
+before," said Sooba sullenly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The gardener!  Ah, the man owes his mistress a grudge.  The
+housekeeper caught him stealing her roses.  So that was how he took his
+revenge, and you were foolish enough to be made the instrument."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The gardener was right in saying that a visitor had arrived in the
+night.  The woman's son, a sick soldier, came in by the mail.  I saw
+him lying in her room drunk."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where do you suppose your nephew has gone?" asked Alderbury not
+choosing to discuss Mrs. Hulver with the man.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That is what I expect you to tell me, since he has been so foolish as
+to break his caste and join a religion that is acceptable to the
+pariahs and panchamas only."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sorry I can't oblige you; good morning," said Alderbury, checking his
+rising anger with difficulty.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sooba was left standing in the road.  His eyes followed the athletic
+form of the Englishman with no good will.  He believed Alderbury when
+he declared his ignorance of Ananda's movements, because the drowning
+theory commended itself for various reasons, and because he had already
+ascertained that his nephew was not at the mission station.  Ananda
+ought to be at the bottom of the well; every circumstance pointed to
+it.  At the same time seeing the missionary on the road he thought it
+was a good opportunity of speaking to him.  At the back of his subtle
+mind was the hope that, in a chance conversation of the kind, he might
+be able to offer him some slight about which he could brag afterwards
+to his friends.  It was not necessary that Alderbury should notice and
+resent any discourtesy; it was sufficient that it should be shown; and
+it would go towards compensating the ill-conditioned man for the
+treatment he had received from Mrs. Hulver.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury knowing the Oriental suspected something of the kind, and his
+suspicion was confirmed as soon as Christianity was mentioned.  He put
+an end to the interview abruptly leaving Sooba with a sense of failure
+that did not tend to smooth matters for him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The bullocks, recognising that they were not far off their halting
+place, put on a spurt and caught up the pedestrian, who dived into the
+cart from the back and sat cross-legged on his mattress until, with
+much jangling of bells, sighing and snorting of cattle, and creaking of
+cart-wheels, he arrived under the portico of the college house.  The
+welcome he so confidently anticipated struck no note of disappointment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Three hours later breakfast was over and Wenaston had departed to take
+up his duties in the college.  Eola was interviewing Mrs. Hulver and
+settling the housekeeping programme for the day.  She was inclined to
+be absent-minded, her thoughts wandering to such an extent that she was
+guilty of ordering two joints instead of one.  Mrs. Hulver regarded
+this lapse of memory with suspicion and recalled her young mistress to
+the subject somewhat sharply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Alderbury has a dainty appetite more suitable to a bishop than a
+missionary.  He doesn't want two joints," she remarked.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Dear me! did I order two?" asked Eola in some confusion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, miss; you asked for a boiled hump of beef and a roast saddle of
+mutton.  The saddle you shall have to-morrow.  The hump is for to-night
+as it has been quite long enough in pickle.  That with the fish and
+entrées will more than satisfy Mr. Alderbury.  I don't hold with a
+daintiness above your station.  As William&mdash;that was my second&mdash;used to
+say: 'A private can't expect captain's grub, and a captain mustn't look
+for general's fare, else there'll be proud stomachs.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you ever seen a bishop?" asked Eola, feeling vaguely that she
+must throw off suspicion and show an interest in Mrs. Hulver's
+conversation.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, miss, of course I have!  Wasn't I confirmed by one?  He was tall
+and solemn and had a thin grey beard.  He reminded me somehow&mdash;it
+wasn't his legs&mdash;of a picture in my father's big family bible of the
+goat that was sent out by the Children of Israel into the wilderness."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The scape-goat that had to bear the sins of the people," said Eola,
+her eyes wandering through the house to the front verandah where she
+could see her guest in the distance absorbed in his letters.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, miss.  The bishop was just like the picture.  Hadn't he got to
+bear the sins of his people? and a very serious business it was too.
+When he confirmed me he gave me clean sheets and started me afresh; he
+took my sins on him.  I shouldn't like to be a bishop considering all
+he has to bear and wear.  The gaiters and the tights would be enough to
+put one off the job, even though the apron does lend a little decency
+to the style.  As William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say: 'All are not
+saints who go to church, or bishops and padres would have an easy time
+of it.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+During this speech Eola's attention again wandered.  Mr. Alderbury was
+still busy with his letters.  As soon as he had finished reading his
+correspondence she intended joining him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then that's all for this morning," she said, as Mrs. Hulver came to an
+end of her dissertation on church dignitaries.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You haven't ordered the pudding, miss."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She made the announcement in the same manner in which she might have
+said, "You haven't said your prayers, miss."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm so sorry.  What has cook brought?  Green mangoes?  Yes; they will
+do nicely stewed; and a custard pudding."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Custard pudding!" repeated Mrs. Hulver with disdain.  "It's the
+pudding Mr. Alderbury gets every other day of his life! and him with
+the tastes of a bishop!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I leave it to you, Mrs. Hulver.  Now let me finish with the
+accounts."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver was more vigilant than ever this morning over Ramachetty's
+charges.  Miss Wenaston was clearly not fit for the matutinal crossing
+of swords with the sharp-witted butler, and it was the housekeeper's
+duty to intervene and protect.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say: 'It's fatal to go into
+action unless you've got your wits about you and your guns are in good
+order,'" remarked Mrs. Hulver when she had checked the butler for the
+third time.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola did not see the point of her remark and Mrs. Hulver made no
+attempt to explain.  The bazaar account book was closed with relief,
+and the butler and cook dismissed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How is young William getting on?" asked Eola, preparatory to
+dismissing her housekeeper as well.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is nearly well, though I can't get the colour of his eye down
+altogether.  What his colonel will say to him to-morrow I don't know.
+He will have to be told the truth if he asks about the black eye."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He may not make any inquiries if he finds young William"&mdash;by common
+consent the adjective had been given to distinguish the son from the
+three Williams of the former generation&mdash;"doing his work properly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There are colonels and colonels, miss.  Some can put on the blinkers
+when they think fit.  Others shy and jib at everything that comes
+within sight.  Fortunately young William's complexion helps a bit, and
+the black eye doesn't show as it would if he were as fair as his
+father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then you think of sending him back to-morrow."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His leave will be up by that time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must tell my brother.  He said he would speak to him about the
+canteen and fighting."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would do him good, miss; but to tell the truth I've said pretty
+nearly all there is to be said and I haven't sounded cease firing yet."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope the scolding has not been overdone," said Eola, a wave of pity
+for young William passing through her as she thought of the lectures
+the anxious mother had already given to her erring son.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No fear, miss.  It's my chance and I haven't spared him.  I shan't see
+young William for some time to come.  I've let him have it broadside,
+in the front and in the rear.  As William&mdash;that was my third, and he
+was a gunner&mdash;used to say, 'Don't spare powder and shot if you want to
+produce a lasting impression on the enemy.'  There's one thing I want
+to ask you, miss.  Is Mr. Alderbury going on from here by his carts or
+by train?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By motor; the carts are to leave early to-morrow morning or to-night.
+The motor will be wanted after lunch to-morrow.  The chauffeur must
+spend the night at the mission bungalow and return the next day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then nothing will be needed for Mr. Alderbury's tiffin basket,"
+remarked Mrs. Hulver as though dismissing the subject since it did not
+concern her any further.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola caught sight of her guest pacing to and fro in the verandah and
+she turned away to join him.  Mrs. Hulver followed her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should be glad if you could spare me to-morrow for half a day.  I
+should like to go to the station with young William and see him off.
+He will leave by an early train so as to get in in time to report
+himself before six."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By all means take as much time as you like."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would you like to come and speak a word to young William, miss?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, please not; I really have nothing to say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It would do him good if you just said as before; 'Let it be&mdash;&mdash;'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola interrupted her hastily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, no, Mrs. Hulver; I am sure that more than enough has been said.
+Young William will be glad to get away."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then the Doctor will come and talk to him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it necessary?  Don't you think he might be let off any further
+scolding?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, miss; he has yet to face the sergeant and perhaps the colonel.
+So it isn't done with yet; and he won't be out of the firing line till
+he has reported himself and had his dressing-down."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I am sure that he must be spared anything further from us."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver's reply was to the effect that it should be as Miss
+Wenaston pleased.  Ten minutes later the housekeeper might have been
+seen, in a huge mushroom topee and with a large white umbrella,
+crossing the compound in the direction of the camping-ground chosen by
+Alderbury's driver and servant.  In the afternoon business took her to
+the town to make some purchases for young William, she explained to
+Ramachetty.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap25"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XXV
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How have you been getting on lately?" asked Eola as she sank into a
+cane lounge in the verandah.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury stopped in his perambulation, gathered up a number of letters
+lying on the table where the tea was usually spread and made them into
+a neat packet.  None of them required an immediate answer; they could
+all wait until he reached home.  He intended to make the most of his
+one day's holiday.  He had the whole morning before him; Wenaston was
+engaged till lunch, and Eola presumably had nothing to do but entertain
+her guest.  It was a pleasant prospect, and he was conscious of a sense
+of luxury that did not often enter his life.  He revelled in the
+unwonted leisure of the hour and took his time to reply.  He seated
+himself in a chair by her side, and half turned so that he might have a
+full view of her face against the green creeper-covered trellis that
+shut in the end of the verandah.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have a fair share of trouble balanced by some satisfaction."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Converts been doing anything very naughty lately?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He laughed in kindly fashion.  In his large sympathetic soul he held
+his people dear, from the blackest little ball of a baby brought to him
+for baptism to the white-haired old woman; who persisted in calling him
+father though she was twice his age.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is rather like having a very large nursery or school of children,"
+he said.  "Some of them are so good and others&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are up to tricks," Eola concluded for him.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Only between us confidentially."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They both laughed in a way that showed a mutual understanding and not a
+little sympathy on the part of the woman, not so much for his work as
+for himself personally.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do tell me their latest," she said softly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is not for publication.  On your honour you won't give me and my
+people away to a missionary magazine?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I promise."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let me whisper my troubles in your ear, then.  I have had a bother
+over a bell tower.  Four months ago I sent five hundred rupees that I
+had collected for the purpose to the native pastor in charge of the
+little church at Ramapet; and I solemnly enjoined on him by letter the
+necessity of beginning the building of the tower at once.  I have been
+to see it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have found that they have put up a glorified steeple, I suppose,
+costing twice as much as the sum you sent."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wrong, dear lady, entirely wrong!  The bell tower surrounds the
+property on which the church stands in the form of a wall; and in the
+corner of the compound is a new well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What has become of the bell?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is there safe enough; oh, yes, and it rings all right.  The church
+council composed of the most important of the native parishioners met
+me and pointed out how wise they had been, as wise as serpents to use
+their own expression.  The church compound is already under cultivation
+and the water will not only produce a crop, I should say rather, two
+crops in the year, but will also be a source of income as it is
+purchased by the villagers at so much a bucket.  They are all delighted
+with themselves for their cleverness.  The bell-tower, they say, will
+come all in good time.  Meanwhile they have erected a little shelter of
+mats and bamboos in a peepul tree and have hung the bell there."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did you say?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I had to disapprove and point out that it was a breach of faith and a
+misappropriation of funds."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Was the wall needed?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Badly!  Nothing could be done with the land to make it productive
+until we had an effective barrier to keep out the buffaloes and goats."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then really it is a most excellent move."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not at all!  Don't you see that there are principles involved?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They should have asked your consent, you mean, to the temporary
+deflection of the money?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should never have given it!  They knew it and took good care not to
+let me into the secret.  What am I to do, pray?  Where is my bell-tower
+to come from?  It will take two or three years before they can refund
+the money.  Some of it was given by an enthusiastic lover of bells, who
+was charmed with the idea of assisting to build the tower.  Bells, he
+declared, were missionaries themselves and exercised a Christianising
+influence.  What am I to say to him?  He won't see any Christianising
+influence in the well and the wall."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He sat up in his long armed chair and gazed at Eola with comic concern.
+It made her laugh.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My sympathies are all with the builders of the wall.  I know how I
+felt towards the buffaloes and goats before the wall round this
+compound was completed.  After all the bell does very well for the
+present in the peepul tree."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your morals are hopelessly inferior&mdash;I won't say bad&mdash;and you would
+make a very weak mission agent," he said, shaking his head over her
+shortcomings.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Should I?  Then I mustn't marry a missionary.  Think how awful it
+would be if while he was away preaching to the heathen, I remained at
+home encouraging his converts to misappropriate the mission funds."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He would have to take you with him; it wouldn't be safe to leave you
+behind."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They both laughed; then he became serious again.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But I say, really, joking apart; you know they have put me into no end
+of a difficulty by their cleverness, and I am at my wits' end to think
+how I am to rectify it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know!" cried Eola, with a sudden inspiration.  "Haven't you any
+other funds in hand from which you could borrow and get the tower built
+at once?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He jumped to his feet as was his way when excited and strode up and
+down the verandah.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are every bit as bad as my people!  That's the very thing they
+have done and which I am deprecating; and you suggest that I should
+follow their example.  I can see that I have a duty to perform.  I must
+take you in hand and convert you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He stopped in front of her and let his eyes rest upon her abundant hair.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Try," she said, looking up at him with shining eyes in which amusement
+mingled with something else.  "Do try; I should like to see what your
+method would be."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Would you?" he replied.  "You might not like it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is it the same as you apply to the heathen?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not exactly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her eyes lowered before his, and she was seized with a sudden anxiety
+to direct the conversation into a fresh channel.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sit down, Mr. Alderbury, and tell me more about your converts," she
+said hastily.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very well, I will defer the conversion till a more suitable time and
+talk&mdash;of marriage."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Again she was startled.  She glanced at him as he dropped into the seat
+he had vacated so abruptly.  His self-possession was in no way
+disturbed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Marriage!" she repeated as the colour mounted.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He revelled in her sweet confusion; but had mercy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; the marriage of one of my converts.  A young man in the
+agricultural settlement wants to marry the daughter of a distant
+relative.  The girl is still a heathen.  Of course I had to say no, and
+counsel patience.  We don't allow mixed marriages.  I left him rather
+sad, as he knows the girl and is attached to her.  Being pariahs they
+have been allowed to see something of each other."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, poor fellow!  Is she fond of him?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; I think so; as far as a modest Hindu maid may permit herself to
+be."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then they ought to be married; and I think it is very horrid of you to
+forbid the wedding."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The girl must become a Christian first; then the wedding bells shall
+be rung and the feast prepared; but not till then."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But supposing she won't become a Christian, what then?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The marriage can't take place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Poor lovers!  What a shame!  You are hard on them!  Why shouldn't the
+girl marry first and be converted afterwards?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That would never do.  I always begin with conversion;" he looked at
+her and paused with half a smile; then he added: "Marriage must follow
+conversion."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, must it!" she replied with a challenge in her voice.  "You take a
+good deal for granted."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A common fault with men of my profession, I fear," he replied with a
+decision that had its attraction.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you never disappointed?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a slight pause.  His reply was spoken in a different tone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In the matter of bell towers, yes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury sat down again, and Eola with half averted face looked out
+into the sunlit compound where the brilliant colours of the geraniums
+and bignonia creeper contrasted strongly with the pure snow white of
+the eucharis lilies; where butterflies that rivalled the flowers in
+tint fluttered like wind-driven petals across her vision, and the sweet
+scent of the <I>La France</I> roses came in on the warm morning air.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Now tell me about Ananda," said Alderbury recalling her thoughts.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know very little about him.  My information has come from Mrs.
+Hulver who picks up gossip in the bazaar.  You had better hear the
+story from her first hand.  I will send for her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A message was taken by the butler who met the housekeeper as she
+returned from her walk in the compound.  She went into her room to
+remove the mushroom hat and dispose of her umbrella; and she took the
+opportunity of telling young William that she had made arrangements for
+him to leave at daybreak the following morning.  She entered the front
+verandah, keen inquiry in her eye as to the reason of her call.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Were you wishing to have a few words with my son, sir?  If so, I
+should be pleased if you could come in half an hour.  He is just going
+to have his bath.  A dressing-down from your point of view will be very
+good for him.  As William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say: 'Don't
+confine yourself to big guns in dealing with an enemy.  Bullets speak
+quite as plainly as cannon balls though they are neither so big nor so
+noisy.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't think your son wants any lecturing from me.  No doubt he is
+fully repentant after all that has happened.  Dr. Wenaston told me the
+story of his fight, and I am sure young William will keep away from the
+canteen in future," said Alderbury kindly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He will try, sir; I know that; but canteens draw very strongly at
+times.  There's the smell to contend with as well as the open door.  As
+William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say: 'An open door will tempt a
+saint.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want you to tell me all you know and have heard about Ananda.  Sit
+down, Mrs. Hulver," he said, giving her a chair.  "I don't see why you
+should stand.  Let us have a comfortable chat whilst we are about it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He noted the cloud of anxiety that seemed to overshadow her usually
+placid face and put it down to trouble over her son.  Her words
+confirmed his suspicion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To tell you the truth, sir, I have had no time to consider Mr. Ananda.
+I have been so worried by young William's conduct."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You mustn't think too much about it.  You can't expect everybody to be
+a saint."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't, sir, and least of all young William from the way he has
+begun&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What did you hear of Ananda in the bazaar?" asked Alderbury
+interrupting her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"As far as I can recollect the family ill-treated him, knocked him
+about with a stick and he ran away.  They didn't like his turning
+Christian.  As William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say: 'What women
+haven't got to answer for, you may safely put down to religion.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was supposed that he was in hiding somewhere on the college
+premises.  It seems the gardener heard of the arrival of your son and
+thought it was Ananda."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The gardener?" said Mrs. Hulver puckering her brow.  "So we may thank
+him for that budmash's visit.  I shall have to remember that."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She thought of the roses and felt that the man had got even with her
+after all; but she kept her thoughts to herself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In coming here he was taking a great liberty, I admit; but it was as
+well that he should satisfy himself that Ananda was not on the
+premises."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I should never have allowed him to go through my rooms if the master
+hadn't given him permission.  As it was I had to submit; but I didn't
+like it with young William lying there and the fever still on him.  As
+William&mdash;that was my first&mdash;used to say: 'Orders is orders when spoken
+by a superior.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Have you heard any spot mentioned as likely to be a hiding-place?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There have been all sort of rumours, sir.  They said at first that he
+had gone to you; but a messenger was sent to your house to inquire; and
+as nothing had been seen of him there they changed their minds.  I
+don't wonder at his running away if they really did illtreat him.  As
+William&mdash;that was my second&mdash;used to say: 'Distance is the best remedy
+against the spite of evil men.'  You never saw such an evil-looking
+beast as that uncle was who came poking his nose into everything here.
+If young William had been himself and not so ashamed of his black eye
+he would have upped and at him and soon had him out.  I think the man
+himself was afraid that something of the sort might happen.  As
+William&mdash;that was my first&mdash;used to say when his relations came to stay
+without an invitation: 'Uninvited guests sit on thorns.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When they discovered that Ananda was not at my house what was the next
+suspicion of the family?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That he had drowned himself in the well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What gave rise to that notion?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They found his cap in the well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But not his body?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, sir; all the same his people believe that he is drowned and they
+have widowed his wife I am told.  I can't answer for the truth of what
+I hear in the bazaar.  As William&mdash;that was my first&mdash;used to say: 'An
+Indian bazaar is a nest in which many rotten eggs are laid.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You were very kind to Mr. Ananda, Mrs. Hulver," remarked Eola.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My kindness was of the fair weather sort.  I gave him food and plenty
+of good advice, before master put it in orders that no help of any sort
+was to be found in this house.  Mr. Ananda ate heartily and listened
+politely; but he didn't take my advice soon enough.  As William&mdash;that
+was my second&mdash;used to say: 'The man who stops in the valley will never
+get over the hill.'  I keep telling young William these sort of things.
+I hope some of them, specially about drink and fighting, will stay by
+him.  As William, his father used to say: 'The way to promotion doesn't
+lie through the canteen door.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you should by chance find means of communicating with Ananda&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And him down the well, sir!  Why, it's more than a week&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you believe that he drowned himself, Mrs. Hulver?" asked Alderbury,
+his eyes fixed upon her round smooth face that held very little
+expression but general good-nature towards the whole world.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, sir!  There's his widow!  A widow is usually the sure sign of a
+man's death; though I have heard of the widow's weeds being put on too
+soon.  That was the case of a woman in our regiment whose husband was
+seconded for service in Africa.  He was reported killed; and just as
+she was getting over her trouble and was cheering up a bit, owing to
+one of the unmarried sergeants paying her a little attention, he came
+back.  She had to go into colours again before the black was half wore
+out, an expense all for nothing that she could ill afford, poor thing!
+But as William&mdash;that was my second&mdash;used to say: 'There's no plumbing
+the depths of a man's folly when he's a fool.'  He should have written
+and told her that he wasn't dead; but that meant sending her money.
+Perhaps Mr. Ananda may come back one day like Sergeant Thompson."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His uncle stopped me on my way here to ask if I knew anything of him.
+I could give him no information, and I take it that you can't help any
+more than I can."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's so right enough, and if you see the budmash again you may tell
+him that his precious nephew's whereabouts has nothing to do with me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Possibly; but as Mr. Ananda belongs to our faith, I certainly think
+that his welfare has a great deal to do with me," said Alderbury with a
+touch of severity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course, sir; it's only right; it's your profession to look after
+the converts.  My business is housekeeping; and if the Christmas turkey
+was missing from the larder I should be in even more of a taking than
+you are over Mr. Ananda.  As William&mdash;that was my first&mdash;used to say:
+'Mind your own business and leave others to mind theirs.'  You are
+leaving us to-morrow, sir, I understand.  I've seen your men; they want
+to start off to-night with the cart if you have no objection.  The
+portmanteau you are using will go on the motor.  This will give them
+time to get to the mission-station before you arrive.  I told your
+servant that I thought he could be spared."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By all means let them go if they wish.  We shall all be glad to get
+home as we have been on a longer round than usual this time."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, sir; as William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say, when he got
+safely back after leaning a little too far in the canteen direction:
+'There's no place like home, even though it's only a pigsty, Maria, me
+dear,' that was his way of speaking, he was such a gentleman in his
+manners."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My house is not a pigsty, Mrs. Hulver," protested Alderbury, while
+Eola's eyes twinkled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm not saying that it is, though there's no woman in it.  As
+William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say: 'A house without a woman is
+only a house; it can never be called a home, however clever the man may
+be.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is a fault that may be easily remedied," responded Alderbury.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver glanced at him suspiciously, and then let her eyes rest
+upon Eola.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If you were a bishop you might say so, sir; but you're not a bishop,
+and begging your pardon for saying so, you're not likely to be if I may
+judge by your legs.  Gaiters would be impossible for you, even though
+you let your apron down a good four inches.  As William&mdash;that was my
+second and as soldierly-looking man as ever stepped&mdash;used to say: 'It
+isn't every figure that will fit every profession.'  I may tell you,
+sir, that by reason of my fullness of figure I was never chosen when I
+was young for the leading fairy in the regimental pantomime at
+Christmas.  I was given to fullness early; but excepting in the matter
+at the pantomime I never felt any inconvenience from being stout.  My
+husbands all admired stout women, and they said one after the other
+that fat in a woman may make her short in the breath, but it keeps her
+smiling.  Now you're given the other way and you've got just the figure
+for a missionary."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And so missionary I am to remain, eh, Mrs. Hulver?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There's great virtue in knowing your place and your station, sir,"
+responded Mrs. Hulver, feeling that she was having the opportunity of
+her life to give the ineligible a bit of her mind.  "One day you will
+meet a lady, suitable for a missionary's wife; and though she may dress
+plain, she will soon turn your house into a home with curtains and
+carpets and decent house-linen.  She must be a good housekeeper."  Mrs.
+Hulver again let her eyes rest on Eola as though she were taking the
+measure of her shortcomings in that respect.  "And she must be sharp as
+a needle with the butler over the house accounts."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"If I am ever a bishop, Mrs. Hulver, I suppose I need not be so rigid
+over the housekeeping qualities of my wife.  A bishop usually has a
+housekeeper."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lor, sir, how you talk!  As if that would ever come to pass!  But as
+William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say: 'Many people talk like
+generals but have to live like privates.'  There's no harm in your
+talking of being a bishop as long as you're content to live like a
+missionary.  I must be going; I have a lot to do."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She bustled away, and with her went the smile that had rested on
+Alderbury's face.  Eola watching him noted the change.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What is it?" she asked.  "You are troubled.  Are you thinking of
+Ananda?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; and I am blaming myself," he replied quickly.  "There is so much
+I might have done to prevent this catastrophe if I had come when your
+brother called me.  Instead of coming I wrote.  It was not enough."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't believe in a catastrophe.  I don't believe that he is dead; I
+am sure Mrs. Hulver doesn't believe it or she would not be so
+indifferent.  What do you fear?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That they have killed him between them."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They would not dare!  That would be murder and they would fear the
+penalty."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Unfortunately there is no penalty in the case of an outcaste, a
+convert to Christianity.  There might be some sort of a trial, but no
+judge in the State of Chirapore would do more than impose a slight
+punishment."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Come into the fernery and look at my palms and lilies," she said,
+rising to get her hat.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She succeeded in dispersing the anxiety that had settled down upon him
+as he considered Ananda's case; and once more the convert was
+forgotten.  Her hands were buried in the fronds of a maidenhair when he
+said suddenly:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't do that; it isn't safe; there might be a snake hidden in the
+fern."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She laughed, but did not move her hands.  Then he took them in his and
+drew her away from the pot where he feared danger might lurk.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Eola, will you come and make my house a home for me?  I want you; I
+can't live without you," he concluded with a strong man's passion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She looked up at him suddenly serious.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Think how far I fall short of the ideal!  I&mdash;&mdash;  Oh, really you are
+the most masterful man I ever met.  Mr. Alderbury&mdash;&mdash;!"  And then her
+head dropped and she surrendered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you converted to my way of thinking," he said at last.  "Or, shall
+I continue my arguments?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am quite converted; quite!" she replied, and her eyes shone.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I may tell you a secret.  Whatever my figure may be in Mrs.
+Hulver's opinion, the gaiters and apron are looming in the distance.  I
+heard from England by the last mail that I have been nominated for a
+colonial bishopric;" and he named the diocese.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What fun it will be to see the dear old woman's face when she hears of
+it!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+He drew her down to a seat among the ferns.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Never mind the old woman.  I want the whole of your attention.  There
+is so much to talk about and we have only till to-morrow," he said,
+already grudging the moments.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Anyway my conversion is complete."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Oh, is it?  I am not so sure of that.  At any rate I will see that
+nothing is left undone to make it so!"
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap26"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XXVI
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Lunch was over; the car stood under the portico breathing gently like a
+tamed and willing monster held in a metal leash.  Alderbury, ready to
+start, was inclined to yield to a new temptation and linger in his
+leave-taking.  Wenaston politely stayed to see his guest off under the
+mistaken impression that it was a necessary courtesy.  At the same time
+his ear was open for the sound of the school bell.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am sorry that you have not succeeded in the object of your visit,"
+he remarked, his conscience still troubling him in the matter of the
+'vert.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury and Eola exchanged glances with an amused twinkle of the eye.
+If there had been failure on one point, on another the missionary had
+achieved a marked success.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We must leave it alone for the present," he said with a seriousness
+that was not assumed.  "When you are confronted with caste, you stand
+before invincible plates of steel.  To beat against them violently does
+more harm than good.  We must wait for the doors to open of themselves.
+There can be no forcing them open."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I hope the poor fellow is safe."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And I hope and pray that he is standing firm in the new faith,"
+responded Alderbury quickly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I used to think that Ananda was weak in character."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Possibly he was; but after all that he has gone through his character
+must have strengthened marvellously.  I have known similar cases,
+although not among the higher castes.  The fervent religious instinct
+of the Hindu sustains him in circumstances where a less religious
+temperament would give way."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You believe that he is under his father's roof?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"From what I gathered yesterday afternoon in my inquiry of the town's
+people, I feel sure that he has not been allowed to leave the place."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is he safe?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The question was asked with an anxiety the Principal could not hide.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah! that I cannot undertake to say.  All the same I have a strong hope
+that beyond petty persecution he is, comparatively speaking, safe.  My
+hope originates with Bopaul.  His manner gave me confidence.  I met him
+in the town; he spoke openly of his friend's disappearance, and seemed
+in no way concerned about it.  He laughed at the theory of suicide.  If
+he had any suspicion of a tragedy he would not show such indifference.
+I know for a fact that he is very much attached to Ananda."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They were together in England and they both felt Coomara's death.  I
+was with them at the time, if you remember.  The accident was a great
+shock to us all, and my nerves are not what they used to be.  The
+person least affected was Bopaul apparently," said Wenaston.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We don't know how it affected him; he has a peculiar nature, and hides
+his real sentiments under a careless flippancy which his actions
+frequently belie."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He certainly is a strange mixture of incorruptible orthodoxy and
+modern tolerance," assented Wenaston.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury commented tersely and incisively on the new Hinduism of the
+Presidency towns, and compared it with the old-fashioned bigotry to be
+found up-country, where there was less European influence than in the
+great educational centres.  Native states with their native officials
+were even still further behind than British India, opposing religious
+reform with strong prejudiced conservatism.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose you welcome this new tolerance as a step in the right
+direction."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not at all," exclaimed Alderbury, his fighting instinct roused.  "It
+is more difficult to attack than the old intolerance; it is elusive,
+shifty, the outcome of the Brahmanical facility of adaptation which is
+the invariable resource of the Hindu philosopher in every religious
+innovation.  I would rather come to blows with the fanatical old
+Brahman than with one of these modern men whose policy is to agree with
+reservation."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So you turn to the untouchables."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who form a sixth of India's population.  They offer us a wide field
+for our energies," replied Alderbury.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are wise to give the caste people the go-by."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The missionary was up in arms at once at the implication that he turned
+his back on any one.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Excuse me!  We don't give them the go-by.  We are ready watching for
+the moment when the thin edge of the wedge may be inserted without
+bringing disaster upon them and ourselves.  By the by, an odd thing
+happened yesterday.  Bopaul to my astonishment asked me if I would
+befriend his sister, the widow of the man who was killed in the railway
+accident."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Coomara!  I had forgotten that he married Bopaul's sister."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was no more than a betrothal.  Bopaul explained that his sister was
+not happy at home; and that it would be a relief to the whole family,
+in his opinion, if she were removed.  Then he laughed as though the
+attitude of his relations amused him.  He proposed that she should be
+placed in our mission school."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Does the family consent?" asked Wenaston in some surprise; for no one
+understood the prejudices of the high caste families of Chirapore
+better than himself.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Apparently his parents are too indifferent to the widow's fate to care
+whether she throws herself down the well or disappears off the scenes
+in any other way.  I told him to speak to his people about it; and if
+they consented I would willingly take her."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The school bell rang and Wenaston rose from his chair.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I must be off.  Good-bye, Alderbury," exclaimed Wenaston.  "Come again
+as soon as you can; a warm welcome will be ready for you."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The hand-clasp expressed even more than the tongue, as the two friends
+parted with the knowledge that before long a closer and more intimate
+tie would be forged to bind them together.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Five minutes later Alderbury stood on the steps of the verandah ready
+to enter the car.  He turned to Eola once more.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I haven't said good-bye to Mrs. Hulver.  Have you told her our news?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not yet; she has been too much occupied with her son to think of
+anything else.  She was to go off early this morning with young
+William; and she asked me not to expect her back till this evening.  I
+might have let her into the secret last night; but I heard after dinner
+that she had gone to bed."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.  I am sure that
+she will forbid the banns," he replied in comical concern that did not
+deceive Eola.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She will quote the wisdom of the three departed Williams in support of
+her action," she added, and her laugh had a new ring of happiness in it.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The car slid noiselessly down the drive and turned into the great
+southern road.  Alderbury leaned back on its cushions luxuriously, his
+thoughts busy with the woman he had just left.  He had been lifted
+along on the wings of destiny.  He had come to Chirapore to hold out a
+helping hand to a fellow creature in distress, and had found his own
+happiness as a reward.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Having taken the step he was of too strong a character to entertain any
+doubt as to its wisdom.  However short she might fall of the ideal
+missionary's wife, she was his desire and he was hers.  This new
+knowledge and certainty lifted him into a sphere of joy he had never
+before touched.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+After a few minutes indulgence in purely selfish dreams, Eola with all
+she meant for him was put resolutely aside.  He took out the bundle of
+letters that awaited him at the college house and proceeded to read
+them afresh, making notes of the replies on the envelopes.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The car moved along the smooth road at a moderate pace.  Now and then
+the eyes of the occupant ranged over the undulating landscape, resting
+with appreciation on the patches of green forest covering the crests of
+the hills, and the stretches of rice fields interspersed with
+plantations of areca-nut palms in the valleys.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Few travellers were on the road.  A string of country carts crept
+slowly towards the town, bearing the produce of the rich smiling land
+to market.  The car shot by with a deep hum that set the wild-eyed
+bullocks snorting and backing under their yokes; and transformed the
+drivers into kicking fiends.  In vain they sought to inspire the
+terrified cattle with courage and confidence by a liberal application
+of the toe.  It was not until the car disappeared in the distance, and
+its weird hum was lost to the ear that the bullocks were recalled to
+order and a sense of duty, and the drivers were able to drop back into
+idle clucking at their beasts.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Six miles of quiet travelling came to an abrupt end.  The native
+chauffeur pulled up at a signal from a traveller on the road, walking
+in the same direction as the car was moving.  Alderbury, who was
+absorbed in the composition of a letter to the head office of his
+society, looked up, and to his amazement recognised Bopaul.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am going to ask you a great favour, sir," said the latter after the
+exchange of greetings.  "I have my sister here.  Will you be so good as
+to give her a seat in the car; and to take her to your mission-station?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury glanced beyond the speaker and caught sight of the shrinking
+figure of the widow.  Her saree was drawn over her bald head to hide
+the mark of shame and disgrace.  Her eyes were cast down, and the hand
+that grasped the coarse cloth to keep it in position trembled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Of course you take the responsibility upon yourself, Bopaul," said
+Alderbury looking at the girl with pity born of an intimate knowledge
+of what widowhood meant for one so young.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Certainly, sir," responded Bopaul quickly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She will be at perfect liberty to return if the family desire it.  It
+does our work no good to have even the semblance of abduction."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You need have no fear of trouble, sir.  My people will make no
+objection whatever.  If her husband were alive it would be quite
+another matter; but with a widow!" he smiled with gentle cynicism,
+"whoever heard of any regret being felt at the absence or even the
+death of a Hindu widow?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Very well; I will take your word for it that all is well, and that I
+am only carrying out the general wish of the family.  Let her get in
+the car at once, as I must be going on my way, or I shall be benighted."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She will sit by the chauffeur."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There is plenty of room inside," said Alderbury, pushing cushions and
+rug into some order.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul went to the side of the road where his sister stood and said a
+few words in a low tone.  She did not reply, but made a movement of the
+head showing that she understood his directions.  Then he took her by
+the hand and led her to the car.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Get in, little sister.  You will be quite safe with the missionary;
+and if you are not happy with him, ask him to write and tell me so.  I
+will come myself and fetch you back, but I know you will not want to
+come back; you will find your happiness there; not here."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is understood by your family that she will probably become a
+Christian if she remains with us," said Alderbury who was a little
+puzzled by Bopaul's manner.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She is at liberty to do as she pleases.  Of one thing I can assure
+you; I can answer for her willingness to work at anything that will
+help to earn her keep."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And her name?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I call her Mayita; but she will probably prefer to be called by some
+other name when she enters the mission," replied Bopaul with another
+smile.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She has no luggage of any kind, no bundle of clothes?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Widows own nothing.  They are deprived of every possession in the
+world.  Even their hair is taken from them," her brother answered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+During this conversation Mayita sat silent with her head bent and the
+saree veiling her face.  Suddenly the cloth was pushed backwards and
+she leaned towards Bopaul both hands extended.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Brother, may the gods reward you for your goodness to the poor widow!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good-bye little sister.  Take heart and be brave.  Now go, sir, and
+believe me that all will be well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The car glided forward and left Bopaul standing there.  He watched it
+until nothing was visible but the cloud of soft dust that hung like
+smoke in the warm air of the afternoon.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Then he turned round and set off at a steady pace homewards.  Again the
+characteristic smile appeared and he murmured to himself:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In the name of friendship; not in the name of religion!"
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap27"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XXVII
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury addressed a few words to his companion in the language of the
+country and received monosyllabic replies which gave him no
+encouragement to persevere in his efforts at making conversation or to
+extract information.  He concluded that she was a shy and frightened
+member of a zenana where very little liberty was allowed.  It would all
+come right in time; she would lose the shy self-consciousness with
+education.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+From his companion his thoughts went to her brother.  He distrusted
+Bopaul's cynicism, mild and harmless though it might be; but he could
+not help admiring the force of character in the man who had struck
+whilst the iron was hot.  If Bopaul had not handed her over personally
+and assured him that all was well, Alderbury would never have ventured
+to take the girl away.  The parents had probably been urged to give a
+consent, and before they could withdraw it their son had taken action
+to carry out the intention.  It was evident that he revolted against
+the Hindu system of widowhood, and with his modern enlightenment
+desired reform.  This was his method of protest and it was to be
+commended.  It was also in its way a mark of the philanthropy that is
+entering the Hinduism of the present day, one of the attributes of
+Christianity which Brahmanism is ready to adopt into its system and
+claim as its own.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+More than two hours passed during which Mayita, shrouded in her saree,
+nestled in the corner of the big motor car.  Alderbury returned to the
+perusal of his letters and forgot her very existence.  So still and
+silent was she that she might have been one of the leather cushions
+instead of a human waif.  They passed the boundary of the native State
+and sped through British territory.  In another half hour they entered
+the little town that had been Christianised.  Alderbury put away his
+letters and kept his eyes on the road, that he might not miss the
+smiles and nods of the villagers as they welcomed him back.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The mission house was a large rambling bungalow with thatched roof and
+wide verandahs.  In the same compound stood the school and orphanage.
+At a little distance was the church shining with marble whiteness in
+the afternoon sun.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As the car drew up under a porch made of rough square stone pillars and
+palm-leaf roof, Alderbury thought of the handsome portico of the
+college house, a very different building.  He jumped out of the car
+with his habitual impetuosity forgetting his companion.  Mrs. Hulver's
+words were in his mind.  A house without a woman was only a house.  It
+was quite true although his careful servant had not forgotten to
+prepare a late afternoon tea.  He noted the table set in the verandah
+with the earthen tea-pot and the thick cups that bore the mark of many
+camping expeditions through his district.  Very different, was the
+table from the dainty arrangement in another verandah, where the figure
+of the tea-maker was set in a background of ipomea and bignonia.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Bring tea quickly, boy," he said as he passed on towards his
+sitting-room in search of the letters that should have come by the
+morning post.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The servant glanced after him and then held up his hand to arrest the
+figure that followed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wait, lady, until the master calls," he said respectfully; and Mayita
+stood listening and trembling in the verandah.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+As Alderbury entered his sitting-room a man rose from a chair and
+advanced to meet him.  He was dressed in European clothes although he
+was a Hindu.  Over his eye was a recently healed wound.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ananda!" cried Alderbury, astonished beyond measure.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The same, sir," was the reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did you get here?  We made so sure of your being still under your
+father's roof that I can scarcely believe my eyes."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By the help of friends.  It is a long story&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His words were checked by the sound of a cry.  The widow refusing to be
+detained any longer by the servant, rushed forward past Alderbury,
+never stopping till she had fallen at Ananda's feet.  In a moment he
+was on his knees by her side forgetful of the missionary and all else.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My wife! my pearl! my beloved!  How did you manage to escape? how did
+you get here?  But what have they done to you my beautiful lotus?  They
+have cut off your hair! and this cloth! what does it mean?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The words poured from his lips with a string of eager questions which
+Dorama could only answer with sobs.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who do you say this woman is?" demanded Alderbury in some bewilderment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She is Dorama, my wife, sir!  And see what they have done to her, poor
+child!  Not content with nearly beating the life out of me they have
+widowed her! the brutes!  This is my uncle's doing.  I will be even
+with him.  He shall answer for it with his life!  I will kill him as he
+would have killed me; and I will widow his&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Gently, Ananda!  The Hindu in you dies hard.  You do well to be angry,
+but don't mistake anger for revenge."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The hand that was laid upon his shoulder held in check the tempestuous
+wrath.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Forgive me, sir.  Wrong done against myself I can forgive&mdash;but this!"
+He looked down at his wife.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They believed that you had drowned yourself, so successfully have you
+been hidden," said Alderbury.  "And they considered themselves
+justified in their action."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda lifted his drooping, but happy, wife to her feet and kept his
+arm about her.  His anger melted and he forgot his wrath in the
+consciousness of her presence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How did she come here," he asked in calmer tones.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I brought her," replied Alderbury.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You, sir," repeated Ananda in surprise.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes; your friend Bopaul must have interested himself in your affairs;
+for it was he who met me on the road this afternoon and begged me to
+take his widowed sister to the mission house and keep her there.  He
+deceived me and took me in completely."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A smile dispersed the frown of anger that had rested on Ananda's face.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, the clever Bopaul!  It was well planned.  He is a friend worth
+having!" he said warmly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm afraid he is&mdash;a&mdash;a perverter of the truth!" blurted out the
+missionary.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A splendid liar!" agreed Ananda enthusiastically.  "I know of no one
+better.  It is a great accomplishment in a Hindu to lie usefully and
+successfully."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"But it is altogether wrong in a Christian."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I know it is!" replied the 'vert with a sigh of contrition.  "I am
+afraid I have not been altogether straightforward myself of late."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell me all about yourself and how you managed to escape," said
+Alderbury kindly, knowing that it would be best for him to talk it out
+instead of brooding over his wrongs, and perhaps being incited by his
+wife to further ill-will in considering the persecution she had endured
+for his sake.  "When did you arrive?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+They seated themselves, Ananda retaining his hold on his wife as though
+he still feared lest she should be snatched away from him again.  She
+sank upon the floor at his feet, resting an arm upon his knee with a
+comfortable sense of security which went towards compensating her for
+some of the unhappiness that had lately fallen to her lot.  Alderbury
+called for the tea to be brought into his sitting-room.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I arrived this morning."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"By train?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, sir; I came by bullock cart.  Let me tell you the story from the
+beginning.  After your call at my father's house I was allowed to see
+my wife in the presence of the guru, who paid us a visit to inquire why
+the restitution ceremonies had not been performed.  He tried to come
+between myself and my wife; but I was determined not to permit anything
+of the kind.  Our interview was not pleasant.  After it was over, and I
+had returned to my room I resolved to put an end to the uncomfortable
+state of affairs and leave my father's house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You were right in your intention."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I made a mistake in not accepting your offer of help, sir.  It was an
+error of judgment.  My intention was to right my own battle without
+assistance."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I understand; but how did you ultimately get away?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I was to all intents and purposes a prisoner in the house, and escape
+was no easy matter.  I found a friend in the pariah I despised so much.
+By his advice I made the contents of my boxes into bundles and he
+undertook to take them to Biddapet, a station about ten miles out of
+Chirapore in this direction.  I was coming here, of course.  The
+luggage was gone and I was spending what I hoped was my last night in
+that miserable little room when I was awakened by a touch on my hand.
+It was my wife.  She came to me in great distress to tell me that our
+son was dead."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a pause which Alderbury did not break.  Ananda went on with
+his story.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I persuaded her to throw in her lot with mine.  It was a long walk to
+Biddapet, but she thought she could manage it if I gave her time.  We
+started off before it was light and reached the wall of the compound.
+Unfortunately we disturbed a pariah dog.  It barked and I threw a stone
+at it.  It shrieked and the noise must have been heard in the house;
+for we were followed by our uncle and four other members of the family.
+They caught us up and we were powerless in their hands.  There was
+nothing to be done but to go back, which we did; and when we reached
+the house my wife and I were again separated.  That night I was
+severely beaten; and during the frightful ordeal my uncle never ceased
+to call upon me to recant.  How I lived through it I don't know.  God
+in his goodness gave me strength to bear the pain and to hold fast to
+Christ.  I did not take my punishment with the meekness of the Great
+Master.  I fought for my liberty.  They were too many and too strong
+for me, however.  I was held down, and it seemed at the time as if they
+must break every bone in my body."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Up to that point Ananda had used the English tongue.  He laid his hand
+on his wife's and asked in native speech whether she knew that he had
+been beaten.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Aiyoh! husband!  I suffered and died with thee, beloved lord!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her eyes filled with tears and she kissed the hand passionately.  He
+continued in the vernacular which Alderbury understood.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"After they left me I fainted.  I don't know how long I lay there, but
+the next thing I remember was water being dashed into my face.  I tried
+to protect my eyes, but the movement gave me great pain, and I cried
+out; I was so terribly bruised.  Someone spoke to me in a whisper and
+told me to be quiet.  Once more my friend in need was the sweeper; the
+man you saw, Mr. Alderbury, when you paid me a visit."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You were too sick to think of caste any longer, I imagine."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Indeed, I was!  I let him do with me as he would; and I was grateful,
+more grateful than I can express.  He rubbed my wounds with some
+soothing ointment and staunched the blood; for I was bleeding a good
+deal.  Then he gave me a draught with opium in it.  It deadened the
+pain and made me drowsy and indifferent to all that was happening to
+me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Good man! worthy of the name of Christian though he is only a
+heathen," commented Alderbury with warm approval.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Dorama did not take the same view.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Husband, did you really accept the services of the sweeper?" she
+asked, her wondering eyes lifted to his with concern for his welfare.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, my lotus flower, I did; and I owe him my life.  I should have
+died of exhaustion and starvation if I had been left untended all that
+night and the following day."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"What happened next?" asked Alderbury as Ananda showed a disposition to
+end his tale there.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Before I continue my story I must ask you to keep my secret.  I have
+given a promise that it is to be told to no one but yourself; and I
+pray you to respect our confidence."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"'Our confidence'?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mine and Mrs. Hulver's."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a pause; and then, as enlightenment came, Alderbury said in a
+low voice:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So then, you were young William?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The sweeper carried me wrapped in a sheet; for I could neither walk
+nor stand.  It was between two and three o'clock in the morning when I
+was hoisted on to his back in a half unconscious state, my senses too
+stupefied to feel much pain, and I was taken to the college house.
+Mrs. Hulver was roused from her sleep by the sweeper woman&mdash;who works
+there, and is a relative of the man&mdash;and I was handed over to the
+housekeeper.  I have since called her mother, so good and kind has she
+been to me.  Under her care I recovered."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And through her good offices you have come to me.  How did you get
+here?  By train?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, sir; I came in your own cart and brought my luggage with me,"
+replied Ananda.  He continued his story.  "When the sweeper found that
+I did not turn up as I promised at the little station, he carried the
+bundles back to his own house and came hot-foot to learn the reason of
+my failure to keep the appointment.  There he found me in that sorry
+plight."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am still puzzled," said Alderbury after a little thought.  "Mrs.
+Hulver's son was seen by Miss Wenaston lying on the cot in her
+sitting-room; and he was wearing uniform, the uniform of the regiment."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When I regained consciousness in her room, I found myself dressed in
+the uniform that belonged to her son's father.  She had kept it, and
+though it was very old and a loose fit, it served as an excellent
+disguise."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She is a wonderful woman!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The kindest! the best!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Ananda stopped with sudden emotion, his heart too full for words.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose this means that all communication between yourself and your
+family comes to an end," remarked Alderbury.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think not, sir," replied Ananda in a decisive voice.  "Why should I
+be banished from my home like a criminal because I have changed my
+religion?  I shall not allow my wife to go back.  There is no reason
+why she should run any risk of insult; but I shall go back later on,
+when the irritation against me has died down, and see my father and
+mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't put yourself in any unnecessary danger.  Past experience should
+make you careful," said Alderbury.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It has been dearly bought and is not likely to be forgotten," replied
+Ananda, with a touch of bitterness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And remember also that in Chirapore you, as an outcaste and Christian,
+have no civil rights."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am not likely to forget what is the only stain upon its government
+as a model native State.  I should not think of returning to live
+there; but I mean to go some time or other to see my mother."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The old obstinacy was still to the fore.  Behind it stood no longer the
+weakness and vacillation of youth, but the noble courage of a man who
+had been tried in the fire of affliction and not found wanting.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And now I want to know how your wife managed to get away and meet me
+on the road."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell your story, beloved.  I, too, want to hear how you escaped and
+who befriended you," said Ananda.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The friend was the same Englishwoman who helped you," answered Dorama
+timidly; but gaining courage she continued: "She arranged it all with
+Bopaul.  There was no difficulty; for since I have been thus"&mdash;she
+touched her coarse cloth&mdash;"no one has cared how I spent my time nor
+where I wandered.  Mayita came every day to see me and we passed hours
+in your little room, my lord, where I found this!"  She pulled out his
+glove and showed it to him.  "At sunset yesterday Mayita brought me a
+message from Bopaul to say that my husband was alive and safe on
+British ground, out of reach of our uncle's spite.  Oh, how I rejoiced
+at the good news! but I was obliged to hide my feelings.  Mayita told
+me that if I wished to see him again, I was to keep my secret and
+follow every direction sent by her, without asking any questions.  This
+morning as soon as I could leave the house I went to the little room
+and there I found Mayita waiting for me.  She said that I was to go at
+once to Bopaul whom I should find in the compound.  He was there.
+Without a word he took my hand as he takes his sister's and together we
+walked away.  Any one seeing us from the house would have thought that
+he was leading his sister home, for my saree was drawn over my head;
+and Mayita has grown nearly as tall as I am."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Did no one notice you, my pearl?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Who would let his eye rest on the unlucky widow any longer than he
+could help?  Those who might have seen turned their heads away."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your wife may thank your enemies for what they did," remarked
+Alderbury.  "Without her widow's dress she could never have escaped."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Bopaul brought some food with him, for we had a long way to go.  We
+walked steadily for an hour.  Then he made me sit down and rest.
+Afterwards we walked again, and my heart beat fast when I heard the
+call of the big fire carriage; but I grew quiet again when I sat by Mr.
+Alderbury's side, and we flew along the road like the wind.  I felt
+that no one, not even our uncle, could catch me and take me back.  Ah,
+husband, how I suffered when they did this to me!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She passed her hand over her bald head.  Ananda stooped and kissed the
+shaven crown.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Beloved, it will soon grow again and be more beautiful than ever."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Alderbury slipped away unnoticed.  He was full of sympathy for the two
+poor souls who had passed through so much pain whilst for himself all
+had been as he desired.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap28"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mayita had a long day in the little room by herself, but the time
+passed quickly.  Bopaul provided her with a packet of cakes and sweets
+to serve instead of the midday meal which she would be obliged to miss.
+He explained to his mother that they were going some distance and would
+not be home till sunset.  No surprise, therefore, was caused by
+Mayita's absence.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She had brought the bridegroom and bride with her, and she spent a very
+busy day marrying the happy wood-apple to the satin-white datura
+blossom plucked fresh from the tree on the way there.  The oleander
+bush and gourd supplied the flowers required for the guests; and as for
+the feast, no pretence was needed.  The cakes were real; the sweets
+were of the best; and as she ate them Mayita's enjoyment was abundant
+enough for herself and the numerous guests represented by a goodly
+array of sticks and stones.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She lived in a little kingdom of her own; and for the time she was dead
+to that cold outer world which treated her so unkindly.  In the
+beautiful domain of her imagination her widowhood passed away and she
+was the mother of the bride or bridegroom according to her fancy.
+Various sounds in the distance met her ear, but she paid no heed to
+them.  The jangle of bullock bells only stirred her sufficiently to
+bring to her remembrance the fact that the bridegroom should have a
+gilded bullock coach in his procession.  It sent her on a careful
+search through the yard for something that would represent the coach.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The sound of the bullock bells caused a greater sensation in the house
+than in Ananda's little room.  They broke suddenly upon the household
+an hour before the midday meal, as the cattle plunged up the
+carriage-drive and were stopped with much sighing and snorting before
+the front verandah.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The door of the coach was opened by a firm unhesitating hand, and out
+stepped no less a person than Gunga herself.  She bore no sign of
+widowhood in her appearance.  Her upright figure was swathed in a new
+silk saree that, like Mrs. Hulver's Sunday dress, "stood by itself."
+She wore a purple satin jacket and a crimson silk petticoat.  The rich
+gold embroidered border of the saree held the wealth of colour
+together, and saved the whole from tawdriness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With the dignity of a ranee of the olden days she moved up the steps of
+the family mansion and entered her house.  A cry of surprise greeted
+her as the various members came hurriedly forward to make their
+salaams.  Sooba's wife when she had recovered from her astonishment was
+not behindhand with her welcome.  Her husband was out, she informed her
+sister-in-law, but he would return to dinner.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gunga's eyes were everywhere; she led the way to the kitchen, where she
+looked into the seething pots and bubbling curries.  She found nothing
+wrong and expressed general approval of her sister-in-law's management.
+Having satisfied herself she left the kitchen.  Sooba's wife followed
+closely at her heels deputing another woman to take up her duties.
+Mats and cushions were brought, and the two sisters seated themselves
+in the courtyard to have a chat before the food was served.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How does our excellent elder brother spend his time?" asked Sooba's
+wife, burning with curiosity to know if the invalid were much worse.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has taken over charge of the farm."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It must be hard work for one in such poor health."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not at all!" snapped Gunga, who did not like these personal inquiries;
+they were a breach of etiquette, and likely to bring bad luck upon the
+subject.  "The health of all the family at the farm is excellent.
+Strongest of all is the big master; he is like a man of thirty instead
+of fifty, and he is busy all day long with the rest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"This is good news, sister.  My husband will be rejoiced to learn it.
+We feared that you were having much anxiety."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The halting speech betrayed her real feeling, and Gunga was not
+deceived.  With keen enjoyment of the discomfiture of the other she
+gave more details of her husband's restoration to health.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I felt sure that you and our little brother would be pleased to hear
+of the improvement," she concluded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How is the silk farm doing?" asked the other, hoping to defer the
+cross examination that she knew was pending.  She felt unequal to the
+task of explaining satisfactorily all that had occurred of late.  Sooba
+himself must account for his various unwarranted assumptions in his
+stewardship.  Gunga was quite ready to talk of the silk business with
+its new developments.  She retailed at length the history of its
+culture on the farm&mdash;all they had done and all they hoped to do.  She
+described their plans for further improvements by which their profits
+might have increased and the industry expanded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The manager leaves us in a week's time, and my husband will continue
+to superintend until he returns six months hence."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The spirits of the listener rose at this information; it was highly
+satisfactory as far as Sooba was concerned.  Considering that there was
+no longer any fear apparently of Pantulu's death, the next best thing
+for his younger brother's interests would be a prolonged absence with
+the creation of new interests outside Chirapore city.  In the midst of
+their conversation Sooba himself appeared.  He had seen the bullocks
+tethered in the compound, but had not heard who the visitor was.  He
+thought it might be a merchant come from a distance to buy silk or
+cotton or rice; and with the intention of creating an impression of his
+own importance he swaggered in, speaking with a loud strident voice
+that could be heard all over the house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Wife!" he called.  "Where are the men of the family!  Why isn't the
+food ready?  What are your lazy women about in the kitchen?  We shall
+have to send some of them out into the fields if they can't do their
+work in the house.  Don't they know that the master is hungry and would
+eat?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+His wife scrambled to her feet and went to meet him.  Before she could
+say a word he recommenced his scolding.  "A new bamboo is wanted for
+this lazy family; and if the mistress will not use it, the master will
+take it in his own hand.  I warn these idlers that the stick will not
+fall lightly or sparingly."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+A figure appeared suddenly behind his shrinking wife, tall, stern and
+commanding, with no fear in her eye.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Neither the master nor the mistress of this house requires a new
+bamboo unless it be for the back of a presumptuous younger brother,"
+she cried in a tone that startled Sooba more than a little.  He fell
+back a pace or two as he was confronted by the angry Gunga.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Sister!  I did not know you were here!  When did you arrive?"  Then as
+he received no reply he continued turning to his trembling wife.
+"Woman, have you seen to the comfort of the big mistress?  Have you
+provided the curry she likes with plenty of green chutney?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She was not to be taken in by this solicitation for her personal
+welfare, and she replied sharply:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have everything I want.  As the house is mine I have only to give my
+orders.  Sister, go to the kitchen and see that the rice is properly
+strained before it is served out."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sooba's wife gladly made her escape, and left her husband to bear the
+brunt of the storm that she guessed was not far off.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You have taken too much upon you, brother.  We did not make you master
+of the house, but steward in our absence.  It seems that you have
+misunderstood your position."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have done my best," replied Sooba sullenly.  "From all we have heard
+it is probably that the time is not far distant when I shall be the
+real master, since the son you bore your husband has become an
+outcaste."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The taunt only added fuel to the fire that was already burning within
+the breast of the mother.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The mention of my son reminds me to ask where he is.  News was brought
+to the silk farm which I could scarcely believe.  It was said that you
+had driven him away, and that he has left his home without saying where
+he has gone."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"My fool of a wife has been telling you tales," he replied, scowling in
+a manner that promised ill for her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have learned nothing from your wife.  I asked no questions but kept
+them for you.  The news was brought to me by the men who returned from
+carrying the last bales of silk to the go-downs in Chirapore.  They
+heard it in the bazaar; and I have come to inquire into its truth and
+to learn first and foremost where my son is."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She let her eyes rest upon him with a keen inquiry there was no
+evading.  Much as he disliked the close catechising he was obliged to
+reply.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"We have every reason to believe that he has thrown himself down the
+well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Why should he be tempted to do such a thing?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He was angry and offended because we gave him the punishment ordered
+by the swami.  It was light and less than he deserved&mdash;&mdash;"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have heard another story.  Where is his wife?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She is here in the house."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I don't see her in the kitchen, where, as my daughter-in-law, she
+should be superintending the women."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Since she has become a widow she leads a retired life as is only
+fitting," explained Sooba, with increasing uneasiness.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A widow! then the body of my son has been found!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sooba shifted from one foot to the other as he answered.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His body is still in the well."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Has any one seen it?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"His cap was seen and recovered from the place where it hung about a
+foot above the surface of the water."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And on the strength of that you have performed the widow rites.  It
+appears to me that you have acted with unwarrantable harshness towards
+my son and his wife.  There would have been time for the ceremonies
+when my son's body was found."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is dead!  I assure you he is dead!" protested Sooba.  "It is the
+firm conviction of other members of the family whom I have consulted
+that he is dead."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And if it be true, is it for the wife of the younger brother to strike
+the bangles off the arm of the heir's widow?  But I tell you she is no
+widow!  My boy is alive; he had too much spirit to stay where he was
+ill-treated; and too much courage to drown himself.  You were wrong to
+beat him as you did."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It was with your consent."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That a small punishment should be given to satisfy the swami lest he
+should curse us.  You have done more; you have gone beyond your orders.
+Where are the jewels?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have them in safe keeping, sister," he replied, beginning to tremble
+for the consequences.  She had it in her power to turn him and his wife
+out of the house.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"After we have eaten you shall hand them over to me together with the
+moneys that have been paid in by the silk and cotton merchants."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She dismissed him as the household was waiting for dinner.  The
+men&mdash;who were served first&mdash;could not begin to eat until the
+representative of the family had offered the daily oblation to the
+deity and said grace.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+When the meal was over Gunga summoned Sooba giving him no time for the
+after-dinner nap claimed by the more important members of the family.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Let him bring the jewels," she said to his wife.  "Come yourself and
+listen to what I have to say.  It concerns you both."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sooba had an unhappy half-hour with his sister-in-law.  He found
+himself called upon to account not only for the jewels and every rupee
+paid in but also for every anna paid out, the amount of rice taken from
+the granaries, the curry stuffs that had been used, the produce of the
+dairy and garden.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The wardrobes and clothes' chests were emptied, the contents displayed
+and missing sarees accounted for.  The contents of the strong box
+containing the family jewels was examined, even to the numbering of the
+loose gems and pearls that formed part of the wealth belonging to
+Pantulu.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was hard to be made to disgorge when he had looked upon the coveted
+treasure as his already; but Sooba and his wife had no alternative.
+Dorama's jewels were handed over down to the smallest silver toe-ring.
+Gunga examined them critically, separating several of the choicest and
+most valuable from the rest.  They were not put back in the strong box,
+but were placed in another and more portable jewel case.  This she
+locked, and slipped the key on her own bunch which was tied to her
+betel-bag.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Are you taking the jewels away with you?" asked Sooba.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"They are required at the silk farm," she replied shortly.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"For yourself or for the manager's wife?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Neither; they are to be worn at a wedding I am arranging.  They will
+adorn the bride."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is she a relative that you honour her thus?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She will be when the ceremonies are completed.  I am making a second
+marriage for my husband, since our son is lost to us, and I am not
+likely to give him another.  The girl is young and strong and will bear
+us many sons."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Sooba's jaw dropped in astonished consternation and speech failed him.
+His wife was more ready with her tongue.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It is an excellent plan, sister; one that I had thought of adopting
+myself since the gods have not blessed me with children.  Is your
+husband strong and well enough to play his part?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You should see him!  He is like a young man! you would think the years
+had gone backwards instead of forwards, he is so full of strength and
+energy."  Gunga handled the remaining jewels tenderly as she put them
+back in the strong box.  "Although the girl's people are not poor, her
+jewels are nothing compared with these that belonged to my son's wife.
+This gold ornament"&mdash;she picked up the richly embossed disc that
+Sooba's wife had envied and already appropriated&mdash;"will sit well on her
+hair.  It used to look so well on Dorama's head."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"When is the wedding to be?" asked Sooba, his heart sinking within him
+as he contemplated the future.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"In three days' time.  After the wedding I shall return here to live,
+and my little sister will remain on the silk farm under the care of the
+manager's wife.  I shall go over frequently to see them, and when the
+manager comes back six months hence, my husband and his wife will join
+us here.  Now I wish to see Dorama, and to know why she did not come to
+the kitchen for her food when the rest of the family had dinner."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Some of the women were sent in search, but the widow could nowhere be
+found.  The basin of curry and rice put aside for her was untouched.
+One of them recalled the fact that she went frequently to the room
+formerly occupied by her husband.  Gunga rose to her feet.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I will go there myself; you need not follow; I wish to see her alone."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Her word was law and they dared not disobey.  She passed through the
+garden and out into the compound taking the path by which the men had
+gone on that dreadful night with their evil intent.  To her surprise
+she heard a voice murmuring in the room.  Unseen by the busy
+match-maker she watched the child at her play.  Then she entered and
+the girl started violently as though she had been discovered in some
+act of flagrant wickedness, as, indeed, from a Hindu point of view was
+the case; for was she not enjoying a few hours of perfect happiness,
+and upsetting the Hindu notion that widows have no right to be happy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Most excellent lady, I was brought here by my brother and told to stop
+till he returns," she said, fearing blame and perhaps punishment for
+trespassing where widows were unwelcome.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are doing no harm, child.  Your brother is Bopaul, is he not?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No one ever had such a good brother!  To-day he is being good to the
+poor unhappy Dorama; but I am forbidden to say anything about it; so if
+your excellency would know what he is doing you must wait till he
+returns."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"How soon will that be?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps in another hour.  They had to walk until they found the
+carriage that was to take Dorama away."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Where was she going?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, that I must not tell; but think how pleased her husband will be
+when he sees her!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is he waiting on the road?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I think not, most honourable lady, because he is safe somewhere with
+the missionary; but where I may not say."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Do you know the place?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"No, excellent mother, not yet.  My brother will tell me this evening
+when he comes back."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is coming here?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To take me home.  I hope he will be in before it is dark.  I should
+not like to stay in this ugly little room at night.  This was the place
+where they beat Ananda.  The market women say that he was nearly
+killed; and that his new God must have come Himself and carried him
+away; he was hurt so that he could not stand.  Ah, bah, that Sooba Iyer
+is a bad man, the market women say!  I love listening to the market
+news.  When I am strong and big I shall ask them to let me go as a
+coolie to carry one of the baskets.  Then I shall hear of all the
+deaths and weddings and births and beatings and accidents and scoldings
+and widowings."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Go on with your play, child.  I will see your brother when he comes
+for you," said Gunga.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mayita had another hour to wait before she heard his call.  As she came
+out of the yard she caught sight of the tall stern woman going across
+the compound to meet him.  She stopped at the entrance till the
+interview was over, the timidity of the widow and her fear of giving
+offence holding her back.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want to ask you if you know anything of my son," said Gunga going
+straight to the point.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He is staying with Mr. Alderbury, the English missionary."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And his wife?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"She has joined him with my assistance.  After all that has happened I
+felt that I must lend her the help of a friend, whether I gave offence
+to your honourable husband or not."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It will not be regarded as an offence.  Why did they leave home in
+this secret manner?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Can you ask, most excellent lady?  The treatment they both received
+from their uncle was sufficient to drive them to the other end of the
+earth.  I wonder they lived through it."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gunga's lips closed tightly, and her eye burned with the fire of the
+tiger who sees her cubs ill-treated.  There was a pause and she asked:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Is he well?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"He has nearly recovered from his injuries."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want to see him!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The unpremeditated words burst from her lips with passionate longing.
+It was the cry of the mother whose maternal love could not be stifled
+nor killed by anger.  Her instinct thrust down every barrier, and she
+cried aloud for her offspring.  The lonely woman was giving up her
+marital rights to another for the sake of her husband's religious
+prejudices that she respected and believed in thoroughly.  She devoutly
+hoped that a son would be born to him who might bring comfort and
+reassurance concerning the future.  Her act of renunciation made a
+heavy demand upon her.  She had already seen how the man's eyes had
+turned with desire towards the younger woman in whom lay so much
+promise; and although she was still mistress of his house, their unity
+was ruptured for ever.  The Hindu woman understands polygamy and, as in
+Gunga's case, sees the urgent necessity for it; but she is not
+indifferent.  She tolerates it as unavoidable; at the bottom of her
+heart she hates and loathes it.  This introduction of a second mate is
+at the bottom of all sorts of evil in the zenana, of jealousy and
+hatred on the part of the superseded; of arrogance and tyranny on the
+part of the interloper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gunga was battling with jealousy even though she herself had arranged
+what was to take place; and she turned to her son with a longing that
+would take no denial, renegade and apostate though he was to his family
+and religion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Tell me where he is so that I may go to him!  After all, he is still
+my son, my only child, my dearly loved boy!" she pleaded.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Bopaul recognised the maternal cry and he answered sympathetically.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"A letter addressed to the mission station will always find him.  Let
+me remind you, honourable lady, that it is not Ananda who has created
+this breach between his parents and himself.  It was always his hope
+that his father would continue to treat him as a son; that some way
+might be found by which the ties of blood might be maintained without
+complete banishment from home.  You have so acted that any compromise
+was impossible.  He has done well in removing himself out of reach of
+injury and insult; and in forsaking a country that gives him no
+protection as a citizen."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Gunga's proud head drooped.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Perhaps we were too hard on the boy.  If we had had more time for
+thought it might have been different," she said, in a broken voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Shall I give him a message when I write?" asked Bopaul whose curious,
+modern philanthropy made him ready and almost anxious to heal the
+breach.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Ah, do, my son!" replied Gunga, with sudden hope.  "Tell him that I
+will come soon and talk to him at the mission house.  I have so much to
+say.  There is work for him at Bombay.  Tell him that though he is lost
+to his father, to his religion, to the State&mdash;though he is an outcaste
+and an exile, his mother remains his mother still.  Nothing, nothing
+that gods or men may devise, can ever deprive a woman of the rights of
+motherhood when once a child is born to her!"
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap29"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+CHAPTER XXIX
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver was busy cleaning and folding an old uniform.  The door of
+her room was closed and locked whilst she was thus occupied.  With many
+sighs she passed the brush over the well-worn cloth and smoothed out
+the creases.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"An iron would do it good; but it must go for the present as it is.  It
+won't do for the uniform to be seen just now.  To think what the master
+would say if he knew that the poor young man was in the house all the
+time!  He would give me a month's notice as sure as my name is Maria
+Hulver!  But there, as William used to say"&mdash;the William in her mind
+was the wearer of the uniform in the old days&mdash;"'What the eye doesn't
+see, the heart doesn't grieve for.'  God forgive me for loading up
+young William's shoulders with that canteen racket, and him as innocent
+as a new-born babe!  But as William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;used to say:
+'If the dhoby donkey were shown half the load that was meant for its
+back, it would die of terror.'  Young William shall never know if I can
+help it that he was the hero of a canteen fight."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She wrapped the uniform in an old linen towel, tucking in bits of
+camphor on every side, and laid the relic of by-gone days in the bottom
+drawer of her wardrobe.  A knock at the door startled her.  She closed
+the drawer hastily, put away the brush and went to see who called her.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Miss Eola!  Come in, miss.  Were you wanting to speak to me?"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+It was the day after Alderbury's departure.  The car had come back
+bringing a letter for Eola, the first she had received since his love
+had been declared.  She read it in the privacy of her room, lingering
+over the closely-written sheets as Mrs. Hulver had lingered over the
+folding and putting away of the uniform that had belonged to the father
+of her boy.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The housekeeper was still in ignorance of what had passed between Eola
+and the guest.  Her mind had been too full of anxiety over Ananda's
+welfare to admit of any curiosity concerning the behaviour of other
+people.  She knew that she ran a risk in extending the helping hand to
+the persecuted 'vert; but she had carried it through without faltering.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Without any explanations she had ordered his luggage to be placed in
+the missionary's cart and told the driver that he was to start that
+evening, a command that was gladly obeyed.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+While the dinner was still proceeding Mrs. Hulver and her
+scarlet-coated companion left the house presumably for a walk.  A jutka
+was picked up outside, and directed to take the same road as that
+followed by the cart.  The pony went much faster than the slowly moving
+cattle, and soon overtook and passed them.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Half an hour later the missionary's servant was roused, and to his
+intense astonishment confronted by the Principal's housekeeper.  By her
+side stood a native gentleman dressed in European clothes and wearing a
+neat turban.  As Alderbury's servant had never seen Ananda he did not
+recognise Mrs. Hulver's companion.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You will carry on this friend of mine to the mission station," she
+said, "and you will tell the master when you see him that I gave you
+the order."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The servants all understood the varied modulations of her voice.  In
+this case it was comprehended, though not expressed, that a breach of
+her confidence would be resented, and bring the individual into her
+black books.  At the same time there was a chink of silver that
+purchased silence and secured obedience.  Ananda took Alderbury's place
+on the mattress.  The servant seated himself near the driver and the
+cart started on its homeward journey.  By daylight it should have
+crossed the border and be safe in British territory; and by nine
+o'clock it should be home.  As no warning had been given to Ananda's
+family it was not likely that he would be pursued or discovered; and
+Mrs. Hulver saw the car swallowed up in the darkness of the night with
+a sigh of relief.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+She walked back to the place where she had directed the jutka to wait
+for her, carrying the uniform, which had been exchanged under cover of
+the darkness for the tweed suit, hidden under her cloak.  She was back
+at the college house before eleven.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The following day, on which she was supposed to be seeing young William
+off by the morning mail was spent at the house of a Eurasian friend in
+the town.  Eola, suspecting nothing and occupied with her own affairs,
+asked no questions; and it was not till the morning after Alderbury's
+departure that she and Mrs. Hulver met.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+The housekeeper accompanied by Ramachetty and the cook presented
+herself for the usual ritual of ordering dinner.  During the
+housekeeping business Mrs. Hulver confined herself rigidly to the
+subject of the menu.  She dared not trust herself to speak of anything
+else lest her tongue should slip and betray her.  The secret must be
+kept at all costs from Dr. Wenaston and from the people in the town.
+The sweeper might be trusted.  He had been a faithful friend all along,
+and one day his fidelity would be rewarded by Ananda.  Of that she was
+sure, although the man did not look for any recompense.  All that he
+had done had been the result of his love for the young master he had
+known and served in time past.  The change of faith on the part of
+Ananda did not affect him.  He knew nothing of the intricate
+ceremonialism of the caste Hindus.  His religion was simple animism,
+the propitiation of the power of evil.  If he had had any opinion to
+offer, it would have been that his master had come under the influence
+of an evil spirit, and would do well to make an offering of blood.
+Mrs. Hulver considered that the rest of the servants might also be
+trusted.  The real identity of young William had never been known to
+them, and he remained Mrs. Hulver's sick son to the end.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola intended making her confession after the servants were dismissed;
+but Mrs. Hulver departed quickly in their wake and defeated her
+purpose.  She determined not to put it off and went to the
+housekeeper's room to inform her of the engagement without further
+delay.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+With the packing away of the uniform Mrs. Hulver drew a breath of
+relief.  Anxiety was at an end, a load off her mind.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Take a chair, miss.  The room is still untidy from having young
+William here; but the sweeper and I will soon get it straight when she
+comes back from her dinner."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"It looks quite neat," said Eola inconsequently; she was wondering how
+she was to open the subject uppermost in her mind.  "Your son got away
+all safe yesterday morning, I suppose."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Yes, miss!"  Mrs. Hulver would not trust herself to more than the
+simple affirmative.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I am afraid you are rather tired after all the nursing you have had."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I took a good rest yesterday.  After young William left I went to see
+my first husband's cousin, Mrs. de Silva.  She was in a fine way about
+her girl who has refused to marry the man chosen for her.  The silly
+child&mdash;she's only sixteen&mdash;has set her heart on a young Englishman who
+is out of employment.  I did my best to cheer her up and to argue with
+the girl."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are always doing something for others.  You must think of yourself
+now and rest."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm happier when I am doing for somebody else, miss.  As William&mdash;that
+was my second&mdash;used to say: 'You'll find happiness for yourself when
+you're hunting it for others.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That's quite true."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+There was a pause.  Mrs. Hulver received a sudden shock.  Her eyes had
+fallen on her husband's helmet which was lying on the camp cot.  She
+had forgotten to put it away.  Eola saw it and observed:
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Your son has forgotten his helmet, surely."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"That isn't my son's, miss!  It belonged to his father.  I got it out
+to show him the difference the authorities have made in the pattern.
+They are always changing, and it must cost the government something
+first and last.  I have kept that old helmet as a momentum of my boy's
+father."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I suppose out of all the three you liked him best."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Well, miss, he was my choice.  My first was my mother's choice, and my
+third chose me.  You see, William, my second, left me with something
+else besides his helmet and that was young William."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola's attention was wandering and Mrs. Hulver was pleased to see that
+the helmet had not excited her curiosity.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I want to tell you something; it is about Mr. Ananda," said Eola.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Mrs. Hulver started, but was not to be caught off her guard.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"To tell you the truth, miss; I am getting rather tired of Mr. Ananda's
+name.  I dare say he has got safely away from Chirapore by this time if
+he isn't down the well.  As William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;said when the
+barrack sweeper led him home from the canteen: 'Misfortune will find
+you queer friends in queer places.'  If Mr. Ananda is still alive he
+has probably found some friend, queer or otherwise, to help him."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You are right.  When Mr. Alderbury reached home Mr. Ananda met him at
+the door."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Lor, miss! you take my breath away!" exclaimed Mrs. Hulver expressing
+discreet astonishment.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Like your husband in his difficulty, it was the sweeper who proved his
+friend.  He took him to some hiding place, and threw his cap down the
+well to deceive his people and put them off the scent.  When the
+excitement of his mysterious disappearance was over, the man contrived
+to smuggle him out of the State of Chirakul into British territory,
+where he is quite safe.  At the mission house another surprise awaited
+Mr. Ananda.  His wife managed to escape and find her way to Mr.
+Alderbury's station.  I thought you would be pleased to hear the news,"
+concluded Eola with reproach in her voice.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"So I am, miss," was the warm response.  "I am very glad to know that
+he is safe.  He wasn't safe from the spite of wicked men as long as he
+remained in Chirapore.  His only hiding place was the sweeper's house
+where no man of caste would venture.  As William&mdash;that was my
+first&mdash;used to say: 'A rat that has but one hole is soon caught.'  Mr.
+Ananda will need no hiding place as long as he stays with Mr.
+Alderbury."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I have some more news for you, Mrs. Hulver.  Mr. Alderbury was so much
+impressed by what you said about a house being no home without a woman
+in it, that he has asked me to make a home for him of his house&mdash;and I
+have consented."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"There, now, if I haven't gone and made a mess of it after all!"
+exclaimed Mrs. Hulver, more than a little disturbed.  "As William&mdash;that
+was my second&mdash;used to say: 'An ounce of sense is worth a pound of wit;
+better slip with the foot than the tongue.'  To think that my foolish
+tongue which must need sharpen itself at his expense should have put it
+into his head to ask you to do that!  I should never be reconciled to
+your marrying a missionary, miss; not if I lived to be a hundred!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Don't worry about it; it's all right; I am not going to marry a
+missionary," said Eola.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Not marry him! miss! whatever do you mean?" cried Mrs. Hulver in
+horror.  "You can't keep house for a man except as his housekeeper or
+his wife&mdash;that is to say, if you have right-minded principles.  As
+William&mdash;that was my second&mdash;used to say: 'Bad as the best may be; it
+is better to be poisoned in your blood than in your principles.'"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+Eola reassured her.  "It is quite all right, I am going to marry him,
+and you are going to take care of the doctor for me."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Then I don't understand what you mean, miss, about not marrying a
+missionary," said Mrs. Hulver, completely puzzled.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Alderbury is giving up missionary work.  He has been offered a
+bishopric."
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"And him with those legs!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"The legs don't matter if they belong to the right sort of man, as is
+the case here," said Eola, prepared to do battle for her lover.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"Mr. Alderbury, my Lord Bishop!  I can't get over it; it is so
+surprising!"
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"You haven't congratulated me and wished me good luck," Eola remarked
+in an aggrieved voice, which she knew would win over her faithful
+housekeeper.
+</P>
+
+<P>
+"I'm sure I beg your pardon.  I congratulate you with all my heart.
+Fancy you marrying a bishop!  Who would have thought it!  It's no more
+than you deserve all the same.  Dear me!  How strangely things turn
+out! you taking a missionary and finding yourself marrying a bishop!
+and Mr. Ananda coming to life again and finding his wife a widow! and
+she escaping all through losing her husband and being widowed!  As
+William&mdash;that was my third&mdash;said when he fell into a prickly pear bush
+and just escaped being seen the worse for liquor by the colonel:
+'Maria, me dear,'&mdash;he was such a gentleman in his speech, he
+was!&mdash;'Maria, me dear!  You never know your luck.'"
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="finis">
+THE END.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<P CLASS="t4">
+PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<HR>
+
+<BR><BR><BR>
+
+<A NAME="chap30"></A>
+
+<P CLASS="t3b">
+  BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR
+</P>
+
+<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%">
+HISTORY OF FORT ST. GEORGE, MADRAS<BR>
+ON THE COROMANDEL COAST<BR>
+THE NAUTCH GIRL<BR>
+THE FOREST OFFICER<BR>
+A MIXED MARRIAGE<BR>
+THE SANYASI<BR>
+DILYS<BR>
+CASTE AND CREED<BR>
+THE TEA-PLANTER<BR>
+THE INEVITABLE LAW<BR>
+DARK CORNERS<BR>
+THE UNLUCKY MARK<BR>
+SACRIFICE<BR>
+THE RAJAH<BR>
+THE MALABAR MAGICIAN<BR>
+</P>
+
+<BR><BR><BR><BR>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Outcaste, by F. E. Penny
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Outcaste, by F. E. Penny
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Outcaste
+
+Author: F. E. Penny
+
+Release Date: December 10, 2011 [EBook #38195]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OUTCASTE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Cover art]
+
+
+
+
+
+THE OUTCASTE
+
+
+BY
+
+F. E. PENNY
+
+
+AUTHOR OF
+
+"THE SANYASI," "THE RAJAH," "THE MALABAR MAGICIAN," ETC.
+
+
+
+SPECIAL EDITION
+
+For sale only in India and the British Colonies
+
+
+
+
+LONDON
+
+CHATTO & WINDUS
+
+1912
+
+
+
+
+[_The Portrait on the Cover is reproduced from a Miniature by G. I.
+Penny_]
+
+
+
+
+_All rights reserved_
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATED
+
+TO THE
+
+STUDENTS OF HINDU THEOLOGY AND ETHICS
+
+WHOSE WRITINGS
+
+HAVE ASSISTED ME TO TELL
+
+THIS STORY
+
+
+
+
+_The scene is laid in the Native State of Chirakul._
+
+
+CHIRAPORE  . . . Chief Town of Chirakul.
+
+ANANDA . . . . . A Convert to Christianity.
+
+BOPAUL . . . . . Friend of Ananda, and of the same Caste.
+
+COOMARA  . . . . Married to Bopaul's Sister.
+
+DR. WENASTON . . Principal of the Maharajah's College at Chirapore.
+
+EOLA WENASTON  . His Sister.
+
+PROFESSOR TWYFORD
+
+MRS. HULVER  . . Housekeeper to Dr. Wenaston.
+
+DORAMA . . . . . Ananda's Wife.
+
+PANTULU  . . . . His Father.
+
+GUNGA  . . . . . His Mother.
+
+SOOBA  . . . . . His Uncle.
+
+MAYITA . . . . . Coomara's Widow.
+
+
+
+
+THE OUTCASTE
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+The aviation ground was thronged with spectators.  Eyes were turned
+skywards and men held their breath.  Women uttered ejaculations, drawn
+unconsciously from them in their intense excitement.  The wind blew
+gustily with an upward sweep that sent dead leaves and fragments of
+paper into the air.  A furious blast heralding the coming storm seized
+one of the aviators as he was in the act of turning.  It seemed to
+shake him with a living enmity.  Under the violent motion the tips of
+the delicate wings of his machine snapped.  He recognised the
+seriousness of the accident; and the breathless multitude watched his
+efforts to avoid impending catastrophe.  As well might the dying bird,
+winged by the October sportsman, try to sustain its arrested flight.
+The machine ceased its horizontal movement, folded its broken planes
+about its struggling guide, and dropped almost vertically to the ground.
+
+Some, fascinated by the horror of it all, stared at the falling wreck.
+Others withdrew their gaze, but could not shut their ears to the thud
+and crash in which the earthly life of a human being came to an abrupt
+end.
+
+The hush was followed by a murmur as emotion found expression in speech
+and exclamation.  Many of the women shed tears; some screamed; a few
+fainted.  Ten minutes later there was a general stir as the sightseers,
+sick at heart, began to depart.
+
+Eola Wenaston beckoned to her brother, who stood at a little distance
+talking to a couple of men.  He approached the motor car into which she
+had just stepped.  Before she could speak he hastened to reassure her,
+anticipating the question that was on the lips of all.
+
+"It's all right; the man is not dead.  Of course he has had a shock,
+falling from such a height, and the machine is smashed to atoms.  You
+need not be nervous----"
+
+"I'm not nervous.  It was a horrid sight, but I'm not troubled with
+nerves.  The man must be dead after such a fall."
+
+"Well, no one can say how----"
+
+She interrupted him with a touch of impatience born of anxiety.
+
+"Would you mind going home by train?  Mrs. Greenford is thoroughly
+unhinged.  She is in that tent over there crying her heart out, and she
+ought to be taken away at once."
+
+"She doesn't know him, does she?"
+
+"Yes, slightly.  It appears that he dined with her and her husband last
+night."
+
+"What do you wish to do?"
+
+"Drive her home at once; but it leaves you to go by rail.  You won't
+mind giving her your seat in the motor?"
+
+She did not doubt for a moment that he would object.  The car was a new
+purchase made by Wenaston on his arrival in England on furlough.  He
+intended to take it back to India on his return to his work.
+
+"Not a bit," he replied readily.
+
+"I can't ask Miss Stuart to give up her place in the car."
+
+"Of course not; I'll join Ananda and his friends.  They are travelling
+up by the special leaving in about an hour's time."
+
+"You need not journey in their company.  Now-a-days, when our blood is
+curdled by assassinations----"
+
+He interrupted her.
+
+"They are all right--three of the nicest fellows I know."
+
+She made a little grimace, not noticing that a Hindu, faultlessly
+frock-coated and top-hatted, had approached on the other side of the
+motor, and was waiting for an opportunity to speak, waiting with the
+courtesy of good breeding that happily is not the monopoly of the
+European.
+
+"Still, one cannot forget----" she mentioned the name of a well-known
+public man who had been done to death by an Oriental fanatic.
+
+The blood rushed to the temples of the Hindu.  He raised his hat as he
+said quietly--
+
+"You must not suppose that we are all assassins, Miss Wenaston, any
+more than I may suppose you English to be all murderers like----" and
+he in his turn named a notorious criminal who had recently been
+convicted of a murder perpetrated under circumstances of peculiar
+cruelty.
+
+"Of course not!  I beg your pardon, Mr. Ananda.  I ought not to have
+said it."
+
+In her contrition she turned and held out her hand.  She felt the
+nervous close grip, momentary as it was, and the friendliness of the
+Englishwoman warmed towards the exile.
+
+"My brother proposes to travel home with you by rail and give his seat
+in the motor to Mrs. Greenford, who is upset by the accident.  Have you
+heard how the aviator is?"
+
+"I am afraid from all accounts he is in a bad way.  The committee has
+decided to stop the competitions for to-day.  Visitors ought to have no
+objection."
+
+"It is sad to have an ending like this!"  She turned to Wenaston.
+"Please go and find Mrs. Greenford; Miss Stuart is with her.  Bring
+them both here.  Tell them I am in a hurry to start.  I should like to
+get Mrs. Greenford away before she hears worse news.  Oh!  I wish he
+hadn't attempted that last flight!  It was quite unnecessary, and not
+on the programme--a mere show to please the people."
+
+Ananda stood by the motor whilst Wenaston went to do his sister's
+bidding.
+
+"You take these things too seriously, Miss Wenaston.  If you were a
+fatalist you would believe that it was preordained by the gods; and you
+would be resigned.  It is of no use to fight against fate.  He had to
+meet it whether he flew upon an aeroplane or whether he remained in his
+own house.  We are taught that we cannot escape the fulfilment of our
+destiny."
+
+She looked at him, her attention suddenly rivetted.
+
+"You are taught, you say; but do you believe your teacher in these days
+of greater enlightenment?"
+
+A reply was not immediately forthcoming.  Perhaps he would have left
+the question unanswered if she had not uttered an interrogatory,
+"Well?" in a tone that held something more than mere curiosity.
+
+"I am trying to retain my belief in all that my guru instilled into my
+mind before I left India."
+
+"You find it hard to keep the old faith unshaken?"
+
+"Not exactly.  The difficulty is to graft the new teaching on the old.
+We of the advanced school cannot stand still; we must progress."
+
+"And then comes the difficulty of putting new wine into old bottles."
+
+She glanced in the direction of the tent, and he knew that he had lost
+half her attention.  Wenaston was visible in the distance with Mrs.
+Greenford and Miss Stuart.  The sympathy that was so marked a
+characteristic in Eola had tempted the Hindu to say more than was his
+wont.  It was deflected from himself and turned towards the unnerved
+woman, whom she was charitably befriending.
+
+Mrs. Greenford was allowed no time to plunge into fresh tears and
+regrets.  She was prevailed upon to enter the car without delay.
+Wenaston gave his orders to the chauffeur and the motor glided from the
+field.
+
+"It is too early in the day to make gala shows of this aviation
+business.  An accident such as has just happened upsets the women with
+their highly strung nerves.  Even men feel it to be a bit of a shock,"
+remarked Wenaston, as he glanced round at the white faces of the
+spectators.
+
+"Anyway, women should not be present where there is a likelihood of
+accidents," replied Ananda.  "It seems to me that you Englishmen go to
+the opposite extreme from us.  We shut up women and overdo the purdah
+business.  You give them too much liberty."
+
+"My dear fellow!  They take it without asking our permission!"
+
+They were slowly moving towards the exit.  There was no need of haste
+as their train was not due to start for another half-hour, and the
+station was but ten minutes' walk.  Before Ananda could reply they were
+joined by two more Hindus.  In appearance these men were like Ananda,
+although there was no blood relationship between them.  Their
+complexions were of the wheaten tint that frequently goes with high
+caste and good birth.  They were equally well dressed in the latest
+English fashion, without extravagance or display.  To Wenaston they
+were well known, and he greeted them as old acquaintances.
+
+"The show is at an end, Dr. Wenaston.  It is reported that the poor
+fellow is dead.  It only remains for us to go back to town," said one
+who was called Bopaul by his friends.
+
+"I am sorry it has ended fatally.  I suppose every new scientific
+venture must have its victims.  The claims of aviation will be every
+whit as heavy as were the claims of steam and electricity," responded
+Wenaston.
+
+"The death dues of the gods!" murmured the other, known as Coomara.
+
+Bopaul laughed lightly but Ananda turned a pair of serious eyes upon
+Wenaston.
+
+"You don't believe that the higher power ruling our destinies requires
+to be propitiated by a holocaust of victims, do you?" he asked.
+
+"Certainly not.  Accidents occur through the imperfection of machines;
+and with each accident it is only natural that an important step is
+made towards a more perfect knowledge."
+
+"Exactly so," rejoined Coomara, eagerly.  "In return for a life, the
+Fountain of all knowledge in his justice and rectitude gives knowledge."
+
+"Life is not demanded in exchange or in payment for knowledge,"
+objected Wenaston.  "Knowledge might be acquired without loss of life
+if men were more careful and less rash.  The death of the experimenter
+is due to his own ignorance, to his rashness, or to the imperfection of
+the machine in its inception."
+
+"You do not believe that it is the direct act of God?"
+
+Wenaston did not reply.  They were threading their way through the
+crowd that had gathered near the exit of the field, and conversation
+was not easy.  On all sides they heard comments upon the accident.
+Regrets were expressed freely that the new cult had lost one of its
+cleverest pioneers.  His death--by this time it was known that the
+fallen aviator had breathed his last even as they carried him from the
+field--his death was sad from every point of view.  He was a good, a
+thoroughly good fellow; clever beyond most men.  Married? no; but there
+was a girl--he was living at home with his people, and he was going to
+be married shortly.  Money?  Oh yes, plenty, or he could not have
+experimented as he did.  And the cause of the accident?  Ignorance of
+air currents and the power of the wind.  His wings were broken, and
+there was no hope from the very first of salvation.  Although he
+struggled with the machine he must have been aware that he had no
+chance of escape.  The next thing to invent must be some life-saving
+apparatus.
+
+Among their acquaintances the three Hindus were spoken of as A, B, and
+C; or as Ananda, Bopaul, and Coomara.  In addition to these names they
+possessed others unfamiliar to the English ear and difficult of
+pronunciation.  The men were of good birth and high caste; they
+belonged to a native State south of Poona, called Chirakul, the chief
+town being Chirapore.  Under pressure of modern times the
+parents--people of substance and wealth--had sent their sons to Poona
+and Bombay to be educated.  Later on, arrangements were made for a
+visit to England.  It was due to the friendly offices of Wenaston that
+they entered the house of Dr. Twyford, professor of oriental languages.
+Their future was assured without the necessity of taking up any of the
+professions.  It was the intention of their parents to make homes for
+them under the ancestral roof, where they would lead the life of the
+leisured Hindu landowner.  If any occupation were adopted it would be
+of a political nature--some appointment of importance and trust under
+the Maharajah's Government.
+
+Although the three men were alike in dress, complexion and features,
+and belonged to the same caste, they were very dissimilar in character
+and temperament.
+
+Ananda was gentle and speculative.  His nerves were finely strung, and
+he shrank like a woman from physical pain and discomfort, and from
+anything that was of a rough and discordant nature.  The timidity of
+the Hindu peeped out on various occasions, a timidity that was not so
+much cowardice as an inbred loathing of coarseness and brutality.  The
+strong religious instinct, which seems to bring the Asiatic close to
+his strangely conceived deities in worship and propitiation, underlaid
+all his actions.
+
+In early youth he had been married to the sister of his friend Coomara.
+The marriage had been consummated, and there was a child, a son four
+years of age; and during his absence mother and son found a happy home
+with his parents.
+
+Bopaul was a fair specimen of the product of modern education.
+Untainted with disloyalty towards the ruling power, he was never likely
+to become a disciple of disaffection, and join with ambitious men of
+lower caste.  Aristocratic to his finger-tips, he believed in his
+Prince, and hoped to find a place on his council at some time in the
+future.
+
+By nature he was sunny and buoyant, taking life as he found it.  Eager
+to listen to the latest theories and ready to argue, he nevertheless
+proved elusive and disappointing to the serious propagandist.
+Tolerant, without being weak, courteous and even-tempered, he seemed to
+be flexible; but when it came to uprooting inherited beliefs, he proved
+immovable.  The casual observer accused him of flippancy and
+infidelity.  His host and guardian, Professor Twyford, knew better.
+
+"Bopaul is an extraordinary fellow," he used to say.  "I introduce him
+to all the latest theories, to all the facts most recently revealed by
+science; he receives them with intelligence and avidity, not to
+exchange new lamps for old, but to graft them on to the old Hindu
+stock.  I can understand when I look at Bopaul the wonderful
+receptivity of the Hindu nature.  It has preserved the caste system for
+the last three thousand years, a unique survival that has no equal in
+the history of the world.  The Hindus absorb and orientalise theories
+that ought to deal their social and religious system a death blow.  I
+can see Bopaul fitting the latest and most revolutionary ideas into
+niches in his mind without permitting any conflict with the tenets of
+his ancient faith.  He is a very interesting character."
+
+Coomara was unlike either of his companions.  He held to the letter of
+his faith; listened courteously but without interest to modern
+teaching; wherever it clashed with the teaching of the Vedas, he
+rejected it as being incompatible, and therefore useless to himself.
+He refused to discuss the subject of religious differences.  It was
+waste of time if nothing else.  When he first fell under the influence
+of the professor he showed a disinclination to speak on religion at
+all.  Gradually he gained confidence as he discovered that Twyford had
+no design of converting him to the Christian faith, and became more
+communicative.  Somewhat to his astonishment he learned that the
+Englishman possessed a greater and more intimate knowledge of the
+sacred books of his nation than himself.  As his confidence
+strengthened, he became more communicative and less afraid of listening
+to other doctrines.
+
+Coomara had been married to Bopaul's sister when he was ten years old;
+hence the link that bound the three men together.  The period of exile
+appointed by their respective parents was within a few months of its
+termination, and they were looking forward to their return to Chirakul,
+when the ceremonies necessary to restore their caste would be performed
+and Coomara's wedding be completed; for his marriage had been
+practically only a betrothal from the European point of view.  The
+honeymoon had yet to be spent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+The run to London by the express was to occupy an hour.  As Wenaston
+and his companions entered the station the train stood ready by the
+platform.  There was a rush for the carriages, and before they could
+make their way to a first-class smoker, every seat was occupied.  A
+number of people were in the same case as themselves, being unable to
+find places.  He stopped an official and asked when the next train
+would start.
+
+"A duplicate will be put on as soon as this has been sent off.  There
+will be plenty of room in that, sir."
+
+A quarter of an hour later they were comfortably seated in a
+compartment which they had to themselves.  The train ran smoothly and
+conversation was possible.  The Englishman alone smoked.  To the
+high-caste Hindu the replacing of the cigar in the mouth after it has
+touched the tongue and lips is an offence against caste.  The men had
+no objection, however, to the smoke made by another.
+
+"I suppose there was no doubt about the man being dead?" said Ananda,
+as they again discussed the event of the day.
+
+"None whatever," replied Bopaul.  "I heard it announced by a member of
+the committee, who gave it out as a reason for stopping all further
+aviation.  The competitions were over, and the programme completed.
+The man was only marking time, so to speak, just to keep the people
+amused."
+
+"He offered to do it, I heard," remarked Ananda.
+
+"With the wind increasing he ought not to have been allowed to take
+such a risk," said Wenaston.  "It is waste of life to hurl a man into
+eternity for such a trivial reason."
+
+"Hurl a man into eternity," repeated Ananda slowly, his dreamy eyes
+fixed upon the speaker.
+
+"Oh, well; that's just a way of talking.  I meant the life after
+death," replied Wenaston, slightly taken aback.
+
+"The life?  You don't mean re-incarnation; trans-migration is not one
+of your doctrines of belief.  You mean life elsewhere?"
+
+"Yes, in the future--in another world."
+
+"Do you really believe that you will have a personality--that you can
+retain the _ego_ that is in you now--when you enter any other world but
+this?"
+
+"I hope so.  We are taught by our religion that something of the sort
+is to take place.  What is your belief?" asked Wenaston, turning the
+conversation on to Hinduism.  Before Ananda could reply, Coomara,
+assertive in the stronghold of his steadfast faith, spoke.
+
+"We believe that after a long succession of rebirths on this earth we
+shall be absorbed in the Deity."
+
+Wenaston did not reply, and Coomara explained thinking that the
+Englishman had not understood.
+
+"--the great impersonal Brahma, the origin of all things, the Spirit
+that your Bible says brooded on the face of the waters when the world
+was without form."
+
+"You can't expect any positive happiness in such a state," objected
+Wenaston.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"How can you hope for positive happiness if you are impersonal yourself
+and forming part of an impersonal Deity?"
+
+"There is no reason why we should not enjoy a state or condition of
+happiness if the Deity so willed it."
+
+Wenaston avoided the exceedingly difficult question of impersonality
+and exercise of the Divine will; and turned the conversation to a
+subject that was directly and humanly personal.
+
+"Then if you were killed suddenly like that aviator, you would die in
+the comfortable assurance that you would join your God and become part
+of Him."
+
+Somewhat to his surprise there was no reply.  He glanced round at his
+companions under the impression that they had tired of the topic, and
+were no longer interested.  The expression of their faces did not
+confirm this idea.  Coomara's eyes were averted, but Ananda's were
+fixed upon the speaker; and in their depths lurked a shadow of fear
+that Wenaston could not fathom.  He turned to the half-closed window.
+The wind had increased and the threatened storm of rain had begun.  It
+was coming down in driving sheets that beat against the glass and
+obliterated the landscape.
+
+"We are going to have a stormy night; this is not a shower," he
+remarked, as he drew up the window and closed it completely.
+
+It was Bopaul who broke the silence.  The seriousness of the subject
+had no effect on him.  On the contrary, Wenaston thought he detected an
+undercurrent of amusement in his tone.
+
+"Our future life depends on the circumstances surrounding death.  The
+attainment of everlasting happiness would by no means fall to our lot,
+I am afraid.  It is more likely that we individually would be overtaken
+by punishment."
+
+"You have no hell to fear," replied Wenaston.
+
+"We need not fear the hell described by the teachers of your religion;
+but we have an equivalent.  It lies in our transmigration doctrine.
+Rebirth on earth as some inferior creature is our hell; existence as a
+horse, a dhoby-donkey, a rat, a loathsome pariah, a dog or a reptile
+according to the heinousness of our sins."
+
+Bopaul smiled grimly as he caught the expression on the faces of
+Coomara and Ananda.  The latter could not conceal his horror at the
+contemplation of an existence in a lower birth, where pain and
+servitude, he believed, would crush out every joy of life.  His
+sensitive nature revolted against the thought of the indignities and
+sufferings such a birth must involve.  Coomara's fatalism saved him in
+some degree from the dread that overwhelmed Ananda.  If he were
+destined to a succession of inferior births it would be impossible to
+avoid them.  The inevitable must be faced.  As well might a man try to
+draw the sun down from its place in the heavens and stop its course as
+to endeavour to upset the law of destiny.
+
+"It certainly sounds appalling," commented Wenaston.
+
+"Such a fate is as much dreaded by the orthodox Hindu as the fate
+believed by Christians to be the portion of malefactors after death,"
+said Bopaul, without hesitation.
+
+"Then you must take care never to offend your Deity," remarked Wenaston.
+
+"Our code of offence is different from yours.  We have no decalogue.  I
+may commit murder, for instance, without offence, if I kill a pariah or
+an out-caste; but if the victim of my enmity happened to be a Brahman,
+the aspect of the deed would be utterly changed.  The sin would be
+enormous.  Nothing short of a cycle of inferior births could reinstate
+me and restore me to the position I occupy at the present time."
+
+"None of you are likely to kill a Brahman, I imagine," said Wenaston
+lightly, and with the design of dissipating a little of the solemnity
+that seemed to have settled upon Coomara and Ananda.
+
+His well-meant efforts were unavailing.  It was evident that so serious
+a subject was not to be dismissed in a moment.
+
+"There are other ways of transgressing, which, if persisted in, bring
+down upon us the curse of inferior rebirth," said Bopaul.
+"Carelessness and neglect in the performance of our religious duties.
+Manu, the law-giver, himself defines sin in clear, unmistakeable terms.
+We can transgress by neglecting to read the Vedas; by falling away from
+prescribed customs; by remissness in the performance of holy rites.  In
+addition, offences may come through using a wrong diet and omitting
+ceremonial ablutions and prayers.  In short, our sins chiefly consist
+of the breaking of our caste rules by omission or commission."
+
+"Your code is simple enough if you have it all laid down by your
+law-giver.  All you have to do is to take care not to break your
+rules," observed Wenaston, ignoring a fact that he was well aware of.
+
+The conversation had gone beyond the limits of light inconsequent talk;
+and he was watching for an opportunity to express his views courteously
+and without giving offence on caste and the absurdity of clinging to a
+belief in rigid ceremonial.  By profession he was an educationalist.
+Without any intention of proselytising it came naturally to him to
+combat beliefs that he considered to be obsolete and obstructive to
+progress of thought.  He had started the conversation simply to pass
+the time as they travelled.  He continued it that he might tilt without
+offence at that which he took to be the greatest obstacle to the
+advancement of education among the Hindus.  His words were not without
+effect.  It was Bopaul who ventured to speak out and declare what was
+in the mind of all three.
+
+"In our case we have broken the rules of caste, and broken them badly.
+The journey to England alone involves a rupture of a serious nature."
+
+Ananda wore an expression of anxiety that he did not attempt to hide.
+It was true.  From the Hindu point of view he was living in sin.  He
+had not only offended against the order of his caste in crossing the
+sea; but every day that was passed in the foreign country was a
+continuance of sin.  The sense of sin lay heavy on his conscience and
+at times weighed him down to the verge of nervous melancholy.  Under
+its influence he had, soon after his arrival in England, written an
+urgent letter to his father praying that he might be permitted to
+return and perform those purificatory rites which would remove the
+burden of offence.
+
+There was no possibility of escape as long as he remained in a foreign
+land.  The daily ablutions were but half performed; the daily worship
+of the household gods was omitted altogether for want of the necessary
+accessories--the metal image, the rice, camphor, sugar and ghee.  In
+the matter of diet there was dire offence in the preparation of his
+food; also in the method of partaking it.  Contamination was in the
+very shadow of the crowd that jostled him in his going and coming.  His
+appeal to his father met with no response.
+
+Resigning himself to his fate he did his best to become reconciled to
+his environment.  Occasionally he regarded the English men and women
+who surrounded him with something like envy.  They did not appear to be
+overshadowed by any gloomy apprehensions of the future.  Did they cover
+their fears and forebodings with a contentment that was assumed?  A few
+questions put to the Professor disabused his mind of that suspicion.
+They were as happy as they appeared to be, he was told.  Their creed
+reassured them and banished fear.  Christ, their great teacher, had
+given them definite promises in the Gospels that left them in no
+uncertainty.  The way was easy for any one who chose to follow it, and
+no man could complain that he was driven against his will into a state
+of sin and offence equivalent to that which troubled the exiled Hindu.
+Ananda, as he listened to the Professor, went so far as to envy the
+Christians their faith.  He had no intention of becoming a Christian,
+but there was undoubtedly relief for them in their immunity from the
+horrible dread of re-entering this world as a disgusting insect or a
+miserable beast of burden.  With eyes fixed eagerly upon Wenaston he
+listened for his comment on the situation.
+
+"You are the victims of circumstances over which you have no control.
+Your parents sent you to England without consulting your wishes.  Do
+you really believe that their action has caused you to sin and deprived
+you of your hope of heaven?"
+
+"Not our hope of the future," corrected Bopaul.  "When the offence is
+wiped out by propitiatory ceremonies we shall be restored to the favour
+of the gods."
+
+"What if you die before your return to India?"
+
+"Ah! then we die in sin, and the dreaded rebirth cannot be avoided; but
+we hope to escape such a catastrophe and to return safely to our
+country to perform the necessary expiatory ceremonies."
+
+"It is a monstrous belief!" cried Wenaston, moved in spite of himself
+as he glanced at Ananda overshadowed by fear, and at Coomara on whose
+countenance was written the hopeless resignation of the fatalist.  "It
+is incredible that a beneficent Deity can order a weary round of
+innumerable re-births in a lower instead of a higher existence, and
+condemn men to undergo this penance for deeds in which there is no evil
+intention; deeds for which they themselves are not responsible.  Even
+if you are fortunate enough at the end of unthinkable cycles of earthly
+existence to reach the limit, you can hope for nothing better than
+absorption in an impersonal Spirit.  To my mind such a fate is little
+short of annihilation."
+
+He looked at Coomara, who, with eyes averted and lips firmly closed,
+listened to these heretical suggestions unmoved.  As Wenaston spoke,
+the Hindu moved his seat, slipping into the opposite corner near the
+other window.  It was his method of showing that he did not wish to
+take any further part in the conversation.  Bopaul was eager to
+continue it, and Ananda could not resist the fascination that heresy
+had for his inquiring nature.  None of them ventured to comment on the
+opinions just enunciated; and Wenaston continued.
+
+"The thought of the extinction of the ego in man is nothing less than
+appalling.  I know that there are certain men among our Western
+students who have entertained the idea; they honestly try to persuade
+themselves that they believe in the cessation of every kind of life
+after death; but I cannot credit them with faith in such a theory.  To
+begin with, extinction is not possible to the human understanding.  The
+scientist pronounces extinction to be unknown with matter.  There is
+mutation, disintegration, but never extinction.  We have every reason
+to believe that the spiritual law follows on the same lines as the law
+of material life, although the theory is not supported by any known
+law.  There is undoubtedly implanted in every soul the belief in a
+hereafter.  Your faith leads you to expect rebirth in this world.  Mine
+is immeasurably superior.  It transcends all earthly----"
+
+His words were suddenly cut short.  The carriage rocked on its wheels
+and lurched on one side, throwing its occupants forward with great
+violence.  A moment later a steel monster crashed through the
+panelling, rending the cushions and splintering the wood.
+
+On it came with horrible celerity, catching Coomara in the corner where
+he had just settled himself.  Before he could struggle out of its
+reach, it pinned him down with its full weight.
+
+A cry that was stifled into a groan escaped his lips as the horrible
+buffer crushed the life out of his fragile body; Coomara the orthodox
+went to meet his fate, whatever it might be; the relentless cycle of
+inferior rebirths or the peace that passeth all understanding promised
+by a loving and merciful God.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Coomara, the orthodox, the punctilious observer of caste rule and
+ceremony, was dead.  He had died in sin before the cleansing rites
+could be performed which alone could restore the purity of his birth
+and reinstate him in his caste.
+
+Bopaul, when he had recovered from the stunned condition into which the
+accident threw him, fell back upon the deadening doctrine of fatalism.
+It was destiny, and there was no escape.  All-powerful fate had
+ordained it; first, that they should miss the earlier train which
+reached its journey's end in safety; secondly, that Coomara should make
+a move to the opposite side of the carriage and seat himself on the
+very spot to which the buffer penetrated.  The rest of the occupants
+escaped with bruises and a few cuts from broken glass.  What else could
+have brought about the occurrence but the direct will of the gods?
+
+To Ananda the affair was a great shock.  His nervous system was
+completely upset.  The memory of the scene recurred again and again
+during the day and the night, depriving him of sleep and rest.  It was
+not only the loss of his friend and companion in exile that grieved
+him, but the appalling thought that the dead man had been thrust into a
+cycle of rebirths and existences wherein pain, sordidness and
+unspeakable degradation would be his lot; where beauty, joy and comfort
+would find no part.  At that very moment the troubled spirit might be
+entering upon its new life with groans and sighs in squalid
+environment.  He recalled Coomara's careful observance of everything
+that related to his religion; his dislike of all that was not strictly
+orthodox; his unwillingness even to listen to heretical teaching.  No
+man could be more innocent of intention in transgressing caste rule
+than Coomara.  With his sensitive temperament, his pride of birth and
+caste, none could feel his punishment in a greater degree.  Day and
+night Ananda brooded and sorrowed, uncomforted by the oft-repeated
+assurance of Bopaul that it was the inevitable decree of fate; and that
+what was written on a man's forehead by the gods could not be averted.
+
+The Professor observed his distress and was troubled.  It affected the
+health of his guest, causing his appetite to fail.  Sleep came
+fitfully; and rest during the day seemed well-nigh impossible, as
+Ananda paced the room or wandered up and down the garden without
+purpose.  Everything in the shape of study ended.  The books were
+opened and the Professor began to lecture; but he soon discovered that
+he failed to interest Bopaul, and that Ananda's thoughts had wandered
+far from the subject in hand.  Under the impression that the mind might
+be relieved by speech, he encouraged both to talk of the trouble that
+had overtaken them.  He listened seriously and with patience as Ananda
+propounded the doctrine of transmigration.  At the conclusion the
+Professor combatted it, repeating all the arguments against the theory.
+
+"It is monstrous to ascribe such cruelty to the Deity," he said.  "You
+admit that God is all-powerful.  Why cannot you give Him credit for
+beneficence?  You call Him the All-Father.  If He is a father, at least
+allow Him the attributes of a father."
+
+"How can He break His own rules?" cried Bopaul.  "It is laid down by
+Divine authority in the Vedas that certain consequences must follow
+certain deeds.  It is a common law of life all over the world.  You
+hang your murderer, regardless of his repentance.  Can you cleanse the
+hand of the murderer from the blood in which he has dipped it?  You
+yourself admit that as the tree falls so must it lie; the tree falls
+not by its will nor by its merit, but by fate."
+
+"Christ came into the world to give us a new law," said the Professor.
+"It is true that by the old Mosaic teaching we punish the murderer.  If
+he dies repentant, we have the promise of Christ made on the Cross that
+his sins will assuredly be forgiven.  To the crucified thief He said,
+'This day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise.'  He gave the promise
+almost with his last breath, and the man to whom it was made had sinned
+wilfully and with design.  Is it likely that they who have transgressed
+unintentionally will have to suffer with those whose hearts are
+hardened?"
+
+"The thief on the Cross was a Christian already, probably, and a
+follower of your Prophet," said Bopaul.
+
+"There is nothing to show that he had followed Christ, or been
+influenced by His teaching.  All that he knew was that his strange
+companion was branded with no crime.  If Christ could promise
+forgiveness--which meant immunity from punishment--to a wilful criminal
+who was neither baptized nor a follower, is it not believable that He
+could forgive and secure immunity from punishment to one like Coomara,
+whose life was humanly blameless?  Our God is all-powerful,
+all-embracing, just and loving.  Through His Son He shows mercy to all,
+regardless of race and religion."
+
+"Is He--is He--stronger than Brahma?" asked Ananda, in a low voice.
+
+"He is stronger and mightier than all the gods in the Universe,"
+declared the Professor, in ringing tones that almost carried
+conviction.  Even Bopaul, the trifler, was impressed.  He rose from his
+seat and strolled to the window.
+
+"Our guru would warn us that it was sinful to listen to the claims of
+any other God but our own."
+
+As he spoke he turned and looked at Ananda with warning in his eye.
+
+"He who refuses to listen is a coward," said Twyford.  "In these days
+of tolerance and freedom of thought, the student asks for liberty to
+probe and sound every doctrine that is presented.  He demands a wide
+field that he may view from all sides, weigh and measure the new with
+the old.  Above all, he requires to be told all that there is to be
+learned; for, without hearing the arguments for and against, no man is
+able to form a just opinion."
+
+"In that case the guru ought to be here to represent and defend his
+side of the argument," said Bopaul.
+
+"You have already learned all that he could teach you.  Your people
+sent you to England that you might hear more; that you might be made
+acquainted with every question that is agitating the western world of
+science, of politics and of religion."
+
+"Ah, well!" replied Bopaul, in a lighter and more careless tone.  "We
+are acquiring knowledge under you, sir; we can sift and compare without
+apostacy, I hope.  Come for a walk, Ananda.  The fresh air will clear
+away the cobwebs from our brains and make us more profitable pupils."
+
+The Professor's grey eyes, full of sympathy and friendliness, rested on
+Ananda in silence.  He did not say, "Go; the walk will do you good."
+Nor did he reach out his hand for pen or book, a sign that he was ready
+to return to his own studies.  He waited, leaning back in the revolving
+chair in front of his writing-table.
+
+"No, thanks; I would rather stay in-doors.  The noise and traffic of
+the streets----"
+
+"You will never conquer your nerves by keeping away from the outside
+world.  It will have to be faced sooner or later; the sooner the
+better," said Bopaul, as his hand touched the door.
+
+Ananda turned from the speaker to the silent Professor, and gathered
+strength from his steady gaze.
+
+"Don't wait, Bopaul; I am not going out this morning."
+
+With a lifting of the shoulders the other left the room, shifting
+responsibility on to the Englishman.  Silence was maintained for some
+seconds after his departure.  Ananda broke it.
+
+"If only I could believe that this endless cycle of rebirths need not
+be, I should be happier," he said.
+
+The pathetic appeal for some ray of hope went straight to Twyford's
+heart.  Pity and an intense desire to help in spiritual trouble roused
+the man, and he poured forth the doctrines of comfort that console the
+dying Christian.  It was not done with the intention of converting, but
+in the merciful desire of bringing some small consolation to the
+despairing man to whom the fear of the future made life in the present
+intolerable.  The fate that had overtaken Coomara might at any moment,
+whether at home or abroad, be Ananda's.
+
+For more than an hour they talked, and the gloom on Ananda's face
+lightened.
+
+"It is most comforting as you put it, but--it is not my creed," he
+said.  There was a pause, and he added, "I cannot change my faith."
+
+"I do not ask you to change it.  Is it not possible, however, in these
+days of advanced thought that you may be able to modify some of the
+fossilised tenets of your religion?  The spirit of reform is abroad,
+and a Hindu may become a member of the Brahmo-Somaj or the Ayra-Somaj
+without losing caste, without cutting himself adrift from his
+community, his family.  There is no hurry.  The fathers may rest
+content to think of these things.  Their sons will act."
+
+There was a sound of a footstep outside.  The door opened, and Bopaul
+appeared.
+
+"Lunch is ready, sir.  I am sure you must be tired talking so long.
+You should have driven that foolish Ananda out into the air and
+sunshine, instead of letting him waste your time."
+
+"I don't think that the time has been wasted," replied the Professor,
+kindly.
+
+Bopaul shot a swift glance at Ananda, but learned nothing except the
+fact that the latter was ill at ease under his scrutiny.  The lunch
+bell rang, and Ananda hurried to his room.  As he disappeared Bopaul
+said in a tone that was unusually earnest for him.
+
+"Sir, remember your promise to his parents.  Forgive me for reminding
+you of it.  I know his people, and what a terrible thing it will be for
+them if his faith is shaken.  He is their only son."
+
+"Believe me, I have not broken faith with them.  I have been preaching
+reform rather than conversion, although I admit that it would please me
+better if it had been the other way about.  Ananda must have led a very
+sheltered life in his youth, and this I fancy is his first great
+trouble.  He needs help, and it is difficult to give it under the
+peculiar circumstances in which I find myself."
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+The Professor was not far wrong when he said that Ananda's childhood
+had been sheltered.
+
+Born of wealthy parents and the only son, surrounded with every luxury
+that love could devise, he had been guarded from trouble of all kind.
+He, on his part, had been amenable to his parents' wishes, obedient and
+gentle, always ready to be guided.  Content to be ruled, his will power
+lay dormant, and there seemed little likelihood of it being roused into
+activity; for the desires of those whose authority he recognised never
+clashed with his own.  The life of his father, Pantulu Iyer, had been
+smooth, as is the case with many men of high caste families.  The life
+of the son promised to be the same.
+
+At the age of twelve he was married to Coomara's sister, three years
+his junior.  When he was seventeen the marriage was consummated, and
+the girl took up her residence with his parents.  It was a happy home,
+free from strife, and the daughter-in-law found no difficulty in
+fitting herself into her place.  She shared the love that the parents
+in the fullness of their affection showered upon their son.
+
+When Ananda was nineteen and Dorama, his wife, sixteen, she presented
+him with a son.  If anything could have been added to the cup of joy
+that was already full, it was this.
+
+"Now we are assured of the completion of our happiness and the
+fulfilment of our desire," said his father.  "We may allow ourselves to
+consider your future.  One day we hope to see you take a prominent part
+in the government of the country.  Possibly you may rise to occupy a
+place on the Maharajah's council.  These honours cannot be attained
+without a journey to England."
+
+"Is it necessary, my father?" asked Ananda, watching his young wife as
+she sat on the fine grass matting with the baby on her lap.  He would
+have been more than content to continue in the pleasant backwater of
+domestic life without seeking new scenes.
+
+"It is necessary in these days of progress.  His Highness himself takes
+occasional voyages across the ocean to see the western world with his
+own eyes."
+
+"His caste is not our caste," objected Ananda, with the unconscious
+superiority of a man of better birth.
+
+"Still, his example is to be imitated."
+
+"Not without loss of caste."
+
+"Caste can be restored on your return.  The penances and penalties are
+lighter than they used to be."
+
+"But the breaking of caste is none the less serious for the lightening
+of the penalties."
+
+"That may be," assented Pantulu.  "All the same, it is imperative in
+these days that men should see something of the world outside their own
+State; and there is no doubt that those who have travelled in Europe,
+and lived for a time in England, are preferred in the council to those
+who have had no experience.  Having thought the matter well over, my
+son, your mother and I have decided on this step.  You will sail from
+Bombay in April next; and it is proposed by their families to send
+Coomara and Bopaul with you."
+
+Ananda's father consulted with Wenaston, who had recently been
+appointed as Principal of the large college at Chirapore, as to the
+best place of residence in London; with the result that the three
+Hindus found themselves committed to the care of Professor Twyford.
+
+Bopaul had no qualms over his broken caste.  He accepted the decree of
+exile with pleasure, and determined to make the most of his
+opportunities.  He intended to amuse himself as well as read with the
+Professor; and he carried out his programme, the only shadow to cross
+his path later being the death of Coomara.
+
+Shortly before they left for England, the guru paid them a visit.  The
+Vedas were quoted and the laws of Manu repeated with many warnings
+against falling away from the faith.
+
+"You are going to a foreign land, the home of revolutionary teaching.
+Be careful how you listen, and let no one undermine the instructions
+that I with divine authority have given you.  Attempts will be made;
+you must resist them.  Here in this State of Chirakul we still enjoy
+the great boon of an hereditary ruler.  Under his government we have
+successfully repelled the innovations that have been introduced into
+British India.  If fate should decree that any of you enter the service
+of our Maharajah, it will rest with you to help to preserve our ancient
+faith."
+
+Coomara looked up at the tall figure that stood before him, and his
+glance fell beneath the fiery eyes.  He dropped at the feet of the
+teacher and pressed his forehead to the ground with words of worship
+and adoration such as might have been addressed to the Deity.  In his
+eyes the guru was God Himself, neither His messenger nor prophet; and
+as such he bowed himself in deep humility and worshipped.  As he lay
+there a voice like the voice of a god reached him.
+
+"My son, I do not forbid your ears to listen nor your eyes to see.
+What you hear and see will be of use in the work you will have to do on
+your return.  A knowledge of the enemy is necessary to success."
+
+"What work, oh swami?  May thy servant know?"
+
+"The preservation of our great religion, the emancipation of our
+country, the elevation of our nation; the casting out of a race of
+demons who would have us believe that they are spirits of light.  May
+they be accursed with their Christ!"
+
+He broke into imprecations against the supreme power that claimed
+sovereignty over the Maharajah of Chirakul and against the Founder of
+the Christian faith.
+
+"Swami, is it your decree that I should take this voyage across the
+black water--that I should break my caste?"
+
+"Only by going to England can you ever hope to rise to a position
+wherein you may help the cause that we have at heart."
+
+"And if I die in that foreign land, swami?"
+
+"You will be born again to suffering and degradation," said the
+inexorable voice.
+
+"Swami, swami!  Let me stay in my father's house."
+
+"It cannot be.  It is the will of the gods!" replied the guru.  "My
+son," he added, in softer accents, "be not afraid.  You will return in
+safety to help the cause we have at heart and be blessed by the holy
+Brahmans."
+
+Ananda and Bopaul heard the words and remembered them afterwards.  "You
+will be born again to toil and suffering and degradation."
+
+And they believed them; for had they not been spoken by the guru, in
+whom dwelt the divine afflatus?
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+Dr. Wenaston shortened his stay in town after the accident, and
+cancelled his social engagements.  The death of Coomara affected him,
+though in a lesser degree.  He developed an aversion to public
+gatherings and to the assemblage of a crowd in street or train or on
+the field of sport.  A vague feeling of apprehension destroyed his
+pleasure, and he recognised with dismay that he, too, was suffering
+from nerves.
+
+There was only one remedy, and that was to seek comparative solitude
+for a while until the nervous system should recover its equilibrium.
+
+His sister suggested a leisurely motor trip into the depths of the
+country.  They could choose their road and regulate their pace to
+please themselves.
+
+They wandered through the south and west of England, fortunate in their
+weather and choice of route.  When it suited them they remained at a
+quiet little seaside place for a week or two; or in a still more sleepy
+country town, with the happy result that Wenaston entirely recovered
+his health mentally and bodily.
+
+The summer passed and he sent his sister home to make her preparation
+for the voyage to India, while he went to his club for the same object.
+He had not seen the Professor since he led Ananda and Bopaul back to
+his house in dazed and prostrate condition on that memorable afternoon,
+and had told the story of the accident.
+
+On his arrival in town he wrote to Mrs. Twyford, saying that he would
+come to lunch on the following Sunday.
+
+It was one of those bright autumn days, when the sun touched every
+object with a golden light.  Even the city of smoke and fog was
+rendered beautiful in its dress of grey and gold.  The streets,
+thronged on week-day with traffic, were empty except during the
+half-hour before service.  Church-bells rang out their call in all
+directions, summoning their eclectic congregations to the morning
+services.  The sound of the great cathedral chimes dominated them all.
+
+Wenaston stood for a minute or two on the steps of St. Paul's
+listening, that he might retain the echo in his ears and carry it away
+into exile.  Temple-bells might clang around him, and the
+ding-ding-ding of the Christian Church bell call him on Sunday; but
+nowhere throughout the East would a melody like that sent forth from
+the dome of St. Paul's ever ring in his ear.
+
+He entered the cathedral and moved swiftly up the centre aisle.  The
+space under the dome was filling fast.  He turned to the right and
+found a seat near the pulpit.
+
+The chimes ceased, and the big bell monotoned the final invitation to
+the increasing crowd.  Before it stopped the organ pealed forth the
+first chords of the voluntary.
+
+If the truth is to be recorded, Wenaston had not gone to church with
+any conscious desire to humble himself in prayer, nor to lift his soul
+to God in praise.  The melody of the choir succeeded the song of the
+bells.  He listened passively, revelling in the perfect harmony and
+abandoning himself to the soothing, almost sensuous feeling of peace
+and contentment brought by the music and environment.  He knelt and
+stood, following mechanically the example of his neighbours; and when
+the organ ceased and the preacher entered the pulpit, he rested
+motionless in his chair, yielding himself to the luxury of the
+sensations that had been roused by the music.
+
+At the conclusion of the sermon, eager for more of that which so soon
+would be unattainable, he determined to remain to the end of the
+service.  A large number of people left the cathedral, and he moved up
+nearer to the choir, with the object of securing a better seat, but
+with no intention of communicating.
+
+When the departing congregation had cleared away, his eyes were drawn
+towards a kneeling figure in front.  Something in its outline was
+familiar.  The head, with short abundant black hair, was bowed in
+silent prayer.  The worshipper was no idle visitor; nor had he come to
+have his ears tickled or his senses steeped in superb harmonies.  The
+music that echoed through arch and aisle was unheeded in the effort to
+raise the spirit to God.  The man was there to pray, and his prayerful
+attitude was unchanged until the first chords of the _Gloria_ were
+struck.  As prayer passed into a glorious song of praise, the
+worshipper lifted his head and Wenaston caught a glimpse of the
+features.  Astounded beyond measure--he could not have explained
+why--he recognised Ananda.
+
+When the service ended he rose, and allowing the Hindu to pass out
+before him, caught him up at the west door.  Ananda's eyes were not
+upon the crowd that jostled him, and he did not observe Wenaston's
+presence.  In their dark depths shone the light of a great happiness
+mingled with that exaltation which may be seen in the eyes of the
+convert.  Wenaston's surprise was not lessened as he noted it.
+
+"You!  Ananda!"
+
+The Hindu turned at once and held out his hand.
+
+"Dr. Wenaston!  We thought that you were still in the south of England!"
+
+"I have been there; but my leave is getting short, and I have come to
+town to prepare for my journey back to India.  Mrs. Twyford did not
+tell you that I am to lunch with you all to-day?"
+
+"She said nothing about it."
+
+Wenaston gazed at him with searching eyes.
+
+"How is it that I find you in St. Paul's?" he asked, adding as an
+after-thought.  "And not as a spectator."
+
+"Because I have taken a momentous step.  I have become a Christian."
+
+"Is this the Professor's doing?" asked Wenaston, after a slight pause.
+
+"No," replied Ananda, readily.  "The Professor had nothing to do with
+my act."
+
+"Tell me about it."
+
+They walked along the deserted city streets where a few well-dressed
+folk were strolling and an occasional omnibus rolled noisily by.
+
+"After Coomara's death I was very much troubled.  I could not bear to
+think of his fate.  Sometimes I was overwhelmed with grief on his
+account; sometimes I was beside myself with terror on my own, lest a
+like fate should overtake me.  It became more than I could bear.  The
+Professor was very kind.  He tried to console me with some of his own
+doctrines, and suggested that I should draw comfort from them without
+necessarily adopting Christianity.  As you know, it was one of the
+conditions imposed by my father on the Professor that there should be
+no attempt on his part at proselytising.  Being an honourable man, he
+kept faith with my father."
+
+"How did it come about, then?"
+
+"A curious thing happened.  One of the English students living in the
+house introduced me to the mother and sister of the aviator who was
+killed that day.  In my grief and trouble over Coomara's fate I had
+almost forgotten the accident.  I spoke to them about it, and told them
+of my own sorrow.  They were goodness itself.  To my astonishment I saw
+that they were bearing their grief with a resignation that put me to
+shame.  It was their belief--their unshaken faith in the future that
+gave them strength.  They were so sure, so certain that their beloved
+one was safe with God and happier than he could ever be on earth.  I
+marvelled at their peace of mind, and asked myself why I should not
+share it.  Sorrow had made them very tender towards the trouble of
+others.  In short, it was through them that I changed my religion.
+They introduced me to their vicar.  Unknown to the Professor, I put
+myself under instruction, and three weeks ago I was baptized."
+
+"Without consulting your guardian?"
+
+"Without his knowledge.  He knows now.  I did not wish to compromise
+him, and I begged my friends to keep my secret until I was baptized.  I
+am of age, and can please myself."
+
+He looked up at Wenaston, as if to hear what he had to say, and whether
+he approved.
+
+"You ought to have told Twyford."
+
+Ananda's hands were lifted in a little gesture of deprecation.
+
+"I was afraid, afraid of losing my new-found happiness.  I was afraid
+of opposition from Bopaul if he knew.  I was afraid lest the Professor
+should want me to write first to my father and obtain his consent.  I
+was afraid----"
+
+He paused, and Wenaston remarked with a gravity in which there was
+concern and doubt--
+
+"You may in truth say that you have taken a momentous step.  God give
+you strength to be no longer afraid."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Chirapore, the capital of the large native state of Chirakul was
+situated on plateau land.  In the months of March and April the
+thermometer rose above ninety degrees; but the rest of the year the
+climate was subtropical in character, and accounted cool as compared
+with the plains.
+
+The plateau was bounded on one side by hills--spurs of the Western
+Ghats--where the virgin forest nestled in the ravines and valleys, and
+big game wandered free and unmolested by the war of extermination that
+progressive man too often wages in his encroachment upon nature.
+
+Between the hills and Chirapore lay fields of grain and topes of fruit
+trees, the latter always green in the subtropical climate; there was a
+continual passing from seed-time to harvest, from flower to fruit
+without the paralysing inactivity induced by the hard winters of the
+temperate zone, or the fiery tropical summers of the torrid regions.
+
+The city itself was built upon undulating ground, its centre being the
+old fort.  Before British rule was established the inhabitants of
+Chirapore lived as near to the fort as was possible, seeking protection
+from the guns; but in later days, when there was no longer any fear of
+Mahratta horsemen, they ventured further afield, and the town was
+extended upon the smiling plateau in nobler lines.  Handsome roads
+lined with private houses or shops intersected the suburbs.  Many of
+the larger dwellings were older than the roads, and stood within their
+own grounds, a wall dividing them from the public way and ensuring the
+privacy essential to the happiness of caste families.
+
+It was in one of these substantial mansions that Ananda's father, known
+as Pantulu Iyer, lived.  It had belonged to the family for several
+generations.  In course of time Ananda would inherit it with the silk
+farms and looms by which Pantulu and his immediate ancestors had
+accumulated a considerable fortune.  As is usual with families of good
+caste and wealth, the members were numerous, including relatives of
+near and distant degree.  There was no lack of room for them in the
+large house; and many of them gave their services in the domestic work
+of cooking and housekeeping.
+
+Pantulu's wife, a woman of character, full of pride and caste
+prejudice, ruled the household with a firm but not unkind hand.  Her
+position was strengthened by the fact that she was her husband's first
+and only wife.  She had given him a son, and he was satisfied.  Ananda
+had fulfilled all their dearest expectations; and as has already been
+stated, the parents had sent him to England to complete an education
+that should eventually fit him for a post in the Maharajah's
+Government, an assistant-commissionership; and later, perhaps, a place
+on the Council.  To a father's ambition for his son there is no limit.
+Pantulu saw no reason why his son should not one day step into the
+Dewan's shoes should an opportunity occur.
+
+The time approached for the return of the son of the house.  News had
+been received of Coomara's death, but not a word had been said of the
+effect it had produced upon Ananda, nor of the grave consequences that
+had ensued.
+
+Bopaul, travelling with his friend, was careful to drop no hint.  He
+knew intuitively that the step Ananda had taken could not fail to rouse
+a disastrous storm.  Bopaul had a fastidious dislike to storms; and the
+longer the announcement of the change of religion could be deferred the
+better pleased he would be.  He was in no way responsible for the
+actions of the other; but it was possible that he might be drawn into
+the trouble that it must inevitably raise.
+
+During the voyage out the subject of Ananda's change of religion was
+not mentioned between the two friends.  Bopaul felt strongly that there
+was nothing to be said one way or the other.  The deed was done and
+could not be undone.  If the step had only been under contemplation and
+not irrevocably taken, he might have urged delay, consultation with the
+head of the family, consideration for the feelings of others besides
+himself.  It was too late for all that; therefore it was useless to
+discuss it, and he kept a discreet silence.
+
+Ananda attended the services held on Sunday for the benefit of the
+passengers and ship's officers.  No one spoke to him on the subject of
+religion or attempted to win his confidence.  His history was not known
+nor were his companions aware, with the exception of Bopaul, that he
+had accepted Christianity.  He followed the service reverently; and if
+any one troubled himself with conjectures, he probably came to the
+conclusion that the young man had received baptism.  For all that was
+known he might have been born a Christian.
+
+Bopaul glanced at the peaceful face of his friend when he rejoined him
+on deck after the service, and wondered if Ananda realised what was
+before him.  Of a nature inclined to shrink from any violent display of
+emotion, how would he meet the turbulent passions that would be roused
+in every member of his family as soon as the news was told.  Did he
+realise all that was involved?  He had been well instructed in the
+doctrines of Hinduism by his guru; and he had duly performed the
+various ceremonies prescribed at different periods of childhood and
+youth by the laws of his religion.  What thought was it that stirred in
+his mind as he leaned on the taffrail and looked pensively down at the
+seething white froth churned by the passage of the big ship through the
+waters of the Indian Ocean?
+
+Bopaul would have lifted his eyebrows in amused surprise could he have
+seen the figure that filled the mental vision of his friend.  It was
+none other than Dorama, the young wife to whom after a long absence he
+was returning.
+
+When the marriage took place bride and bridegroom were but children.
+The depths of their emotions were unruffled by the honeymoon which was
+spent, according to custom, three years later under the paternal roof.
+Two or three years of placid married life followed, during which Ananda
+was still absorbed in his studies, and Dorama was engaged in
+housewifely duties under the supervision of an autocratic
+mother-in-law, who was not unkind, but rigidly exacting, with no
+leaning whatever towards modern innovations.
+
+Then came the birth of the son.  Ananda found it a little difficult to
+believe that he had really attained the much-desired estate of
+paternity.  He let his eyes rest on the girl-mother and his child with
+wondrous delight.  The sight of them stirred him strangely, and awoke
+new longings that he did not understand.  Those longings were the
+instinctive desires of the animal man to claim his mate for himself;
+and to carry her and her baby to some remote fastness, where he could
+hide her from the swarms of relatives who in their joy seemed to think
+that she belonged to them rather than to him.  He wanted to gloat over
+her beauty, her wifehood and her motherhood, and to exult in sole
+possession.  What did it mean?  It almost awed him in its strength and
+insistence.  Surely he was not rebelling against the time-honoured
+custom of the family life!  He was not seeking to leave the home of his
+fathers!
+
+Then came the journey to England and the separation.  The underlying,
+scarcely recognised discontent vanished with the excitement of travel;
+but the memory of Dorama in her new character did not fade.  On the
+contrary, it grew clearer and more beautiful the longer he cherished
+it, gathering romance and raising the wife far above all other women.
+
+He determined that he would ask his father to give him a house of his
+own on his return with a suitable establishment over which his wife
+could rule.  The plan commended itself for more reasons than one.
+Since he had changed his religion and adopted many western habits as
+well, his parents, who were people of discernment, could not fail to
+understand the necessity for some such arrangement.  They might not
+like it; they might not be pleased that those western habits were
+adopted; they would assuredly disapprove of the change of religion; but
+when they comprehended that the changes had been effected to increase
+the comfort and happiness, spiritually as well as bodily, of their son,
+they would become reconciled.  In sending him to England they must have
+been aware of the risks he ran of assimilating the ideas of the people
+among whom he had to live in such close intimacy.  The doubts that
+troubled the keener-witted Bopaul did not therefore ruffle his
+serenity.  He had no forebodings of the thunder-clouds that were
+gathering.
+
+Pantulu, in company with Bopaul's father, went to Bombay to meet the
+mail boat.  They decided not to go on board, but to await the coming of
+the travellers on the landing-stage.  As Ananda and his companion
+stepped ashore with the throng of passengers the two men pressed
+forward.  The sons folded their hands in reverence, and then extended
+the right in the clasp that is general in these days all over the
+world.  The greeting attracted no attention, so quiet was it in its
+nature; but underneath the simple formalities lay a feeling too deep
+for words.  Later, when the luggage had been disposed of and they were
+in the privacy of their own sitting-room in the hotel, Ananda, who had
+been unusually silent, spoke.
+
+"I have something to say, my beloved and honourable father."
+
+At the words Bopaul sprang to his feet.
+
+"Come, sir," he said to his father, "we will leave his Excellency
+Pantulu Iyer with my friend Ananda to talk over their private
+affairs----"
+
+Before the older man could rise, Ananda said hastily--
+
+"Stop, Bopaul!  I wish you to remain and hear what I have to say.
+Possibly I may have to ask you to confirm my statement.  My father may
+otherwise find it difficult of belief."
+
+Bopaul reseated himself, looking ill at ease.  His father, influenced
+by a suddenly roused curiosity, which he had no scruples in satisfying,
+showed a disinclination to move.  The eyes of both parents were fixed
+in surprise upon the sons, and they waited breathless to hear what
+communication Ananda had to make to his father.
+
+Pantulu had removed his turban and replaced it by a velvet cap that
+covered his shaven head and the knot of hair on the crown.  He had
+drawn his feet up beneath him, and his thoughts, if they were occupied
+at all, were busy building up a gilded future, in which his son was the
+chief figure.  It took some seconds to detach his mind from his
+ambitious visions and concentrate it upon the fact that Ananda had
+something to say.  In his old-fashioned opinion, children listened; it
+was for the parents to speak.
+
+With mild astonishment he fixed his eyes upon his son.  No suspicion of
+the blow that was impending crossed his mind.  Doubtless Ananda was
+going to suggest an extension of the visit to Bombay that they might
+see a little of the Presidency town before going south.
+
+"My father, I hope that it will not trouble you to learn that during my
+residence in England I have adopted many of the ways of that country."
+
+"They will soon pass off, my son, when you return home and find
+yourself in the family once more.  It is well to have a knowledge
+now-a-days of western customs, many of which the Maharajah himself has
+adopted.  The time may come when you will often find yourself in his
+presence.  Your English experience will serve you well on those
+occasions."
+
+Ananda listened in silence without interrupting the speaker.  Bopaul
+showed more uneasiness, rising from his chair and moving restlessly
+about the room as though longing to escape.
+
+"I have learned to like the ways I have adopted--and the dress."
+
+Ananda glanced down at the neat frock coat and trousers that became his
+figure and set it off to advantage.
+
+"Our Maharajah wears the same kind of garments.  There is no reason why
+you should not retain the dress in public."
+
+"I intend to retain the dress and habits of English life," he replied
+with decision.  Then, after a slight pause that seemed to the listeners
+to be shadowed by some strange unknown danger, he continued: "But this
+is not all.  After much thought and deliberation I have also adopted
+the religion of England."
+
+A dead silence greeted this announcement.  Its full meaning did not
+immediately strike the listeners.  Bopaul glanced from one to the
+other.  The expression on the face of his own father held his
+attention.  It was a curious mixture of astonishment, dismay, and
+incredulity.  The jaw dropped; the eyes opened to their widest extent,
+and the brows were like two rainbows, so arched had they become.
+Bopaul had that insane desire to laugh which seizes men and women at a
+crisis fraught with possible disaster; he turned his back on the
+company to hide his trembling lips.  An inarticulate sound made him
+look round.  It came from his own parent, who struggled in vain to
+frame a question.
+
+Bopaul divined its import.  Was he, too, a renegade, a 'vert?  He
+controlled his lips and strangled his ill-timed mirth.  A sign in the
+negative set his father's mind at rest on that point, and enabled the
+older man to give his undivided attention to what was passing between
+Pantulu and his son.
+
+Pantulu, like his friend, had been struck dumb by the shock of Ananda's
+statement.  He moistened his lips, and after a few ineffectual attempts
+accomplished articulation.  His voice sounded strange and unlike his
+usual tone.
+
+"You have--adopted--the religion of--England, my son!  I fail to grasp
+your meaning!"
+
+"I have become a Christian."
+
+Ananda spoke clearly, but with a doggedness that seemed a little
+forced.  Under his calmness lurked timidity.  Bopaul detected it and
+again his lips quivered, this time with the ghost of a scornful smile.
+It required a magnificent courage and enormous endurance for a caste
+man to make such a change.  If he knew Ananda aright his friend had no
+great store of either courage or endurance.  His Christianity would
+soon be knocked out of him when the family had him back again in the
+old home away from foreign influences, unless he, Bopaul, was very much
+mistaken.
+
+Pantulu dropped his feet to the ground, raised himself by the arms of
+the lounge on which he was seated, and rose without haste to his full
+height.  The folds of his soft white muslin cloth fell over his lower
+limbs, the flowing drapery giving him an oriental dignity that was
+patriarchal.  He wore a dark-blue serge coat, a white shirt and linen
+collar, with tie to match the coat.  Everything was of the best quality
+and fitted his aristocratic well-made figure without fault.  On the
+little finger of his right hand shone a diamond of rare beauty, his
+only ornament.  The sparkle of the gem caught Ananda's eye as the hand
+was slightly raised in growing horror.
+
+"A Christian! a Christian!" he repeated.  Then lowering his hand he
+seemed to shake off the horror by an effort of will.  "I have not
+understood you, my son.  There is some mistake.  Whatever strange
+customs you may have thought fit to adopt during your stay in England,
+you must drop them now.  They have served their purpose, and they must
+be thrown aside like the strange weeds that as a child you gathered in
+the jungle, and cast upon the dust heap on your return before entering
+the house.  You have returned to the home of your fathers a Hindu, an
+orthodox Hindu, a Vishnuvite.  Even now at this moment the Swami, our
+guru, waits at our house in Chirapore to see the ceremonies performed
+that will restore your caste and purify you from the pollution of these
+western habits."
+
+The voice grew firmer until it rang out like a sharply-struck bell.
+Yet for all its firmness there was a strain of desperate entreaty
+running through it, as though the speaker waited in passionate hope for
+confirmation of his assertions.  That confirmation did not come.
+Ananda, as he stood before his father, shifted uneasily from one foot
+to the other; and as the elder ceased speaking he said falteringly--
+
+"No caste ceremonies will be required.  I have given up Hinduism.  I
+have been baptised and received into the English Church.  It is not
+necessary to look so serious over it, honoured father.  All that will
+be needed can be done without difficulty.  It will be advisable to give
+me a separate house and establishment for myself and my wife and son,
+since our presence will naturally create trouble for my mother in the
+preparation of food.  I am also prepared to find that many members of
+your household may demand my exclusion from the family circle."
+
+Ananda's even voice appeared to have a paralysing effect upon both the
+older men; for they were silent.  Bopaul's father was the first to find
+his tongue.
+
+"My friend, I am sorry for this.  It is an unspeakable misfortune."
+
+Pity, unsolicited and unexpected, and equally unwelcome, broke the
+spell and opened the floodgates of wrath.  Again the diamond flashed as
+the paternal hand was raised.
+
+"A Christian!  My son a cursed Christian! an outcaste! an alien! lower
+than the pariah, more loathed than the punchama sweeper!  Oh! what have
+I done that the gods should curse me thus?  What sin have I committed
+that I should be thus afflicted and punished?  My son! my only son!"
+Once more a desperate effort was made to reject, to disbelieve the
+terrible news.  "My little son!" he used the pet name by which Ananda
+had been known as a child, and it came from his lips with infinite
+tenderness.  "My little son! tell me you have but joked, and that you
+have been playing upon your poor old father's fears.  Be satisfied that
+you have startled and frightened him.  Now reassure him! restore him to
+happiness, my little son!  Be kind and tender in your strong young
+manhood to one who is growing old and whose life is bound up in yours."
+
+He placed his hands together, palm to palm, and bowed his proud head in
+humble entreaty.  Bopaul once more turned his back upon the company and
+strode towards one of the windows.  The sight of Pantulu's grief and
+distress pained him more than he cared to admit.  Ananda did not hear
+the appeal unmoved.  Tears sprang into his eyes, and he too averted his
+gaze from a sight that sent a sharp knife through his heart; but, like
+all weak natures, he possessed a strain of obstinacy that came now to
+his assistance.  Bopaul, who had more force of character, could not
+have listened to such an appeal from his father without wavering in his
+determination, no matter how great might have been his courage.  With
+Ananda it had a contrary effect.  It distressed and pained him beyond
+expression; but it strengthened rather than weakened his resolve, and
+created a desire to justify his action.  He answered firmly and
+decisively, and in that answer his father recognised the obstinacy of
+the perverse boy who so often succeeded in getting his own way in spite
+of his timid nature.
+
+"It is true.  I am a Christian, and I intend to remain a Christian.  I
+am sorry if it hurts you, my father; but I have arrived at man's estate
+and must judge for myself.  I have taken the step deliberately and with
+due thought and consideration."
+
+"This is the Professor's doing, him to whom I entrusted you!" cried
+Pantulu, his wrath rising hotly.
+
+"No, it is not!  The Professor had nothing to do with it!" replied
+Ananda, in a sharp, clear voice.  He turned to Bopaul, who was still
+standing with his back to them.  "Reassure my father on this point,
+please.  Had Professor Twyford or his family anything to do with the
+step I have taken?"
+
+"To the best of my belief, none.  He showed as much astonishment when
+you announced the change as I felt myself.  What was more, he was
+terribly disturbed by the news."
+
+Pantulu made no comment on this confirmation of his son's story, and
+Ananda began again.
+
+"It happened in this way----"
+
+"Silence!" thundered his father, in a voice that made them all start.
+"When the dhoby's donkey falls into the tank, does it bring him to life
+again to explain what caused his foot to slip?  Thou art cursed!
+cursed! cursed!  No longer shalt thou be a son of mine!  I am
+childless!  Go from my sight, and never let my eyes fall upon thee
+again!"
+
+He used the language usually addressed to inferiors, and it stung.
+
+"Let me explain, most excellent father----"
+
+"Call me not father, son of a dog!"
+
+"If you would only let me speak, I can----"
+
+"Sooner would I listen to the 'untouchable' who cleans the gutters and
+carries away the contents of the dustbin!  Go!"
+
+He moved towards him threateningly.  Ananda stepped back a pace or two,
+but did not show any sign of leaving the room.
+
+"It is not fair to judge any one unheard," he began again; but he was
+not allowed to finish the sentence.  Pantulu, beside himself with rage,
+advanced with uplifted hand and brought his fist down upon his son's
+face.  The diamond caught his lip and tore it open.  Blood flowed and
+dropped upon the white shirt-front, leaving a large red stain.
+
+Bopaul rushed forward, interposing himself between the two, and pushed
+his friend through the doorway leading to his bedroom.
+
+The outraged father glared after his son and panted out in gasps--
+
+"Never in the whole course of the boy's life have I laid a hand upon
+him.  What have I done!  What have I done!"
+
+He sank down into his chair and covered his face with his hands.  Joy,
+ambition, paternal pride, all had been extinguished, leaving him a
+broken and miserable man.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+For the past twelve months the family of Pantulu Iyer had been
+preparing for the return of the son and heir.  In the first place
+Gunga, Ananda's mother, had undertaken a pilgrimage to the large
+Vishnuvite temple at Srirungam, near Trichinopoly.  She was a proud
+woman, full of energy, just but strict in the performance of duties,
+religious as well as social.  She demanded of others the same rigid
+adherence to rule, and she countenanced no indulgence nor slackness in
+young or old among her dependents.  By her decree Dorama and her little
+son were to accompany her.
+
+The journey would have been easy by rail; but Pantulu's wife was not a
+woman to look for ease and comfort where ceremonial was concerned.  She
+chose the way of her ancestors and elected to travel by road as they
+had travelled in the old days before the fire-carriage revolutionised
+the Indian methods of journeying.
+
+It took many days, even though she used her own powerful bullocks.
+Besides the coach there was a country cart which carried the
+cooking-pots, bedding, and her own caste servants.  The people of the
+villages through which she passed inquired the name of the gracious
+lady who honoured their poor hamlet by her presence.  The reply was
+given by the drivers; she was the wife of a rich silk merchant of
+Chirapore, carrying offerings to the big temple at Srirungam.  Why did
+she make offerings?  Was her husband sick?  No; it was because her son
+who had been to England was returning, and she was anxious to enlist
+the favour of the gods so that he might be restored to her in safety.
+The country folk received the information with much salaaming, and
+expressed a hope that she would be favoured.  They supplied her with
+eggs and milk; and admired the fine handsome white cattle that drew her
+coach, praising the drooping ears and swinging dew-laps in loud tones
+that were intended to penetrate the curtains that hung before the
+windows of the carriage.
+
+At the big temple she was honourably received.  The gifts she brought
+were presented by her tiny grandson in the absence of any other male
+member of the family.
+
+The little Royan, named after his great-grandfather, was decked in
+purple velvet and crimson satin; and his small person was laden with
+jewels of gold and precious stones.  The soft baby hand, timidly
+extended to the awe-inspiring mahunt--who graciously deigned to receive
+the offerings in person--was weighed down by the solid gold lime
+resting on his palm.  The great man smiled as he stooped and received
+the substantial gift.  By the side of the child stood his grandmother,
+erect in her hale middle-age.  Her limbs had not yet lost the lines of
+a comely youth, nor the features their haughty beauty.
+
+Half hidden behind her was the smaller figure of Dorama, her eyes cast
+down, her rich silk cloth, plain in colour and pattern, veiling her
+lately-developed form.  The eyes of the mahunt dwelt upon her as he
+asked a few questions.  He learned that her husband was in England, and
+would be returning some time during the year.
+
+"She will rejoin him and give you another grandson to rejoice your
+heart," said the mahunt.
+
+"It may be so if the gods will," replied Gunga in a tone that seemed to
+dismiss the subject.
+
+"Should your hopes not be fulfilled you must make another pilgrimage to
+the temple, and she must keep vigil before the god.  It cannot fail to
+bring about the desired result."
+
+To this proposition the elder lady made no reply, and the mahunt
+retired, casting another glance of approval upon Dorama.
+
+After a few days' rest, Gunga returned as she went, making the journey
+by easy stages.  The nights were spent at the various rest-houses on
+the road, where her attendants cooked the food and saw to her comfort.
+She chose a time when the weather promised to be fine, and it did not
+disappoint her.  The expedition was a pleasant jaunt, which Dorama
+enjoyed more than a little.
+
+On her return home Gunga superintended other preparations considered
+necessary for the occasion.  The whole household--with all its
+dependents and caste servants numbering over fifty--had to be fitted
+out with new clothes.  The little close-fitting jackets of bright
+colours affected by the women were fashioned by careful tailors.  Men's
+coats of brilliant cloth, lined with silk and richly embroidered with
+gold, were put in hand.  New lengths of muslin of the finest quality
+were purchased after careful and deliberate bargaining; and many of the
+family jewels were reset.
+
+It was in these heirlooms that Dorama was most interested.  According
+to time-honoured custom among modest Hindu women, she had laid aside
+her jewels on her husband's departure; nor was she permitted to use the
+golden saffron powder that is supposed to enhance the beauty of the
+Indian skin.  With his return all restriction of self-adornment would
+end; and the finest and best of the jewels would be hung about her own
+neck and arms; and her smooth skin would gleam with powder that would
+match the newly-burnished gold.
+
+The tailors needed supervision; the working goldsmiths required
+individual watching.  A member of the family, usually one of the elder
+women, was told off to sit by his crucible and work-table whilst he
+plied his bellows and his delicate styles; and the half-finished
+ornament was carried home in the evening to be restored to the jeweller
+in the morning when the person in charge was able to resume her guard.
+
+Then there were the preparations that belonged to the kitchen, the
+chutneys, pickles, and preserves that would be required when the time
+arrived for feasting and feeding the poor Brahmans.
+
+Dorama assisted under her mother-in-law's directions, lending a hand
+here and there where special care was needed.  She was very silent; but
+beneath that silence was hidden a fire of emotions varied and deep that
+the others little dreamed of.  She thought of her wedding, long ago
+when she was but a child.  At the time the ceremonies had excited her
+wonder, and she had experienced a fearful pleasure in the thought that
+she was the centre of attention.  She remembered Ananda's smooth boyish
+face and his gentle acquiescence to all his parents' wishes.  He had
+glanced at his newly-made wife with childish curiosity, in which
+passion and desire found no place.
+
+Later the parents arranged a honeymoon for the young couple, to be
+spent under the paternal roof.  On her side, at least, there was
+nothing but distaste and fear, with not a little grief at having to
+leave her own home.  Then ensued a dull period when light household
+tasks instead of dolls and toys filled her life.  It ended in the birth
+of a son.  With the advent of the baby she was released from domestic
+work in the kitchen; and though she found that the wonderful living
+doll was not her exclusive property, but seemed to belong to the whole
+house as much as to her, existence had a new interest.
+
+Before she was sufficiently recovered to take her new place as the
+favoured young mother of a son in the family circle, Ananda departed.
+She remembered how he had knelt by her side and looked at the tiny
+baby, their joint property, with a kind of delighted surprise, as
+though he found it difficult to realise that the little crumpled olive
+ball of humanity was his own, his very own.  From his child his eyes
+went to his child's mother with a light in them that she had never seen
+there before.  She was no longer one of the mere goods and chattels of
+the house to help to minister to his appetite, feed him, keep his
+clothes in order and perform other duties that contributed to his
+comfort and well-being.  In giving him this son, who would one day call
+him by the name most highly prized throughout the land, she had done
+something purely personal, something exclusively for him; and in so
+doing she had endowed him with a delight and joy unknown before.
+
+It was impossible for him to express his gratitude in words.  The
+presence of his mother standing near with her dark, watchful eyes kept
+him silent.  He could only gaze from wife to child and then back again
+at his wife.  In his shining eyes, full of unspoken happiness, the girl
+might read what she pleased.  Even as he knelt by the mat on which she
+lay the new longing arose to possess, to enjoy, to claim his own, and
+carry his precious treasures away.
+
+The watching mother detected the emotion, and a twinge of jealousy
+caused her to stir uneasily.  She advanced and laid a hand upon his
+shoulder, her gold bracelets ringing as they fell together upon her
+wrist with the movement.
+
+"Come away, my son; she is still weak, and unable to bear a long
+farewell.  Be assured that we will keep her safe and sound till you
+return, her and her little son."
+
+Ananda bent lower over the recumbent figure, and his mother's brow
+contracted as she saw the motion.
+
+"Beloved! keep your heart warm for your absent husband," he whispered,
+as he kissed the beautiful mouth.
+
+Dorama, as a well-behaved married woman, should have shown no emotion
+beyond grief.  She should have received the kiss and the words in
+silence, allowing the eyelids to droop under his ardent gaze; but in
+these latter days of progress the orthodox Hindu feels the insensible
+breath of the new spirit, and yields to it without actually breaking
+away from the old rules.  That same spirit moved her to put her arms
+round his neck and to draw him down again till their lips touched a
+second time.
+
+"Do not be long, beloved.  The slave waits impatiently for her lord."
+
+"Come! come!  The carriage is ready, and his honour, your father, is
+impatient to be off," said the voice of his mother, as once more her
+hand rested on his shoulder.
+
+He rose to his feet and accompanied her without another word, turning
+once only to look back and smile at the eyes that followed him so
+wistfully.  Neither husband nor wife forgot the incident.  Every
+detail, every look and word were engraved upon their memories, and with
+this their aching hungry hearts had to be contented until they should
+meet again.
+
+As the time drew near for Ananda's return Dorama moved like one in a
+dream.  During the day she was abstracted and thoughtful, except when
+she was with her little son.  If by any chance she could carry him out
+of hearing of the other members of the family on pretence of giving him
+the air, she spoke of his father, pouring out the pent-up feeling in
+words, the meaning of which was beyond the child's comprehension.  It
+brought relief, although it did not allay the terrible longing.
+
+When the pink satin coat that Royan was to wear on his father's
+home-coming was finished, Dorama stole away to the little room she had
+shared with her husband, and slipped it on.  The boy's eyes sparkled
+with delight at the colour and sheen.
+
+"Your father is coming, blessed one!  Say 'Father, excellent father!
+Your son and slave throws himself before your honourable footsteps!'
+Say it!  Ah, good child!  It was well done!  Now again; and carry the
+hand to the forehead, thus!  Good, little one!  Mother's joy!"
+
+Suddenly the sound of Gunga's voice fell on her ear as some order was
+given in the distance to one of the dependents.
+
+"Ah! there is the grandmother!  Quick! take it off!  The coat is only
+to be worn in the presence of your father."
+
+She pulled it off, the child entering into the fun and excitement of
+doing something that must be hidden from the rigid mistress of the
+house.  When the coast was clear Dorama crept back, the coat hidden
+under her saree and her finger on her lips.  The purloined garment was
+replaced in the clothes chest without discovery, and the two, laughing
+like a couple of mischievous children, ran away in happy glee over
+their secret.
+
+At night she lay on her mat in the large room appropriated to the women
+of the household, wakeful with busy thought and anticipation.  The deep
+breathing and occasional snore of her companions told her that they
+slept soundly.  Then she ventured to move, to stretch her young limbs
+and sit up.  Her brain seemed on fire.  Would her mother give them
+again the little room; or would the son of the house be honoured by
+being assigned a larger and more important chamber?  Would he be
+altered in any way?  Possibly he had grown older in appearance,
+stronger in limb, more manly.  How the women of England must have
+admired him!  Hateful creatures!  She detested English women!  What was
+there to admire in them?  They were blocks of ice with hard, cold,
+white skins and unkind eyes.  She had never seen them except in the
+streets as they drove past in carriages or motors; but she was quite
+convinced that she read their characters aright, and that her opinion
+of them was correct.
+
+She heard the cocks crowing as they marked the progress of the night.
+In the midst of her musings she fell asleep, and dreamed that he had
+come, that he leaned over her in greeting as he had leaned in parting,
+and that their lips met once more.
+
+Among other preparations was the painting and decoration of the house.
+As the time approached Venetian masts were erected and wreaths
+suspended the length of the road in which they lived.  Bunches of
+leaves and flowers were tied to the beams of the house, and whole
+plantain trees bearing their large clusters of golden fruit were
+fastened to every pillar.
+
+Then the guru with his disciple arrived, and the purohit from the
+temple, to superintend the ceremonies that were necessary for the
+restoration of caste.  Gunga, in the absence of her husband in Bombay,
+gave the holy men a welcome, and saw that nothing was omitted that was
+conducive to their comfort.
+
+As the time drew near the whole household felt the thrill of
+expectation that never fails to move a family when one of its members
+is expected home after a long sojourn in foreign lands.  What news
+there would be to hear, and to tell!  The traveller would bring gifts
+for all.  No one would be forgotten.
+
+One morning a post peon appeared carrying a telegram.  It was addressed
+to Pantulu's brother, Sooba, the little master, as he was called; and
+it announced that the ship had come in safely and that the passengers
+would land that afternoon.
+
+"Is there anything in the telegram about the time they will leave
+Bombay?" asked the guru's attendant, as he waited to carry news to the
+great man.  Gunga handed him the message in its brown envelope.  Ten
+minutes later he returned.
+
+"The master says that they will start to-morrow probably, either by the
+morning or evening mail, according to the time it takes to clear the
+luggage through the custom house."
+
+The guru was well versed in matters temporal as well as spiritual.
+
+"When may we expect them?" asked Gunga.
+
+"It takes two nights and a day to travel from Bombay to Chirapore,"
+replied the disciple.  "If they leave to-morrow night they will be here
+on Wednesday morning."
+
+"The day before the new moon!  Not a lucky day to be travelling south,"
+remarked Gunga, with a troubled expression upon her face.  "If my
+husband remembers to go out of the house in which he is staying by a
+north door, the bad luck may be averted."
+
+"He will surely think of it," observed the disciple, whose life was
+occupied in the consideration of omens.
+
+"In the joy of meeting his son it is quite possible that it may be
+forgotten.  I know that my lord will be nearly beside himself with
+delight at seeing his boy again, his only child!" she added softly,
+with a tenderness that she rarely exhibited.
+
+That same afternoon a second telegram was received.  It said "Disperse
+guests.  Discontinue preparations for feasting and rejoicing."
+
+Gunga listened speechless as her brother-in-law read it aloud.
+
+"Again," she commanded.
+
+He read it a second and a third time.
+
+"Is there nothing about illness?  Is no reason given for these strange
+orders?"
+
+"None, most honourable mother of my brother's family."
+
+"Call his excellency, the swami."
+
+The guru, full of curiosity, came at the summons without delay.  He
+read the message more than once, but was unable to throw any more light
+upon its meaning.
+
+"A letter will come with full explanations," he said at last.  "Until
+its arrival the directions of the master of the house must be carried
+out.  My disciple shall tell the company of beggars who are already
+assembling that there will be no feasting.  He had better give them an
+anna apiece, which you will provide, and say that they will be called
+together again on the arrival of the master."
+
+"What can be the cause of this change?" asked Gunga, her dark eyes
+fixed with a questioning gaze upon the guru.
+
+"Illness, perhaps, or an accident."
+
+"My son is not dead!" she cried in sudden terror.
+
+"No, that cannot be; nor can there be any dangerous illness.  It is
+possible that your son may have missed his ship, in which case he will
+arrive by the next mail boat a week later.  We shall learn in time.
+Meanwhile, I will go on my way to another house, where my presence is
+needed, and will hold myself in readiness to return a fortnight hence."
+
+Pantulu's wife felt slightly relieved by the suggestion that her son
+might be coming a week later.  It was better than entertaining the fear
+that he was ill or even dead.  She accepted the situation, and set
+about carrying out her husband's directions at once.  The new clothes
+were packed away in camphor-wood boxes; the pickles and preserves were
+tied down and put in the storeroom.  The women were ordered to cease
+grinding curry-stuffs and pounding rice.  The busy household dropped
+into sudden inaction, and an unnatural silence reigned everywhere.  The
+women spoke in whispers, and the men betook themselves to the bazaar,
+or to the houses of their fellow-caste people, where they discussed the
+ominous message from Bombay without fear of being overheard by the
+stern woman who ruled the family.
+
+Dorama with the rest had listened as the telegram was read out.  Every
+word of it was engraven upon her brain.  She went over it again and
+again, puzzling herself to find a reason for the strange mandate.  If
+Ananda had missed his ship surely his father would have said so.  On
+the other hand, if there was illness or an accident to cause delay, it
+might easily have been told in a few words.  Some mystery lay beneath
+it.  What could it be?  Had Ananda lost his senses and become mad with
+the joy of his home-coming?  She had known cases of temporary loss of
+the senses through excessive joy or grief.
+
+The child plucked at her saree, jealous of her abstraction.  She caught
+him up and crushed his soft little body to her heart.
+
+"Thus and thus will thy father hug thee and me, my son, when he comes!"
+
+The boy, irritated at being roughly handled, beat at her with his small
+fists.
+
+"Thus and thus will I beat my father if he hurts me like that.  Let me
+go, or I will ask him to find me another mother."
+
+The senseless words fell upon her ear with strange force.  What was it
+the child said?  Another mother!  Could it be possible that her husband
+had forgotten her in that foreign country, where he had lived so long?
+Was he bringing home another wife? a white woman, a hated European?
+No, no!  It was impossible!
+
+With a stifled cry she set the child down on his feet, and he seized
+the opportunity of escaping to the kitchen, the spot he loved best.
+She was left alone, and no one heeded her; they were all too busy
+discussing the mystery of the message and attempting to discover its
+solution.  Suddenly she dropped to the ground, crouching as though some
+unseen hand were about to strike a deadly blow, her hands lifted to
+guard her head.
+
+"No! no! no!  If there were another I could not bear it.  I should
+die!" she wailed.  Then passion took hold of her.  She stuffed the
+corner of her saree into her mouth and bit it savagely.  "No, I will
+not die!  It is the strange woman who shall die!  Hear me, swami of the
+big temple!  Hear my vow.  I will live and have my own! my own!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+The house in which Bopaul's father lived was situated in the same road,
+about a hundred yards distant, and on the opposite side.  It was nearer
+the town, and though a substantial building, was not as large as the
+silk merchant's; nor was the compound as extensive.  A similar
+preparation had been made by the family, but not on so large or
+expensive a scale; nor had the mistress thought it necessary to go on a
+pilgrimage.  New clothes had been bought, and store-rooms were
+replenished.  The house had been repainted and decorated.
+
+There was no young wife with her little son to await the coming of
+Bopaul; but his bride was already chosen, and the marriage ceremony
+would be performed as soon as the restoration of caste was
+accomplished.  She would not be present at his home-coming.  The girl
+was a stranger to him, and he had yet to make her acquaintance.  As in
+Pantulu's family, there were many relatives and dependents who
+performed the duties of servants; but claimed a right to share in the
+rejoicings as relations.
+
+One forlorn little figure in that busy happy company was not a
+participator in the joy of Bopaul's return.  This was his own sister
+Mayita, married in her infancy to Coomara.  By Coomara's death she had
+become a widow, although she had been only a wife in name.  Her
+degradation was aggravated by the fact that her husband had died
+abroad, with the funeral ceremonies, in which she should have taken a
+certain part, unperformed.
+
+In dying out of his country the dead man was laid, as we have seen,
+under the ban of broken caste.  It was irrevocably broken, no ritual
+having ever been devised by which it could be restored.
+
+Dressed once more as a bride--this time in bitter mockery--the jewels
+had been stripped from her neck and arms; her head was shaven; the
+glass bangles of her childhood were broken upon her wrists.  Never
+would she forget, young as she was, the crash of glass as the delicate
+circles were splintered under a sharp, irritable blow that in itself
+indicated how deeply her fate was resented by the family.  The soft
+brown-and-gold saree that harmonised with her complexion was ruthlessly
+unwound with unnecessary force as she stood weeping and unresisting in
+the hands of the wailing women.  It was thrown aside as though defiled
+by contact with her half-developed form.  In place of it she was
+obliged to wear a coarse cotton cloth, with rough edges, that chafed
+her tender skin and brought her unfortunate condition constantly to
+mind.
+
+No pity was felt for the shrinking, miserable girl as she flitted like
+a ghost about the house, avoiding with painful care young and old
+alike, lest her shadow should fall upon them and bring bad luck.  In
+the preparations for her brother's return she had no part.  When his
+eye should first fall upon her, he ought by all precedent to curse her,
+and command her to get out of his sight.  It was this thought that hurt
+her most, and caused a sharper grief than she had felt for the loss of
+her husband.  She was but thirteen years old.  A vivid memory remained
+of the brother who in old days had been invariably kind.  The longing
+to see him again was great; and many a secret tear was shed at the
+thought that she might no more bask in the sunshine of his fraternal
+love.
+
+In the caste family that is poor the widow becomes the drudge of the
+house.  It is often a blessing in disguise, if the work is not made too
+heavy, as it gives occupation for the mind.  In Bopaul's family it was
+not necessary for Mayita to occupy that position.  There were plenty of
+people to do the work, and she was not called upon to take any part in
+the household duties.  She would have been happier for a little
+employment; but she was denied both work and play.  The other children
+refused to allow her to join their games; and when she approached the
+women who ground the curry-stuffs, pounded and cleaned the rice, tended
+the kitchen fires or polished the numerous brass pots, they one and all
+motioned her away.  If she begged to be given occupation of some sort,
+they set her a task that had perforce to be executed in solitude.
+
+She sought her mother, but here again she was repulsed; not by rough
+words, but by her parent's sighs and tears.  Bopaul's mother was a
+stout, lethargic person, who loved above all things her own comfort.
+Until her daughter was widowed she was rarely seen without a placid
+smile of content.  She still wore it at times when the misfortune was
+forgotten.  As soon as Mayita appeared the smile faded; the large,
+slumbrous eyes filled with tears, and she began her lamentations.
+
+"What sin can my daughter have committed in a former birth that such
+heavy punishment should be meted out?"
+
+Then she would send her with a message to another part of the house,
+and the child knew that she was not expected to return.  If Mayita
+remained, the wailing was continued.
+
+"The sight of your widowhood is a shame to the whole house.  Such a
+misfortune can only come to those who have in some way grievously
+offended the gods."
+
+The accusation of sin in a former birth was repeated so often that at
+last the girl became possessed with a vague sense of wrong-doing.  Its
+responsibility added to the weight already resting upon the young
+shoulders, and increased her misery.
+
+Shortly after the receipt of the second telegram, one of the women
+belonging to Pantulu's family slipped away to carry the news to her
+neighbours.  She was received eagerly with a chorus of questions.
+
+"What news?  When do they come?  We have heard nothing."
+
+"It is not known when they arrive."
+
+"Why do you look so gloomy?  Is the news otherwise than good?"
+
+"Yemmah! how can I tell?  Aiyoh! to think of such a thing!"
+
+After this enigmatic speech she began to weep with the ready ease of
+the oriental.  The sensation created was gratifying to her vanity.
+There was a perfect clamour for an explanation.
+
+"What is it?  Speak! we are all on fire to learn!"
+
+"The master has sent an order by the wire that there are to be no
+rejoicings.  Aiyoh! to think that the young excellency should return to
+his father's house without rejoicings, without feastings and
+garlandings, and without fireworks and feeding of the poor!"
+
+"What says the mistress?"
+
+"That there has been an accident or an illness, and that their honours,
+the master and his son are not coming.  If there is bad luck it will be
+the waning moon that will have caused it.  Next week all would have
+gone well.  What news has been received in this house?  Has the ticking
+devil sent any message?"
+
+"Only one.  It was written on a thin slip of paper, and it came in a
+brown envelope."
+
+"What did it say?"
+
+"That the young master had landed in safety, and that they would leave
+Bombay by the night mail to-morrow."
+
+"And the rejoicings?"
+
+"There is no order to forbid them."
+
+"Is the swami here?"
+
+"He and his disciple arrived last night."
+
+"Happy house!  Happy mistress of an honourable family.  She is to be
+envied."
+
+"Our excellent lady has only one trouble; it is the presence of
+Coomara's widow."
+
+"What will she do about it?  It will bring misfortune on the young
+master if he meets his sister immediately on arrival."
+
+"She will be locked in the room that opens into the cowyard; and she
+will be kept there till the middle of the next day.  In the afternoon,
+when there is less fear of the frown of the gods, she may perhaps be
+permitted to see him; but only if he asks for her."
+
+Other members of Pantulu's household slipped away to carry the news to
+the neighbours.  The story was told and retold with variations till the
+whole town was agog with curiosity.  Many were the surmises, but not a
+single one came near the true solution of the mystery.
+
+On the morning of the day when Bopaul and his father were expected a
+large crowd gathered at the railway station to learn what had happened.
+No one knew whether Pantulu would be in the same train.  It was Bopaul
+to whom they looked for news.  Friends and fellow-caste men were
+permitted on the platform, which was crowded.  A larger number, moved
+only by curiosity, assembled outside the station.
+
+Chirapore was a terminus.  The train arrived and poured forth its load
+of travellers.  Some astonishment was caused by the sight of the large
+assembly gathered in and round the building; but the attention of
+Bopaul and his father was diverted to the recovery of personal baggage
+from the vans, and their curiosity as to the reason of so big a crowd
+was lost in anxiety to assure themselves of the safety of their
+property.
+
+Through the crowd Pantulu and his son pushed their way hastily.  So
+hemmed in were they that they escaped observation except by a few.  In
+the hurry and bustle no attempt was made to detain them for a greeting
+which could be made with more dignity later.  Pantulu led the way,
+passing straight through the station and out into the public road,
+where stood a row of carriages for hire.  Ananda followed close upon
+his heels with his suit-case.  His two portmanteaux were carried by a
+couple of coolies and placed without delay upon the roof of a hired
+gharry.
+
+Father and son stepped into the carriage and were driven off.  Not a
+word passed between them.  Ananda was conducted back to the home of his
+childhood in an ominous silence that chilled him and destroyed all his
+happiness.  He wondered vaguely what his father intended to do with
+him.  He was aware that he could not join the family circle, eat with
+them, take part in the daily religious worship conducted by his father
+as head of the house before the chief meal of the day.  His exclusion
+would have been insisted upon even if he had not taken the momentous
+step.  Until the restoration of caste it was imperative that he should
+lead a life apart from the rest of the family.  It would mean the
+occupation of an isolated room well away from the kitchen, the taking
+of his food in solitude, the reservation of earthen drinking vessels
+exclusively for his own use, to be destroyed afterwards.  But with all
+this there would be nothing to prevent him from meeting the male
+members of the family in that general place of assembly in all Indian
+houses, the pial or verandah.  There they could talk and he could
+relate his experiences, and the others might listen without fear of
+contamination.  This condition of affairs might last without personal
+discomfort to any one for a week or ten days, or even longer, according
+to the decree of those who conducted the ceremonies for the restoration
+of caste.
+
+Under the altered circumstances Ananda concluded that the arrangements
+for his accommodation would be of a permanent nature, and more
+comfortable than if they were temporary.  He would be able to furnish
+his room to his liking, introducing a few western luxuries, such as an
+armchair or two, a writing-table, bookcase, a table at which he could
+sit to take his meals.  He could join the family in the pial, but
+otherwise lead his own life as he had learned to lead it in England.
+No difficulty presented itself to his mind in the arrangement; in
+truth, there was none.  Provided he did not force himself upon his
+family in a manner that would endanger their caste rules, no objection
+could be made to his staying for a time under his father's roof.  Later
+he would propose the separate house--it might be small and
+unassuming--where he could live as he pleased with his wife and child.
+
+In the midst of his speculations the noisy ramshackle vehicle drew up
+before the house.  The plantain palms and festoons of green leaves
+remained where joyful fingers had placed them.  The Venetian masts that
+were to have supported ropes of Chinese lanterns had also been left
+standing, some of them bare of decoration, others gaudy with red and
+white twists of calico.  Not a living creature was visible.  The big
+iron-studded door was closely shut.  A few small windows looking
+towards the road were screened with Venetian shutters; the pial was
+empty.  There was not even the joyous bark of a dog to welcome home the
+wanderer.
+
+Pantulu stepped out of the carriage and directed the driver to place
+the two leather portmanteaux on the steps.  He kept his back to his son
+whenever he was able, and studiously averted his gaze.  The sight of
+the wound on his son's face hurt him more than a little.  Ananda
+followed his father, and the coachman was paid and ordered to leave
+without delay.  They waited till he had retreated in a cloud of dust;
+and then Ananda, who was impatient of delay, put his foot on the first
+step of the flight that led up to the pial.
+
+"Stop!" said his father, sternly.  "Follow me!"
+
+He gave no explanation, and confined himself to as few words as
+possible.  Leading the way round to the side of the house, he entered
+the compound and conducted his son to a little outer yard into which
+opened the door of a room that had no communication with the rest of
+the building.  The room was empty, except for a thick layer of dust and
+dried leaves blown in by the wind through the open door.  A tiny,
+unglazed, unshuttered window high up under the eaves of the roof,
+admitted a little light; but at best the room was but a den, and not
+fit for the accommodation of a human being, let alone a son of the
+house.
+
+"Go in and wait there," said his father, shortly, as though the
+necessity of addressing his son was repugnant.
+
+"I should like a chair--and a mat; and surely the room might be swept
+out with advantage," said Ananda, looking round with undisguised
+disgust.
+
+Pantulu avoided meeting his eyes, and walked away without replying.
+Meanwhile the advent of the gharry had not been unnoticed by the
+wondering household.  The mistress herself, overcome by her curiosity,
+pressed her forehead against the Venetians to peer through a chink and
+take a look at the arrivals.  She could tell by the expression on her
+husband's face that something had happened to disturb him greatly.
+Nothing less than some serious misfortune could bring those deep lines
+upon his brow and cause the corners of his mouth to droop so ominously.
+Of one thing she assured herself with some satisfaction.  Her son was
+sound in limb and well in health; and she caught her breath in a little
+sigh of relief.
+
+Dorama, hugging her child close to her breast, stood behind her
+mother-in-law, listening eagerly for news.
+
+"Has the excellent father arrived?" she ventured to ask at last, unable
+to repress her curiosity.
+
+A bare affirmative was all she could elicit.
+
+"Is he alone?" she asked presently.
+
+Pantulu's wife shook her head without speaking, and presently moved
+away from the window.  There was a little struggle among the women to
+secure her place.  They were disappointed.  The road and the short
+carriage-drive up to the house were empty except for a distant
+bullock-cart plodding its way to the market with a sleepy driver, who
+had eyes for nothing but his cattle.
+
+Gunga went to the back of the house.  She had not long to wait.
+Pantulu, dejected and gloomy, strode in by a door in the wall, passed
+quickly through the garden, mounted the verandah steps and, without a
+word, went straight to the front room, into which the big iron-studded
+door opened.  He greeted no one.  The men and women who had been
+waiting in the courtyard and inner rooms salaamed, but he took no
+notice of their salutations.  His wife followed him, and he asked
+gruffly for his brother.  A man some ten years younger than himself
+came forward and salaamed.
+
+"All is well with my honoured elder brother!  May the gods continue to
+smile on him and all his family!"
+
+Pantulu suddenly flung his arms up and cried passionately--
+
+"I am cursed!  The gods have cursed me--me and my family!'
+
+"In what manner, most excellent master of the house?"
+
+"My son has become a Christian!--my only son!  My only child!"
+
+The words rang out sharply and reached the ears of the group that had
+circled round the master of the house.  They were repeated from mouth
+to mouth with gathering consternation as the catastrophe was gradually
+realised.  Gunga heard them, and at first seemed stunned, so still and
+silent did she remain.  A groan escaped her lips, and the strong,
+shapely hands gripped the edge of her saree.
+
+"A Christian!  What do you say?  My ears have played me false.  I have
+not heard aright.  My son a Christian?  You jest, my husband!"
+
+"It is true!" he replied, in a dull, despairing voice that in itself
+should have been convincing if she could have brought herself to
+believe in such a thing; but she fought against it, and refused to
+entertain the idea.
+
+"Who dares to say that our son has become a Christian?" she asked
+fiercely.
+
+"His own tongue.  He calls himself by the accursed name, and he shows
+no shame."
+
+"A Christian! a Christian!" echoed voices round him.  "A Christian! a
+Christian!" was caught up by the women and repeated with increasing
+excitement.
+
+"Oh!  Aiyoh!  Aiyoh!  Aiyoh!"
+
+The cry came from Gunga herself.  It dominated the chorus of
+lamentation and silenced every other tongue.  Suddenly the sound of a
+thud upon the floor startled the company.  A childish scream followed.
+
+"Water! bring water!" said one of the women.  "The lady Dorama has
+fainted and let the child fall!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Ananda stood at the open door of the little room looking out at the
+view.  The earth was smiling under the tropical sun.  Birds and flowers
+responded to its tempered heat; and song and sweet odours were lavishly
+spent upon the soft air.  An oleander bush with its willow foliage
+tossed trusses of almond-scented, pink blossom, at the entrance of the
+yard.  The luxuriant vine of a gourd spread its thick leafage over a
+part of the ground enclosed.  Just outside a rose bush, laden with
+clusters of blossoms and buds, threw its thorny branches over the warm,
+sunbaked, mud wall.  A pair of tawny fritillary butterflies fluttered
+over the petals of the rose, and a blue roller bird flew across the
+sky, a living streak of brilliant azure upon the ethereal blue haze.
+Crested hoopoes ran along the base of the wall seeking ants and cooing
+softly in their contentment.
+
+Above foliage, flower and building rose the noble mountain mass in the
+distance, with its sholahs of virgin forest, its glades and slopes of
+green grass and peaks of bare grey rock.  Ananda's spirit stirred
+within him as his eye followed the familiar outline of the beautiful
+spur of the Western Ghats.  How often he had watched it under its
+different aspects and learned to love it, whether it was shrouding
+itself in a grey mantle of rain-laden vapour, or shining through a
+transparent haze of blue.
+
+He recalled the expeditions of his youth when his father had taken him
+to the hill for the day and he had returned with the spoil of the
+forest; ferns and orchids and long supple bamboos, strange leaves and
+flowers that could not be made to grow in his own garden.  He
+remembered a tiger, caught and speared by the natives, which was
+brought in by exulting herdsmen to be shown to his father.  A hyaena was
+also carried in in like manner slung upon a green bamboo cut from the
+forest.  He remembered how tightly he had clung to his father's hand in
+his fear of the big beasts with their strong jaws hanging open and the
+formidable teeth visible; and how his father reassured him each time,
+bidding him be brave and behave like a man.  Ananda sighed; ah, he
+would show his own son the same sights, and teach him to be a man!
+
+The thought of the child changed the current of his musings.  Where was
+the boy at the present moment?  Where was the boy's mother?  Only a
+wall or two separated them.  Why did they not come and greet him?  It
+was perfectly feasible.  There was no fear of contamination in the open
+air.  An interview might take place in the little yard or in the
+compound beyond without detriment to caste.
+
+He listened for the sound of voices.  The house was very silent.  The
+room apportioned to his use was remote from the kitchen and women's
+quarters; but with that large family there were usually people moving
+in all parts of the building.
+
+Nearly an hour passed and he began to grow impatient.  He went to the
+entrance of the yard and stood at the open gateway.  A man ran hastily
+round the corner of the house, his body bent under the load he was
+carrying.  It was one of Ananda's portmanteaux.  He approached the
+gateway and stopped in front of it.  Ananda looked him up and down and
+recognised him as a pariah employed as a sweeper outside the house.
+
+"What are you doing with my luggage?" he demanded angrily.
+
+The man put down his load and prostrated himself, touching the ground
+with his forehead.
+
+"The master ordered me to bring the two leather boxes belonging to your
+honour."
+
+"It is not for men such as you are to touch anything belonging to a son
+of the house."
+
+The pariah put his hands together palm to palm in abject apology and
+deprecation.
+
+"This lump of mud, this poor worm had no choice but to do the master's
+bidding.  He held his stick over my unprotected body, and threatened to
+beat me if I did not bring the boxes."
+
+He scrambled to his feet and ran off thankful to escape punishment from
+the owner of the trunks, and reappeared with the second.  Ananda
+directed him to leave them at the gateway.  When the man had gone he
+carried them into the room himself.  The dust flew in clouds as he set
+them down one after the other against the wall.  The neat dark suit he
+wore was stained and his fingers soiled.  Involuntarily he glanced
+round for the English washstand for means to rid himself of the
+offending dust.  He smiled at his own ridiculous expectations and
+turned to the fresh air outside, sweet and pure and refreshing, and
+cleansed his hands as well as he could on the coarse grass.
+
+A figure approached and he recognised his uncle, Sooba Iyer.  His face
+cleared and he advanced with outstretched hand.
+
+"It is good to see you again, my little father.  You are the first to
+greet me.  Where are the rest?"
+
+His uncle drew himself up with a gathering together of his muslin
+garments and lifted his hand with a warning gesture to arrest further
+advance.  Ananda knew the gesture well.  He had seen it often; aye, and
+practised it himself in days gone by, when accident had brought him
+near a pariah.  No reply was vouchsafed to his question, and he soon
+discovered the reason for the visit.  In abject humility the sweeper
+appeared, broom in hand.
+
+"Sweep out the room, contemptible one!" said Sooba.
+
+The pariah set to work at once to perform his task to the best of his
+ability, and wielded his broom till the air was thick, and a large heap
+of rubbish was accumulated.  The elder man stood silently in the
+enclosure, holding himself ready to avoid contamination by touch or
+shadow.  If there was relaxation at all it was towards the sweeper
+rather than his nephew.
+
+"I don't know why I should be treated in this way," protested Ananda.
+"Broken caste is broken caste.  I am in no worse case as a Christian
+than I was as a Hindu with my broken caste.  The only difference is
+that one state is temporary; the other is permanent.  Surely my mother
+has some better accommodation to give me than this."
+
+The last words were said with a touch of indignation; but they had no
+more effect in producing a reply than what had gone before.  The
+sweeper finished his work with the broom and was directed to fetch the
+things set apart for Ananda's use.  A couple of chairs, an old camp
+table, a cot laced with rope and furnished with coarse bedding.  These
+and a few other trifles were placed in the room by willing but awkward
+hands.  The pariah had had no experience in dealing with bedroom
+furniture.
+
+Two or three times Ananda addressed himself to his uncle but his
+remarks were received in stolid silence.  His relative might have been
+deaf.  Neither by look nor speech was there any sign of reply.  By this
+time the noon was passed, and although Ananda was too much disturbed in
+his mind to feel hungry he was conscious of thirst.  As his uncle was
+about to leave after having completed the arrangement of the room, he
+said--
+
+"It is some time since I had anything to drink.  I am thirsty.  Let the
+waterman bring me a pot of water and a cup."
+
+A few minutes later the sweeper returned bearing an earthen pot of
+water and a tin mug.  He approached the door with manifest reluctance,
+well aware of the gross insult he was offering.  His touch was
+pollution, unspeakable pollution.  Sooner would a caste man allow his
+drinking vessel to come into contact with a plague-stricken corpse than
+have it touched by a pariah.
+
+"My lord! this is not my doing.  With heavy blows has this slave been
+driven here----"
+
+He was not permitted to finish the apology.  Furiously angry, Ananda
+yielded to the instinct implanted by generations of caste ancestors.
+He rushed at him, knocked the earthen vessel out of his hands and with
+a blow sent him backwards into the foliage of the gourd.  The pot broke
+and the mug rolled aside.
+
+"How dare a loathsome pariah like this son of a jackal offer me such an
+insult!  Go! get out of my sight!  Don't let me see your face again."
+
+The unfortunate sweeper fled; and the outraged man sank upon a chair.
+He leaned his arms upon the ricketty table and bowed his head.  His
+lips trembled and the fingers of both hands slowly clenched over his
+palms in his effort to control himself; for the last act had unnerved
+and shaken him.  What had he done to merit such unnecessary and
+gratuitous insult?  The caste waterman of the establishment might have
+brought the water pot and mug.  He could have entered the room without
+detriment to his own caste.  In fact, all the duties recently performed
+by the sweeper could have been done without any difficulty by the
+servants of the house, and would have been performed by them if the
+intentional degradation had not been designed expressly for his
+humiliation.
+
+Ananda suffered keenly, as much from the unkindness and cruelty shown
+as from the insult.  It could not have happened without the consent of
+his parents.  A feeling of resentment at its injustice roused his
+indignation, and he lifted his head in angry pride.  He would not
+submit without protest.  His anger served as a tonic to his wounded
+spirit and pricked his courage.  The shining eyes hardened and the
+mouth grew firm.
+
+The day wore on without incident.  As no one appeared he determined to
+seek an interview with his father or mother or some other member of the
+family, and remonstrate against the outrageous treatment he was
+receiving.
+
+Memory served him well; he had forgotten nothing of the geography of
+the place and he found nothing altered.  Walking slowly round to the
+front of the house he arrived at the stone steps that led up to the
+verandah.  Three or four men were seated on the masonry bench; they
+were talking together; but as soon as they caught sight of him they
+became silent.
+
+Ananda recognised two of them as relatives and he greeted them by name
+as he mounted the steps.
+
+"I wish to see my father," he said with a new dignity and authority.
+"Will one of you go and say that his son awaits him in the verandah."
+
+The request called forth no reply.  They stared at him and rose one by
+one, retiring through the big door which stood open.  He was alone,
+standing on the top step, not daring to enter the house.  Too well he
+knew all that would be involved by such an action.  The inner courtyard
+was exposed to view.  His eager eyes searched every corner for a sight
+of the figure he longed to see.  A child toddled out from the women's
+quarters.  The boy's curiosity was roused.  With the delightful absence
+of shyness and self-consciousness peculiar to Indian children the
+little fellow began to run towards him fearlessly, limping slightly.
+
+It needed no words to tell the eager father who it was.  Ananda's heart
+leaped within him, flooded with a warm wave of paternal love.  That
+beautiful boy with his rounded limbs, his smooth olive skin, his
+regular features could be none other than his son.  Pride, tenderness,
+joy rose at the thought, and he opened his arms.  Swiftly the child
+approached with growing confidence.  Swifter still followed a form that
+caused Ananda's heart to beat quicker and the blood to race through his
+veins.
+
+It was his wife.  If the boy was beautiful what was she in the first
+flush of her womanhood?  From his lips fell the one word that no other
+man had a right to call her.  "Wife!"
+
+Did she hear him?  He felt that she must have caught the word.  A pair
+of startled eyes met his as she snatched away the child.  The great
+door slammed in his face, and the vision was gone.  Was it her hand
+that struck the cruel blow?  Or had some member of the family crept up
+unseen and swung the door into its socket.
+
+Again the first sensation was a sense of injury and unmerited wrong;
+but the weakness passed more quickly this time, and it was followed by
+a just wrath.  The family had no right to treat him in this insulting
+manner, he said to himself indignantly.  He was being condemned
+unheard.  They were inhuman as well as unjust.  He felt sure that this
+treatment was not meted out with his parents' consent.  It was the work
+of his uncle, who was too fond of playing the master of the house.  He
+must see his father and have some explanation.  When his parents had
+heard the reason for the step he had taken, they would understand; they
+would become interested; and when they learned the beautiful doctrines
+of Christianity regarding the future life, they might possibly incline
+towards the new faith themselves and find comfort in the hope it
+taught.  In their ignorance of the fundamental teaching of Christianity
+his parents believed that there was an immeasurable gulf between the
+two creeds.  If they would only listen they would realise that in
+Christ was to be found the ideal and perfect manifestation of God.  His
+teaching brought hope and comfort and a sure promise of progressive
+happiness; whereas the creed of the Hindu presented nothing but a
+stagnant circle of painful rebirths.  At best it could only end in loss
+of personality, which was nothing more nor less than a hideous
+spiritual and intellectual death, more horrible to contemplate than the
+physical death.
+
+Ananda had not been received into the English Church without due
+instruction.  The duties of his adopted faith had been carefully
+inculcated.  He had been warned that if he met with any persecution he
+would have to bear it in a Christ-like spirit, meekly and with patience.
+
+As he stood before the closed door meekness and patience were
+conspicuous by their absence.  The old Adam boiled within him in the
+full strength of oriental passion.  In furious wrath he beat at the
+closed door with his walking-stick.  He called his father by name, and
+other male relatives.  He tried to wrench open the wooden shutters of
+the windows; but door and windows alike resisted his efforts and left
+him exhausted.  No one answered his angry calls and impatient knocks.
+He listened but could not hear a sound.  He was opposed by a colossal
+silence that did more to crush and subdue the chafing spirit than
+torrents of abuse.
+
+Tired out, and his wrath partly spent, he gave up the attempt to summon
+a member of the household and went dejectedly down the steps, turning
+his back upon the inhospitable door of his old home.  He glanced up and
+down the road.  What should he do with himself during the remaining
+hours of daylight?  To the south-east the town clustered round the old
+fort.  He knew it well with its thronged streets and busy bazaars.  To
+the north-west stood the mountains purpling into rich shades as the sun
+approached the horizon.  A refreshing breeze blew in from the north.
+It cooled his heated face and drew him in the direction of the open
+country with a kindly welcome.
+
+He walked towards the silent hills until the sun and its afterglow had
+disappeared.  Then he retraced his steps, his peace of mind somewhat
+restored.  He became conscious of a healthy appetite and of an
+insistent thirst for a cup of tea or coffee or a glass of milk.
+
+He regained his room.  It was in darkness except for a small oil lamp,
+too dim to be of any use for reading purposes, that stood upon the camp
+table.  In a corner near the door was another waterpot with a tin mug.
+He did not know if the mug was the same that the pariah had defiled by
+his touch; he preferred to think that the waterman had brought both the
+pot and the mug, and under this persuasion he took a long drink.
+
+Apparently his return was observed by the household.  Ten minutes later
+the same man, who had swept his room, appeared carrying a tray on which
+were dishes of curry with chutney and rice.  All were of the best and
+most tempting quality.  The mere smell whetted Ananda's appetite till
+he was well nigh ravenous; but he turned resolutely away whilst the
+pariah, not daring to enter the room, set the tray down on the
+threshold and vanished before Ananda could throw him thanks or abuse.
+If the truth must be told it was the latter that was on the tip of his
+tongue; but something arrested the torrent of curses and made him pause.
+
+He did not attempt to analyse the feeling.  The just anger of an
+injured man was still dominant; but something from outside, something
+altogether new was working underneath his caste instincts.  He stood at
+the open door looking out at the starlit night, the much needed food at
+his feet.  A strange sense of detachment, of calm isolation, came over
+him, bringing an unexpected stilling of the emotional storm; it was
+almost peace.  The quiet beauty of the night stirred the memory of St.
+Paul's cathedral.  He seemed to hear the wonderful cadences of the
+organ echoing round him, pouring balm upon the senses and endowing the
+wounded spirit with strength to rise to better things above the
+passions of the soul.  By the aid of that memory he climbed out of the
+slough of despair into which he had been plunged; and a half articulate
+prayer went up to the living God for pity and help.
+
+The crescent moon following the sun to its setting shone in the
+luminous grey-green sky.  That same moon faintly silvered the big grey
+dome of St. Paul's where the organ pealed and the choir sang the daily
+evensong.  He calculated the time.  It was about the hour for the
+service to begin.  In spirit he was back again kneeling among the quiet
+worshippers, unnoticed but not despised, repeating the wonderful prayer
+to "Our Father" that all lips can utter no matter what the creed of the
+worshipper may be.
+
+How long he remained standing at the door he did not know.  The smell
+of the savoury curry reached his nostrils, and appealed to a part of
+his nature that could not be ignored.  There was no doubt but that he
+was desperately hungry; and the curry was food he had not tasted for
+some time past.  It was one of the pleasures to which he was looking
+forward on his return home, as the Englishman thinks of the beefsteak.
+His mother prided herself on the excellence of her chutneys.  In the
+dim light he could see that they had been dealt out with a liberal hand.
+
+Suddenly he remembered who had brought the food.  It was the despised
+pariah.  With a shudder he turned away as a European might have turned
+from carrion.  He understood why the food had been prepared so
+carefully.  It was not love but a refined cruelty that had prompted the
+serving up of such a curry.
+
+He flung himself into a chair and passed his hand over his eyes.  The
+mud walls, unrelieved by whitewash looked black and murky.  The tiled
+roof was open and without a ceiling.  A fusty uncleanly scent of bats
+and squirrels offended him; and the rough wooden cot with its coarse
+black blankets was uninviting even to a weary man who longed for repose.
+
+His portmanteaux and suit case remained untouched where he had thrown
+them; he had not the heart to unpack and pull out the various little
+luxuries which from long use in England were a necessity in his daily
+routine.  There was no dressing-table where brushes, combs, collar and
+stud boxes could lie; no washstand with spotless towel and pretty
+crockery to hold his sponge and soap.  If he took off his coat, no
+wardrobe nor chest of drawers was provided for its reception.  It must
+hang over the back of a chair until it was required again.
+
+The food, hot and steaming when it was brought, grew cold and less
+inviting.  He could not leave it there all night; it must be moved if
+only to allow of the door being closed when he slept.  Once more he
+went to the doorway, and this time called softly.  Immediately the same
+man appeared.
+
+"Excellency! this slave is here."
+
+"Take away the food.  It has been defiled by the hand of a sweeper and
+I cannot eat it."
+
+The man obeyed without a word.  He returned and fell to the ground
+before Ananda.
+
+"The great one knows that this is not the doing of this worm.  The big
+mistress commanded it, and this slave could not do otherwise.  The
+master's brother himself held the stick over my shoulders, and when I
+protested he let it fall.  See, even by the dim light of the lamp how
+my skin is striped."
+
+Ananda strode out past him into the night.
+
+"Follow me; I have something to say."
+
+He walked away from the building, keeping, however, within the
+compound, which was walled in and private.  When they were at a
+sufficient distance to be secure from eavesdropping and observation
+Ananda spoke.
+
+"Tell me! who is it that gives orders?  Is it my father?"
+
+"The honourable master gives no orders.  He sits silent in the front
+room without speaking."
+
+"It is my mother, then?"
+
+The pariah wagged his head in assent.
+
+"It is the big mistress aided by the excellency's brother.  He tells
+her what to say and she repeats his words to one of the kitchen women
+who delivers the orders to me.  I said to the kitchen woman that this
+was not my work.  I am paid to sweep round the house and carry away the
+refuse.  His honour's brother heard me and came towards me with his
+stick raised.  I was frightened and obeyed."
+
+"Did you tell them that I broke the waterpot?"
+
+The pariah again made a sign in the affirmative.
+
+"What did they say?"
+
+"The kitchen woman told me that the small master laughed, and the big
+mistress said 'It is well.'"
+
+"And his excellency?  How did he receive the news?"
+
+"He bowed his head and hid his face in his hands.  'It is hard on the
+boy,' she heard him say, 'and there is no necessity.'  My lord, I have
+orders to go to-morrow morning early for the coffee and rice cakes
+apportioned to your honour.  What can I do?  My lord must eat or he
+will be sick.  I am but a slave with no choice but to obey."
+
+He put his hands together as though he prayed forgiveness.  Ananda
+paused before replying.
+
+"Do as you are told," he said at last; and he spoke more gently to the
+unfortunate outcaste than he had done before.  "I can give the food to
+the crows.  They are not troubled with caste scruples," he added
+bitterly.
+
+"But the young master must not starve," said the pariah, with real
+concern.  "My lord must forgive his worthless servant for speaking.
+This worm has a plan by which the master shall not starve.  To-morrow
+before it is light I will bring a herdsman with his cow and he shall
+draw the milk and deliver it into your honour's hand.  There are shops
+in the town where food may be bought in tins.  It is well known that
+people of all castes eat European biscuits in peace without defilement
+if they open the tins themselves.  The master shall buy and open for
+himself.  I will bring charcoal so that the milk may be warmed by your
+excellency and all will be well."
+
+"Good; let it be so," replied Ananda.
+
+He gave the man no thanks, but there was a softness in his voice that
+satisfied him.  Ananda turned back towards the little room that was to
+serve as bedroom and sitting-room for the present, a den in which even
+a dog would have moped and pined.  A sound reached his ears causing him
+to stop.  It was a wail of grief such as the women raised on the death
+of a member of the family.  He called to the pariah.
+
+"Who weeps in the house?"
+
+"The big mistress and her women."
+
+"Is any one of the family dead?"
+
+"They weep because your excellency is not with them."
+
+"It is enough; go."
+
+It was indeed enough!  At intervals during the night he heard the wail
+as he lay on his uncomfortable bed.  It spoke volumes.  He was dead to
+them from henceforth and worse than dead.  He was an outcaste sunk to
+the lowest depths of degradation, ranked with the "untouchables," and
+regarded with loathing as unclean and abominable.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+Pantulu rose the following day as usual and performed his ceremonial
+ablutions.  Later in the morning when the family had dispersed he laid
+himself down in the shade of the verandah of the inner court.  His wife
+had been watching him with some anxiety.  He was too quiet, too
+wordless to satisfy her.  She would have been better pleased if he had
+broken out into loud cursings and lamentations; if he had exhibited
+irritation and temper to the rest of the household.  It would have been
+excusable if he had stormed at herself for some trifle; or dealt out
+correction to some of the younger members of the family.
+
+She and her women had obtained relief in the wailing and tears of the
+previous night.  By the small hours of the morning every one was tired
+out and ready for sleep.  They all awoke satisfied that the atmosphere
+was clearer and their balance of mind restored.  Each went her way to
+perform her duty feeling that there was no need to waste more time in
+regret.
+
+Ananda's father had taken the misfortune differently.  So far he had
+found no outlet for his grief.  Throughout the long absence of his son
+he had daily and hourly looked forward to the boy's return.  Sometimes
+he had been assailed by a haunting fear lest something should happen,
+lest Ananda should die in that distant land as Coomara had done and
+never come back; lest he himself should die.  Then hope would revive
+and he would spend his idle hours picturing the home-coming and all its
+delights.  Never in any of his visions did the evil enter that had
+actually overtaken the family; and now that it had come he could not
+face it.  It hung about him like a dark shadow the depths of which he
+dared not fathom.
+
+His wife leaned over him where he lay on a mat against the wall.  This
+feeble surrender to grief was not at all to her mind, and she had no
+intention of allowing him to take his trouble meekly.
+
+"Husband, you are not well.  The kitchen woman shall make you a hot
+drink that will warm your heart."
+
+"My heart is already too hot!  I have swallowed the red-hot balls that
+Yama prepares for the cursed after death.  I want for nothing but
+relief from my pain; and who can give that?"
+
+"Lying here with a broken spirit will not bring relief.  It is a
+mistake to grieve while there is hope, unless it be for an hour or two
+as I and my women lamented last night.  This morning I rise refreshed
+and ready to do battle with the evil.  The struggle has begun and it
+has begun well.  The boy broke the waterpot, struck the sweeper and
+commanded him to get out of his sight.  He also refused his food last
+night.  It must have tempted him sorely for I superintended the
+preparation of it myself; and I have not forgotten his tastes."
+
+She sat down by the recumbent figure and passed her long soft hands
+over his limbs with a soothing touch.
+
+"My boy went starving to bed?"
+
+"As an ill-behaved son should!"
+
+"He ate very little in the train, saying that he would the better enjoy
+his mother's curry.  Eiheu!" he drew in his breath and breathed it out
+in a sigh.  "He must have suffered in his hunger!"
+
+Gunga's eyes flashed angrily, the lids closing quickly with an ominous
+snapping movement.
+
+"Let him suffer!  His troubles and his hunger have only just begun.
+They are nothing to what will follow if he remains obstinate," she said
+vindictively.  "With your brother's help we shall bring down his pride
+in time."
+
+Pantulu moved his hand as if in protestation.  "Is it necessary?  Can
+we not try other means first?"
+
+The thought of cruelties practised upon his son was unbearable.
+
+"Get up and speak to him yourself.  Perhaps he will listen and then
+there will be no need for punishment.  Point out how he has sinned, not
+only against us, his parents, but against your dead father, your
+grandfather and his father.  The shraddah ceremonies have been
+faithfully performed by you.  Through your good offices the spirits of
+your ancestors rest in peace; but when you die, who is to perform the
+rites by which your spirit will find happiness?  Your
+great-great-grandfather will not suffer; your ceremonies have released
+him; but if your son cannot and will not perform the necessary rites,
+you and three generations behind you will remain in the power of Yama
+to be plagued as the god of death wills.  What does that mean but
+rebirths innumerable to a life of suffering and degradation?  Is the
+peace of four departed members of the family to be imperilled because a
+wilful son refuses to do his duty?  He must be forced to abandon his
+strange opinions.  He must be obliged by some means or other to perform
+the rites for the restitution of his caste; and he must and shall be
+the chief mourner at the death of his father whenever that may be."
+
+The last words rang out clearly so that they could be heard by the
+whole household.  They carried conviction to every listener.  No one
+doubted that the mother would prevail in the end.  Even Pantulu himself
+with all his weakness born of his intense love for his son admitted
+that she was right; that at all costs Ananda must be made to renounce
+his new faith.
+
+If no son were at hand to perform the funeral rites at his cremation
+and afterwards on the anniversary of his death, he must assuredly be
+born again as an unhappy beast of burden; or as some loathsome creature
+whose very existence was misery and against whom every man's hand was
+turned.  As Pantulu continued silent Gunga took up her parable again.
+
+"When the horse is wilful it is beaten; when the bullock is obstinate
+it is goaded.  When a son is disobedient his parents use the means
+provided by the gods to bring him into subjection.  What I have done
+thus far is nothing! nothing! but before proceeding further I will
+leave my husband to exercise his authority.  Rise! be a man! be a
+father worthy of the name!  Rise and speak to him.  Show him clearly
+all that is involved in his foolish action.  Argue with him.  Aye! if
+it pleases you beg of him to consider, to have pity on his father, to
+have mercy on his mother.  If he remains obstinate have him beaten and
+starved and brought low with pain and hunger----"
+
+"Woman! he is my son! my beloved child!  I hurt him once when I struck
+him in my surprise and anger.  I cannot hurt him again!"
+
+The tears welled in the haggard eyes and ran unchecked down the old
+cheeks.  She uttered an exclamation of contemptuous impatience.
+
+"You are weak, too weak to lead a headstrong boy.  However, no good can
+come of lying here.  Get up and try what the tongue can do."
+
+Pantulu raised himself from the mat, shook out the crumpled folds of
+his muslin garments.  His heart ached for his son, and he was conscious
+of only one desire--to put his arms about his neck and thank the gods
+that his boy was safe home again.  His anger had evaporated in the
+ebullition with which the announcement was greeted.  Already he was
+secretly repenting that he had cursed him; and he would have recalled
+his maledictions if he could have done so without raising the ire of
+his wife.
+
+"Where is he?" he asked dispiritedly.
+
+"He walks at the further end of the compound."
+
+Pantulu moved away towards the back of the house and passed through the
+garden.  He entered the grassy compound by the doorway in the mud wall
+that enclosed the garden.  At the further end from the road he caught
+sight of a figure.  With his hands behind his back Ananda stood looking
+at the mountain.  His thoughts were in the past when he and his father
+started out for the forest.  By some instinct he turned at the approach
+of the older man and fixed on him a startled gaze.  For the first time
+he noticed how Pantulu had aged.  He stooped as he walked, and dragged
+his legs listlessly.  Ananda strode forward and fell at Pantulu's feet
+as the pariah had prostrated himself the day before.
+
+"Excellent and honourable father! at last my prayer is granted, and I
+am permitted to see and speak with you."
+
+"Rise, my son; I am sorry you have had to wait.  Since my return I have
+not felt well."
+
+The watching woman looking through the Venetians saw the meeting and
+the son's obeisance.  "Now, if he will press the boy whilst his heart
+melts within him, he may bring him to reason," she said to herself.
+She called to her brother-in-law.  "See! my husband brings his son to
+the house.  They will come into the verandah.  Quick! hide beneath the
+window that is behind the bench where he usually sits.  Listen to all
+that is said and bear it in mind.  I must know every word that passes
+between them."
+
+As Pantulu and Ananda moved towards the house the former asked if the
+other had breakfasted.
+
+"I had some biscuits," replied Ananda.  He thought it wiser not to
+mention the milk lest he should get the pariah into trouble and stop
+the supply.  "I cannot eat food sent by the hand of the sweeper."
+
+"It is impossible!" murmured Pantulu with a shudder.  "Ah!  I am glad
+that my boy has not been obliged to defile himself in that way.  For
+drink, what have you done?  Have you found means to satisfy your thirst
+without defilement?"
+
+"That also I have accomplished."
+
+"Your mother must not know."
+
+"It is by my mother's orders that I am thus treated?"
+
+"It is done by the consent of the whole family, not by the mother
+alone," said Pantulu, unwilling to hurt Ananda's feelings.
+
+"You are ruler in your own house, excellency.  Order one of the women
+servants to attend upon me.  It hurts the caste of no one to carry food
+to the outcaste."
+
+"Inside the house your mother rules, as is the custom among families
+like ours.  I cannot interfere; but I can speak to her and ask her to
+give the order.  If I can take good news she may listen."
+
+"Good news; what does that mean?" asked Ananda.
+
+"That you will give up your strange madness and allow the caste
+restoration ceremonies to take place."
+
+Ananda did not reply.  His father's eyes searched his face with
+undisguised anxiety for sign of a favourable response.  He only saw a
+tightening of the lower lip and slight protruding of the jaw with an
+unconscious toss of the head.  He remembered the trick of old and all
+that it implied.  The deep underlying obstinacy that had ever been the
+one fault of the boy was still there ready to uphold new beliefs,
+prematurely formed in his father's opinion and without sufficient
+consideration.  His heart sank within him and he was silent during the
+rest of the way.
+
+They arrived at the house and mounted the steps that led up to the
+front door.  The door was closed and the verandah was empty.  Pantulu
+took his seat upon a broad bench and drew his feet up beneath him.  It
+was as Gunga had said, just under a window.  He signed to his son to
+sit on the same bench by his side.
+
+"No harm will have been done by your having called yourself a Christian
+in a foreign land," continued Pantulu, resolutely looking away from his
+companion's face, that he might not be discouraged by what was so
+manifest there.  "The ceremonies will be of a character to restore you
+even if you have sinned greatly.  I have money enough to satisfy the
+purohits.  There are worse offences than the one you have committed.
+You have not killed a Brahman, for instance."
+
+"I told you, oh excellent father, that having taken this step there is
+no going back," said Ananda, at last, in a low voice.
+
+"I say there is; there must be a going back.  Your deeds can be undone,
+expiated.  Listen!"  Pantulu controlled his excitement and continued
+more quietly.  "Listen, my son.  Let me put before you all that it
+means if you refuse to come back to us.  Who is to perform the funeral
+rites at my death if you cannot be chief mourner?  Are they to be left
+unperformed?  Is my spirit to wander as a wretched ghost and be born
+again as an unhappy contemptible pariah or beast because my son refuses
+to fulfil his duties?"
+
+"You will never be born again on this earth, my father; you will never
+become a man or a beast again," cried Ananda, his eyes aglow with
+enthusiasm.  "The man-God of the Christians came to open men's eyes to
+better things, to assure the world of immediate pardon for sin, and to
+promise a happiness after death far exceeding any earthly happiness.
+Think what a glorious future He offers to us in place of the hopeless
+cycles of rebirths."
+
+Pantulu shook his head in perplexity, not without fear at the blasphemy
+against Hinduism that fell upon his startled ears.
+
+"Our faith was ancient before ever the man-God of the Christians was
+born.  Were the millions, who lived and died before His time, living
+and dying in error?"
+
+"They lived and died according to the light given to them by God.  When
+Christ was born, a new light came into the world.  It is by following
+the new light that I have found my hope in a glorious future, an
+existence of joy and happiness surpassing even the Nirvana itself; for
+we shall retain our personality and consciousness which is denied to
+those who look for absorption in the Hindu Deity.  Try and realise the
+joy that you and I, my beloved father, will feel when we meet in that
+golden future.  At Coomara's death I was in despair.  Every time I
+heard a dog shriek or saw a horse overloaded and beaten, I thought of
+my friend suffering similar pains; and all for no fault of his!  It was
+intolerable in its injustice; I could not bear it.  Then I met the
+family of an Englishman who was killed suddenly; and I wondered at
+their peace, their resignation, their perfect faith in his happiness
+and their belief in a future meeting.  When I found that the secret lay
+in their religion what could I conclude but that their religion must be
+better and more advanced than mine?"
+
+Pantulu had listened unwillingly at first and with prejudice; gradually
+his curiosity was aroused; he wanted to learn what it was that had
+attracted Ananda and taken so strong a hold upon him.  Moreover the
+charm of hearing his son's voice once more exercised a kind of hypnotic
+influence, causing him almost to forget the vital issues of their
+conversation and their variance of opinion.  There was comfort also in
+proximity.  The poor old man found delight in the mere touch of his
+boy's hand.  Nothing could kill the paternal love that had filled
+Pantulu's life.
+
+In the distance he heard his wife speaking sharply to one of her women
+in the kitchen.  The sound made him start guiltily.  What had he been
+doing?  Listening to rank heresy instead of preaching orthodoxy.  He
+pulled himself together with an effort.
+
+"My son, the Christian faith may be all very well for Christians.  We
+are Hindus, born, by a fate over which we have no control, in the Hindu
+faith.  The faith is bound up with our social and political laws and
+cannot be separated.  Let me point out to you how important it is that
+you should make no change.  If by remaining an outcaste you cannot
+fulfil the part of chief mourner at my death, the law of caste--and it
+is upheld by our country's law--disinherits you, You cannot inherit any
+of my wealth, my lands, my houses, my looms, my silk farms, my jewels
+and hoard of silver.  Not a single rupee will be yours if another hand
+drops the rice and butter into the fire before my dead body immediately
+after death; if another bears the pot of fire in my funeral procession;
+if another lights the funeral pile.  Would you wish to lose your
+birthright, the riches that should be yours, the honour as head of one
+of the oldest and most respected families of Chirakul?  Would you
+deliberately make yourself a pauper, an outcaste, despised even by the
+pariahs?  Consider well all that you propose to sacrifice."
+
+Once more Pantulu gazed anxiously into his boy's face for a sign that
+he relented, that his pleading had prevailed; and his heart sank within
+him as he noted the tightening of the lower lip and the obstinate tilt
+of the chin.  Again he spoke, repeating the old arguments, enumerating
+the property that should one day belong to his son; but without avail.
+At length Ananda made a kind of response in putting a question.
+
+"If I do not take upon myself the duties of chief mourner, on whom do
+they fall?" he asked.
+
+"On your son."
+
+"And the child will inherit your fortune?"
+
+"Everything; and as soon as he comes of age he will take my place in
+the family councils and you will be as one that has died in a foreign
+land."
+
+Ananda rose to his feet intimating that as far as he was concerned the
+interview was at an end.
+
+"Your answer, my son! your answer! what news am I to carry to your
+mother?" cried Pantulu, in sudden dismay, as he realised two facts--his
+son was leaving him, and he had failed miserably in his attempt to win
+him back.
+
+"I have nothing to say that has not been already said."  Ananda spoke
+with evident pain.  It grieved him to wound his father by refusing to
+comply with his wishes.  He knew of what vital importance it was to a
+Hindu to have the assurance that the funeral rites would be duly
+performed by a fitting and proper member of the family; and he found
+the greatest difficulty in maintaining his honesty of speech.  The
+temptation to temporise was strong.  "It is impossible, even if I
+desired it, to re-establish my faith in the Hindu teaching concerning
+the future life.  It is a miserable groping in the dark, a wilful
+blinding of the eyes; the whole thing is a relic of the ancestor
+worship of a barbarous people not worthy of our nation with its present
+civilisation.  I must have something better----"
+
+"My son! my son!" interrupted his father in an agony of disappointment
+and grief.  "It is killing me!  Have mercy on me!  My life is bound up
+in yours!  I cannot live without you!  Keep your beliefs secretly if
+you will, but I beg, I pray you conform outwardly to the faith of your
+ancestors.  In their names I command you to come back and do your
+duty----"
+
+The door of the house opened and Gunga came out confronting her son for
+the first time since his return.  Ananda put the palms of his hands
+together and repeated his greeting mechanically.
+
+"May the gods protect you, most excellent and beloved mother!"
+
+She received the salutations with an exclamation of contempt.
+
+"Call me not mother!  Unhappy woman that I am to have given birth to
+such a breaker of our most sacred laws.  Go! get out of the house which
+you have dishonoured!  See!" she pointed to Pantulu, who had drooped
+where he sat till he seemed to crouch in abject misery.  "See how he is
+stricken!  It is the hand of a wicked son who has dealt the blow.  May
+that hand be accursed!  May its owner be condemned to cycles of
+wretched rebirths!"
+
+She poured out a string of curses upon him and he fled.  Obstinate yet
+strangely craven, he clung desperately to the new faith which alone
+held out a promise of salvation from the awful fate invoked by his
+mother.  Her very maledictions drove him to his new leader Christ.  His
+father's entreaties only placed before him anew the tenets that had
+filled him with such horror.  Already he had had experience of the
+persecution he was likely to meet with if he persisted in his adherence
+to Christianity.  He shrank from physical pain with the timidity of a
+child; but for all that he preferred to face the ills of this life to
+the terrors of the Hindu life to come.
+
+With his heart thumping like a hammer he regained his room and sat down
+to collect the thoughts scattered by the sudden and unexpected
+onslaught made by his mother.  His spirit rose in a wordless prayer; it
+seemed to steep itself in the new light, and again he was sensible of a
+blessed peace that soothed and calmed his disordered mind.  His courage
+returned, and he deliberately set himself to recall his father's words.
+What was it that he had said about disinheritance?  He must have made a
+mistake.  The solution of the difficulty would be found in the making
+of a will.  His father must have a proper will drawn up by which his
+son was named as his heir.  He must have another interview.  On second
+thoughts perhaps it would be better to write his request.
+
+Taking out his writing case he set to work at once.  The time slipped
+by without his knowledge.  He looked at his watch; it was three
+o'clock.  The sweeper did not appear and no food was sent.  The
+omission did not trouble him.  Again he satisfied his hunger with
+biscuits and tried to forget his thirst.
+
+The sun set and the tropical night approached.  He listened for the
+step of the despised pariah, but the man did not come to perform any of
+his duties.  The excitement of the journey and return home had worn
+off, and Ananda was conscious of an oppressive dullness.  He lighted
+the dim oil lamp and a little later lay down on his cot.
+
+He was in a sound sleep when he was awakened by the falling of some
+little stones near the cot.  A whisper reached his ears.
+
+"Excellency! the cow is here.  Come for your milk."
+
+Ananda rose at once and crept out of his room in silence.  He followed
+the pariah to the wall that divided the compound from the road.  A
+herdsman of his own caste handed him a bottle of milk over the wall,
+just drawn from the cow for which he paid him the current price with a
+small sum in addition for his trouble in bringing the cow at such an
+hour.  The man went away immediately.
+
+"Excellency, no food was sent to-day by my hand," said the sweeper.
+"It did not matter since your honour could not eat it; but the meaning
+of such treatment must be understood.  The big mistress hopes to starve
+your excellency into obedience.  This she can only do when there is no
+more money left in your honour's moneybag.  Be careful of your rupees.
+I can bring the cow but I cannot bring rupees and the cow will not come
+without the rupees."
+
+The man mounted the wall with the intention of returning to his home.
+
+"Why did you not come to-day to sweep the yard?" asked Ananda.
+
+"I was forbidden by the big mistress.  The order has been given that no
+one is to speak with your honour or approach your room.  To-morrow
+night I will come and bring the herdsman with his cow."
+
+The following morning Ananda wrote another letter which he posted
+himself in the town.  It was addressed to Dr. Wenaston, Principal of
+the College of Chirapore; and the long epistle he had prepared for his
+father remained in his writing case undelivered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+A soft, balmy air brushed the blossoms of the eucharis lilies, and
+swept over the delicate green maidenhair fern growing under the shade
+of the verandah of the Principal's house.  Out in the broad sunshine
+the blue ipomea, the morning glory of the Indian garden, opened its
+mass of azure blooms and spread a gorgeous mantle over the bamboo
+trellis that supported it.
+
+The plump rounded figure of Mrs. Hulver, Dr. Wenaston's housekeeper,
+appeared on the raised verandah, followed by the butler.  She was a
+widow and had been married three times, a fact that no one of her
+acquaintance was permitted to forget.
+
+Her father was a British soldier of Scotch birth; and her mother a
+Eurasian.  In her youth Maria had some pretensions to good looks.  It
+was the prettiness of youth so often seen where the blood of the east
+and the west is mixed.  Her small regular features and olive complexion
+could make no claim to beauty in her mature middle age, when her figure
+had lost its delicate proportions and gained in amplitude.  The eyes
+alone were unaltered.  She had her Scotch father's grey eyes with his
+keen glance.  Nothing escaped them, as the servants knew by experience;
+and when they failed to elucidate a domestic mystery her inherited
+shrewdness came to her assistance.
+
+At the age of sixteen a marriage was made for her by her mother, who
+chose a prosperous and not over-scrupulous overseer in the Public Works
+Department named William Delaine.  He was more than double the age of
+his bride; and had lived long enough to put together a nice little
+property in houses and land.  There were no children, and when he died
+ten years later he left everything to his widow.
+
+Her second marriage was to an Englishman, whose regiment was stationed
+at Bangalore.  Corporal William Smith was a reserved man of a
+thoroughly British temperament, endowed with a rugged honesty that
+despised any sort of evasion of the truth in speech or action.
+Uncompromisingly straightforward he did much to carry on the early
+training of Maria's mind begun by her father.  She was very happy with
+William Smith in a placid way, and bore him a son who was educated in
+the barrack-school and in due time drafted into the drummer-boy corps
+attached to the regiment.  Later the boy enlisted and followed in the
+footsteps of his father.  William Smith was about to take his pension
+and return to England when he was struck down with malarial fever; and
+for the second time in her life Maria became a widow.
+
+Her third husband was an Irish soldier who had been pensioned and
+elected to remain in the country.  He also bore the name of William.
+Being of a good-natured domesticated disposition, Hulver cast his eyes
+round the large domiciled European and Eurasian community in Bangalore
+for a suitable wife.  Mrs. William Smith seemed in every way the woman
+to fill the position.  She was of the right age, unencumbered by
+children except for the one son who was provided for.  In addition she
+owned a nice little property which, with his pension, would make life
+easy and comfortable.
+
+A little hitch at one time seemed likely to upset his plans.  It was a
+matter of religion.  Hulver was a Roman Catholic.  Maria belonged to
+the English Church.  He made an effort to bring her over to his side,
+but she stood firm; and sooner than lose so desirable a partner he
+joined her Church.  They were very happy, but unfortunately he did not
+live long, and for the third time she was widowed.  After his death she
+found life very dull.  She determined to take a situation as
+housekeeper and advertised in one of the big Indian daily newspapers.
+
+Eola Wenaston, who came out with her brother on his appointment as
+Principal of the College of Chirapore, saw the advertisement and
+engaged her.  The arrangement proved highly satisfactory to both.
+During Dr. and Miss Wenaston's six months' holiday in England Mrs.
+Hulver occupied one of her own houses at Bangalore.  The enforced
+idleness was not at all to her mind, and she welcomed their return with
+unmixed joy.
+
+In her holiday she replenished her wardrobe by the aid of a tailor.
+The new muslins and white drill frocks were cut exactly on the old
+pattern--a skirt that gave plenty of room and spread like a bell over
+her feet; a bodice that showed no fashionable bulge in sleeve or
+shoulder but confined her figure decently and comfortably.  White linen
+collar and cuffs and neatly fastened waistband completed her daily
+costume.  On Sunday Mrs. Hulver was another person.  Her silks "stood
+alone," as she herself expressed it; and the flowers of her bonnet
+would have covered half a market stall had they been real.
+
+Mrs. Hulver stood on the top step under the large portico, her clean
+white skirt extended with starch, her hands folded and a severe
+expression on her face.  Ramachetty, the butler, a middle-aged
+under-sized native with an apologetic manner, fidgeted behind her in
+evident discomfort.  She addressed him in English over her shoulder.
+The native tongue was perfectly familiar; it had been her own in her
+mother's house; but she chose English as being more in keeping with her
+dignity as a housekeeper and it assisted to maintain her character as
+an Englishwoman, which she was not.
+
+"Call the gardener," she said, with a clear enunciation and very little
+Eurasian accent.  From her father and two of her husbands she had
+picked up a curious mixture of expressions.
+
+Probably the summons was expected; for the gardener appeared from
+behind the bungalow with the abruptness of a jack-in-the-box.
+
+"Tell him to bring the pots of roses here."
+
+Out came a fat forefinger that pointed to the spot and remained
+pointing.  Ignoring the fact that the gardener understood English the
+butler translated the order into the language of the country.  The man
+hurried away, and by the aid of an assistant brought twelve large pots
+of roses.  They were solemnly placed in a row under the portico on the
+spot to which the finger pointed.  Seven of the plants bore double pink
+blossoms.  The remaining five had crimson flowers of the kind known as
+the China rose, a stock upon which the Indian gardener buds the better
+class of plant.  There was an ominous silence during which Mrs. Hulver
+looked from the roses to the gardener and back again at the roses.
+Then she spoke.
+
+"Two years ago our missie bought twelve pink _France_ roses with a
+sweet smell.  How is it that five of them have turned red and lost
+their smell."
+
+The gardener chattered fast in his own tongue.  He explained that
+during the absence in England of the master and the missie there had
+been strange kind of weather.  The weather had poisoned the flowers and
+made them turn colour and lose their scent.  This preposterous
+statement was too much for Mrs. Hulver's dignified patience.  She
+abandoned her high-class English and let herself go in the native
+tongue.
+
+How dared he tell her such a tale!  Whoever heard of the weather
+changing the colour of flowers?  Was it the rain or the sun?  It was
+neither; the mischief was done in the night, stoutly maintained the
+gardener.  Then, as she kept an incredulous silence, he asked
+querulously, if it was any stranger than that carriages should run
+along the road without horses, and messages be sent without messengers.
+Were the English to be the only wonder-workers?  Could not the gods of
+India----?  She cut him short.  While he chattered she had framed her
+line of conduct.
+
+"There is no wonder about the business except that the master keeps
+such a budmash on the premises.  If the plants had been properly
+watered and tended in the master's absence, the weather would not have
+affected them.  It is only neglected plants that are affected by bad
+weather."  She paused to allow her grey eye to rest upon him; and he
+shifted uneasily from one foot to the other under her scrutiny.  "Do
+you hear, gardener?  They must be nursed back to their proper
+condition.  There will be a fine of one rupee for each pot.  As soon as
+they recover, the fine will be returned; but until the twelve roses
+bear proper double pink flowers with full, good smell the money will be
+stopped out of your pay.  Each pay-day before giving the wages I shall
+come and look at the roses."
+
+The fat finger was withdrawn.  Mrs. Hulver turned slowly round and
+sailed back into the bungalow.
+
+"What were you scolding the gardener for?" asked Eola, after she left
+the breakfast-room and sought the house-keeper to consult with her on
+the day's menu.
+
+"I had to talk to him, miss.  He has been misbehaving himself while I
+have been away.  Five of those _France_ roses that you are so fond of
+are missing, and China plants put in their places."
+
+"My beautiful _La France_ roses gone!" cried Eola, with regret.  "I
+suppose he let them die by neglecting to water and has put others in
+the pots thinking we should not discover the loss."
+
+"Not he! the spalpeen!  He has changed them--sold the good ones and
+stolen some common plants to fill up with."
+
+"What did he say for himself when you accused him of it?"
+
+"That's just what I didn't do miss; I took care not to make any
+accusation.  As William--that was my second--used to say, 'Think all
+you like but keep your thoughts to yourself if you want to get even
+with a bad man.'  I kept my thoughts to myself; and when the gardener
+had the impudence to tell me that the weather had turned the roses from
+pink to red, I said that if he didn't nurse them back to their right
+colour you would fine him.  They will all return," she continued
+confidently; "You will have your dozen favourites in a few weeks' time."
+
+Eola was accustomed to Mrs. Hulver's methods of ruling the
+establishment, and knew better than to interfere, although she did not
+approve of mulcting her servants of their pay.
+
+"Supposing he has sold them; what will you do then?"
+
+"He'll steal them back or buy them back for a small sum.  Trust him for
+finding out a way to save himself from a big fine such as we shall
+insist on!  As William--that was my first--used to say (he was
+country-born and knew the native): 'Give them a chance of straightening
+things, and they'll do it as soon as they know that you've found them
+out; and they will respect you all the more for obliging them to be
+honest.'"
+
+"If the gardener is dishonest perhaps it would be better to dismiss him
+and get another."
+
+"Gardeners in these parts go with the houses; and like husbands you've
+got to put up with them.  Besides, it is my experience that you may
+change and change, whether it's a servant or a husband, and find
+yourself no better off and no worse off in the end, provided you don't
+have extraordinary bad luck.  They're as like in their separate ways,
+both servants and husbands, as the cocoanut trees.  The only difference
+you can see in the cocoanut trees is the way they stand.  One will lean
+to one side and another to the other side, and no two will lean just
+alike.  As William--that was my third--(he was born in Ireland) used to
+say: 'Maria, me dear!  God made us men as we are; and if it weren't for
+the trials that we bring ye, ye'd just grow yer wings and fly away; and
+then, bedad! where should we poor men be widout ye?'  He had a nice
+pleasant way with him, but it was balanced by his fondness for drink;
+for _that_ was the way he leaned."
+
+Eola brought the conversation back to the business of the morning and
+began to discuss the lunch and dinner.  Ramachetty and the cook were
+called, and the orders for the day given.  She sat down at her writing
+table and entered the daily marketing account in the book kept for that
+purpose.  The butler stood at her elbow on the right and Mrs. Hulver
+took up her position on the left.  There was never any deviation from
+this little domestic ritual.
+
+The butler proceeded with his list of purchases; firewood, ghee,
+soup-meat, mutton, potatoes, fish, eggs, naming the price of each.
+Once Mrs. Hulver coughed, and he corrected himself, taking off half an
+anna.  At another item she moved from one foot to the other, but
+remained silent.  He paused, and as the warning note of the cough was
+not sounded, he passed on to the next entry, letting the overcharge,
+which was very small, stand.
+
+"Carrots, two annas," he continued.
+
+"Carrots!" ejaculated Mrs. Hulver sharply.
+
+"Carrots, two annas," repeated the butler, sticking manfully to his
+story.
+
+"Fetch them!"
+
+The cook who was waiting behind the butler ran off to the kitchen and
+returned with four limp dry roots which he exhibited with many
+misgivings.
+
+"Six-day-old carrots," commented Mrs. Hulver, with fine scorn.  "They
+were entered in the account last Friday.  Cross off 'carrots, two
+annas,' please, miss."
+
+The butler accepted the correction without another word, and proceeded
+to the end of his list.  Eola would willingly have dispensed with some
+of the details, but Mrs. Hulver was inexorable.
+
+"It must be done, miss," she had said in reply.  "As long as you can
+hold a pen you must take down the daily account.  If by any chance you
+were ill then I should be obliged to do it; but Ramachetty and I shall
+remain better friends if I have nothing to do with the bookkeeping."
+
+"You have something to do with it, Mrs. Hulver.  You check his attempts
+at cheating."
+
+"I keep them down to reasonable proportions.  As William--that was my
+second (he was a very straight-minded man)--used to say: 'Keep others
+honest and they'll keep you up to the mark.'"
+
+When the accounts were finished and the butler and cook dismissed, Eola
+turned to her housekeeper.
+
+"Mrs. Hulver!" she said.
+
+"Yes, miss."
+
+There was a slight pause, during which Eola turned back again to the
+writing-table.  The pen was still in her hand and wet with ink.  In
+absence of mind she dotted the margin of the account book, her thoughts
+far away.
+
+"Yes, miss," repeated Mrs. Hulver, whose grey eyes searched Eola's face.
+
+"Ah! yes!  What was I going to say?  Oh!  I know.  I wanted to tell you
+that we have a visitor coming."
+
+Mrs. Hulver was not so easily deceived.  Miss Wenaston had not
+forgotten the subject of her communication, and the news she was about
+to impart was no news to her housekeeper.
+
+"Who is it?" asked Mrs. Hulver, innocently.
+
+"Dr. Wenaston has invited Mr. Alderbury to come and stay here a few
+days.  He has business in Chirapore.  Will you see to the spare room.
+I brought out new curtains and chintz to re-cover the sofa and chairs.
+Set the dirzee to work at once."
+
+"It shall be begun this very day.  I was only thinking about it
+yesterday afternoon when I came in from the town.  It's more than a
+month since you came back, miss; and those curtains have been lying by
+ever since you unpacked them.  As William--that was my first--used to
+say (he was a great man for show, being a Eurasian and a good deal
+darker than me): 'When you've got fine feathers, don't hide them.'
+What brought the spare room to my mind was Mr. Alderbury's name.  I
+heard that it would be likely that he would be coming to Chirapore
+before long."
+
+"Did you?" asked Eola, looking round at her housekeeper in surprise.
+"I suppose you heard it in the bazaar.  I don't know how these things
+get about, but in this country nothing is sacred from bazaar gossip.
+What do they say?"
+
+"The business of the Reverend Mr. Alderbury is connected with Ananda,
+the son of Pantulu Iyer, a rich native of this town.  Perhaps you know
+the story.  If so, I'd better be going as there is lots to be done this
+morning, and the dirzee is never in the way when he is wanted."
+
+Mrs. Hulver spoke with an injured tone and a misjudged expression on
+her smooth round olive face.  She was an inveterate gossip, and her
+visits to the shops and market were prompted as much by curiosity to
+hear the news as to verify the butler's charges.  Nothing hurt her more
+than to imply a knowledge of this weakness.
+
+She had a little sitting-room that opened into the back verandah.  The
+door was seldom shut in the daytime.  From a point of vantage in the
+doorway she superintended the tailor, and kept an eye on all that went
+on in the back verandah.  She made as though she would seek her room
+with as little delay as possible.  Eola, repentant that she had hurt
+her feelings by remarks about the bazaar gossip, softened in her manner
+and begged to hear the news.
+
+"Do tell me, Mrs. Hulver, what they say.  I have not heard anything
+except that Mr. Alderbury is coming by the Doctor's invitation.  My
+brother only spoke of his visit this morning when he received Mr.
+Alderbury's reply to the invitation.  The Principal was late in getting
+home from his ride, and had to hurry over breakfast to be in College in
+time."
+
+The housekeeper was mollified and the dirzee forgotten in her eagerness
+to relate the news that was already thrilling the town.
+
+"The story goes in the bazaar that Pantulu's son has turned Christian,
+and the whole family is in a great taking about it.  They don't know
+what to do."
+
+"Is that all?  There is nothing much in that.  Of course it is a good
+thing when a native becomes a Christian; but in these days it is not a
+matter to make a fuss about."
+
+Mrs. Hulver regarded her seriously.  She had expected to create
+something of a sensation by the announcement, but Eola took it as a
+trifle hardly worth mention.
+
+"Begging your pardon, miss, there is a great deal in it to create a
+fuss; and what is more the whole town is working itself up into a
+ferment over it.  They say that they have never had a caste man go
+Christian before.  The Christians have always been pariahs and they
+have no caste to matter.  As William--that was my third--used to say:
+'Change your clothes; change your food; change your house if you like;
+but to change your religion is the very divil;' and he knew; for he'd
+been a Roman Catholic and he turned Protestant to marry me."
+
+"How did you manage to persuade him?" asked Eola, her mind once more
+adrift.
+
+Mrs. Hulver was always ready to talk incidentally of her late spouses.
+At the same time she never lost sight of the subject that caused the
+digression.
+
+"He wanted me to change my religion; but I was firm.  I told him that
+if he couldn't take me as I was he might go without me.  I could get on
+without him.  Besides it was only right that he should be the one to
+change, being the gentleman; it is the gentleman that ought to give way
+to the lady all the world over."
+
+"And he fell in with your suggestion?"
+
+"It was the bit of property that did it, though he didn't admit it,"
+replied Mrs. Hulver confidently, the shrewdness of her Scotch ancestry
+peeping out.  "He was drawn to me by two strings, myself for one, and
+my little fortune for the other.  As William--that was my first, him
+that left me the property--used to say: 'It's money that gives you the
+pull when the balance is even.'  But as I was telling you; this son of
+Pantulu Iyer has gone and changed his religion and stirred up a bees'
+nest of buzzing in the town."
+
+"Was it Mr. Alderbury's doing?"
+
+"No; he had nothing to say in the matter; it was all done without his
+knowledge.  Pantulu sent his son to England to finish his education;
+and while he was there, so the tale goes, he saw a very bad accident.
+One of these elevators, these flying men," she explained, as she noted
+a puzzled expression on Eola's face, "fell at his very feet and struck
+down his friend, a native gentleman who was walking with him."  Already
+the story had gathered fiction in its passage from mouth to mouth.
+"The elevator was killed on the spot; but the friend had time to make a
+last request, and it was that Ananda should become a Christian.  He
+never said a word to his people, but got it done on the quiet and
+registered and everything.  It gave his father a terrible shock; it
+nearly killed the poor old gentleman when his son came back and told
+him what had happened.  He is a very rich man and would give a crore of
+rupees to have the mischief undone.  But as William--that was my
+second--used to say: 'Mind your doing, because as a rule there's no
+undoing.'  In this case there can't be any undoing.  Once a Christian
+always a Christian, unless you want to burn."
+
+"I remember Ananda and his friends in London," said Eola, "I was at
+that very meeting and saw the man fall.  Coomara was not killed by the
+aviator, but in a railway accident as he was returning to town."
+
+"Anyway he was killed," replied Mrs. Hulver.  "His death affected his
+friend and made him feel so bad that he turned Christian.  The poor
+young man is having a very rough time with his people.  They are
+determined to knock the Christianity out of him; and it will be a
+pretty stiff fight if he has any spirit.  It is said in the bazaar that
+Mr. Alderbury is coming in from the district to see if he can smooth
+matters down a bit.  As William--that was my third--used to say: 'Let's
+have peace if it's possible; but if it must be war, let's fight to the
+finish! and make it a good one!'"
+
+"He didn't practice what he preached; he gave in," remarked Eola,
+unable to resist poking fun at her devoted housekeeper.
+
+Mrs. Hulver smiled broadly, and was quite ready with her answer.
+
+"You see, miss, there was the lady in the case, meaning me, I can't
+deny but what William, my third, found the change of religion
+troublesome.  It meant new habits and a new grip of the thing.  He was
+never satisfied, and always had the feeling that he had played the
+turncoat.  The trouble was at Christmas time when his weakness overtook
+him.  His leaning was towards whisky, being an Irishman.  It was
+expensive whilst it lasted.  As William--that was my second--used to
+say (he was a teetotaller): 'One vice will cost more than twenty
+virtues.'  In his old religion my third used to go to his priest when
+the fit was over, and get square with himself by a proper penance; but
+when he changed he didn't quite know where he was with himself."
+
+"You should have made him give it up altogether," suggested Eola.
+
+"It was born and bred in him, and he couldn't have given it up to save
+his life.  As William--that was my first--used to say when I complained
+of his Eurasian ways: 'You mustn't expect a wild goose to lay a tame
+egg.'  William my third could no more help being weak at Christmas than
+a child can help over-eating itself."
+
+"Didn't it worry you to have him break out?"
+
+"No, I don't know that it did," replied Mrs. Hulver, placidly.  "It had
+its advantage.  As William--that was my first--used to say when he and
+his contractor settled their accounts: 'Everything has its advantage if
+you know where to look for it.'"
+
+"What advantage could your husband's bout of drinking have for you?"
+asked Eola, glancing at her in mild wonder.
+
+"It gave me my chance of speaking.  When he recovered and could listen
+to reason, even though his poor head ached badly, I had the opportunity
+of letting him have a bit of my mind, and of telling him some home
+truths I never could have put before him at any other time.  Now with
+William, my second, it was different.  He was always ready to come up
+to attention at a moment's notice.  Stiff and straight, he lived by
+rule; and the whole time I was with him I never once got the chance of
+emptying my mind."  Her voice had a distinct ring of regret in it as
+she made the confession.  "I tried it two or three times; but the
+moment I began he rose from his chair and drew himself up haughty and
+proud, just like his colonel when the men came to the orderly room with
+their complaints.  He heard what I had to say in a dead silence, that
+sort of cooled you down, and all he replied was: 'I'll look into the
+matter, Maria, and see what can be done;' and there it ended.  With
+William, my third, it was a real pleasure to rate him.  He was such a
+gentleman in his repentance and his apologies.  But as I was telling
+you, miss, about this poor young man, Pantulu Iyer's son.  I can
+sympathise with him in his change of religion as I sympathised with
+William, my third.  It will take some time before he will get even with
+himself in his new faith."
+
+"The cases are not on all fours, Mrs. Hulver."
+
+"No; they are at sixes and sevens if all I hear is true.  As
+William--that was my second--used to say: 'Keep things straight and
+you'll be master; but let them get at sixes and sevens and they will
+master you.'  He made a great study of his fellowmen and was full of
+wise sayings.  I felt very lonely when he died."
+
+"What did he die of?"
+
+"Microscopes; the doctor said he swallowed some when he was out route"
+(she called it rowte) "marching.  They were in the water that he drank
+by the roadside.  They gave him fever which carried him off in three
+weeks, and left me a widow for the second time."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+There was one subject alone on which Miss Wenaston and her housekeeper
+disagreed.  It had nothing to do with the management of the house.  It
+was marriage.
+
+Mrs. Hulver having entered the bonds of matrimony three times
+considered that she was entitled to speak with authority on the
+condition of wifehood and widowhood.
+
+Eola Wenaston was twenty-seven years of age and unmarried.  When Mrs.
+Hulver had reached that number of years she had been a wife for a
+decade, and had entered upon her first period of widowhood.  Although a
+British father had done much to form her character, her Eurasian mother
+had instilled certain opinions to which she firmly adhered.  One fixed
+belief, as strong as any article of her faith, was that every woman
+ought to be married.  It was the duty of relatives and guardians to
+forward that end; it was even still more the duty of the woman herself
+to attract and secure the best husband available without immodesty.
+
+Miss Wenaston she found sadly wanting in self-help.  Dr. Wenaston, her
+brother, was a very busy and sometimes overworked man.  He did his best
+in Mrs. Hulver's opinion when he invited men to his house.  His
+efforts, conscious or unconscious--Mrs. Hulver was not sure which--were
+not supported as they should have been by his sister.  She made no
+attempt to attract in dress or manner.  She was content to wear the
+same dinner-dress that served when she and her brother were alone; and
+she did not hesitate to allow Dr. Wenaston to absorb all the
+conversation if he chose, remaining silent through the dinner and
+perhaps through the whole evening as well.  This was altogether a
+mistake, as Mrs. Hulver tried in vain to point out more than once.
+Eola listened in perfect good nature, but her replies were not
+encouraging, and the housekeeper was vaguely conscious that she was
+being kept in her place.  She persevered however, and never lost an
+opportunity of putting in a word as far as she dared; but she always
+felt that there was a barrier that she might not pass.
+
+A certain Major Ellingham appeared at Chirapore on his way to a
+shooting expedition in the Western Ghats.  He was entertained by Dr.
+Wenaston for a week while the camping preparations were made.  Mrs.
+Hulver devoted her attention to the catering; and with the assistance
+of Ramachetty and the cook sent in such meals as elicited the guest's
+warm approval.  In the evening as she sat in her wicker-chair by the
+open door of her sitting-room, she smiled as she heard the strains of
+the piano, and Ellingham's fine baritone in "Love's old sweet song," or
+some such melody.
+
+Nothing came of it, however; and the guest departed as heart-whole as
+he left Eola herself.  Mrs. Hulver's even temperament was ruffled by a
+wave of annoyance as she thought of the enhanced bazaar account and all
+the trouble she had been put to in devising dainty cooking.  One
+morning she ventured to suggest to Miss Wenaston that Major Ellingham
+would make a good husband.  Eola agreed readily enough.
+
+"Probably he will pick up some nice girl by and by, when his head is
+less full of shooting big game," she said indifferently.
+
+"He is not the man to care for a young girl, miss.  I take it from his
+appearance and general bearing that when he makes his choice, it will
+fall on a lady with some experience of the world, like yourself and
+about your own age."
+
+Eola laughed outright and Mrs. Hulver was hurt.  A joke she could
+understand, but ridicule was like a red hot iron, and she shrank into
+herself.  Eola saw that her mirth gave offence, and she hastened to
+soothe and make amends.
+
+"You need have no fear, Mrs. Hulver.  He doesn't take my fancy, nor do
+I take his; so there is no likelihood of your losing me."
+
+"It's not that, miss, which troubles me," the housekeeper explained.
+"Gladly would I see you go as I went myself to the arms of a husband.
+It's the proper place for every right-minded woman.  As William----"
+
+Eola interrupted her with another laugh that she found impossible to
+repress.
+
+"You and I don't agree on the subject of marriage and never shall.  I
+am single and you were very much married----"
+
+Mrs. Hulver bridled and broke in upon her speech with some indignation.
+
+"Indeed, miss!  I was no more married than I ought to have been.  To
+have been less married with my three husbands wouldn't have been
+respectable.  And I am sure it has helped me along; I should have been
+a poor thing without it.  As William--that was my second--used to say:
+'Humble wedlock is better than proud singleness.  Marriage is like a
+good pair of boots to a woman.  It will carry her through fair weather
+and foul.  If the boots wear out before their time the best thing to do
+is to get another pair.'  He talked like that when I was hesitating
+about taking him.  It was not the man himself that made me doubt but
+the way he leaned.  It was all towards truth and honesty."
+
+"You are truthful and honest, Mrs. Hulver," protested Eola.  "Don't say
+you are not or you won't be doing yourself justice."
+
+"I have always shrunk from lies and thieving," admitted Mrs. Hulver.
+"I never could stoop to low conduct of any kind.  But there is truth
+and truth.  As William--that was my third--used to say when I gave him
+a talking to: 'Lay it on mild, me dear.  Truth is like a mustard
+plaster.  It may be very good for the patient but you've got to be
+careful how you apply it or you may hurt your best friend more than a
+little.'  What troubled me was whether I could live up to the standard
+of my second."
+
+"You might have been happier if you had not married him," said Eola,
+with a twinkle in her eye, as she controlled her lips.
+
+"I couldn't have been happy alone with nothing to live up to and no one
+to tend.  I chanced it and found it quite easy.  All I had to be
+careful about was to prevent anything from coming to his knowledge that
+was not up to his mark.  I soon got used to keeping things smooth; and
+there was never a married man happier than my second."
+
+The thought of her success as William the second's wife restored her
+tranquillity of mind, and she left Eola to go about her duties in her
+usual contented frame of mind.
+
+An Assistant Resident was the next person who all unconsciously
+fluttered Mrs. Hulver's hopes, raising them with regard to Eola only to
+dash them to the ground again.  It so happened that a man came to act
+for six months whilst the permanent Assistant Resident was away on
+leave.  He was unmarried, musical, and a great reader.  Inclination and
+compatability of tastes often brought him to the college either to
+discuss new writers with Dr. Wenaston, or to try over new music with
+Eola.
+
+Once more Mrs. Hulver concentrated her attention and energy on culinary
+matters.  She had not been the chosen partner of three husbands without
+discovering how great a factor the food question is in the life of a
+man.  She was able to quote from the sayings of all three on the
+subject.  The Assistant Resident ate such dinners at the college house
+as he never forgot; but the way to his heart in his case was not
+through the stomach.  Over the music and books he made a certain amount
+of progress; and had he seen any response to encourage him, he might
+have fallen into the belief that Eola was the one desirable woman in
+the world for him; but there was no such encouragement.  At the end of
+six months he went away; and it was Mrs. Hulver's heart, not Eola's,
+that sank in despair.
+
+"Mr. Fressenden will miss you and the Doctor, miss," remarked Mrs.
+Hulver, austerely, the morning after his departure.  "You have been
+very hospitable to him."
+
+"I daresay he will," was the indifferent reply.
+
+"He should get married.  An Assistant Resident has to receive a lot of
+company; and a house without a woman at the head makes a poor show."
+
+"Our present Assistant has a very nice wife."
+
+"It's a wonder that Mr. Fressenden doesn't follow his example."
+
+"He will find a wife in time," replied Eola, as she added up the column
+of figures given her by the butler that morning.  "I make it half an
+anna less than Ramachetty.  I must go over it again."
+
+"He had better not be too long about finding a wife," continued Mrs.
+Hulver, determined not to let the subject drop till she had had her
+say.  "If a man waits too long he ages in looks and manners, and he is
+not taken for himself.  He may think that he is, for God deals out
+vanity with a liberal hand when a boy is born.  But with a middle-aged
+man there are other considerations at the back of a woman's mind
+besides love; like houses, for instance."  She broke off shortly with a
+little laugh.  "It tells on both sides for that matter.  If
+William--that was my first--hadn't had a little property behind him, my
+mother would never have chosen him for her daughter with his dark
+complexion."
+
+"Was he very much darker?  After all I think Ramachetty is right, and
+that it is my mistake not his."
+
+"He was quite four shades darker than me; some people might have said
+it was five; but that was his age.  Being older than me he showed it
+more."
+
+"Yes, the butler has added it up correctly," said Eola, laying down her
+pen.  "You were telling me about your first husband.  It must have been
+a drawback to have had him darker than yourself."
+
+"I am not so sure, miss, that it wasn't an advantage.  William knew
+that he was blacker than me by several shades, and that I was his
+superior in European descent.  Both his parents were Eurasians.  With
+me it was only on one side, my mother's.  That being so he never dared
+to cheek me or speak disrespectfully as country-born people are apt to
+do when they lose their tempers.  It's a very powerful thing in our
+sex, is the tongue.  I'm sure I don't know what we poor women would do
+without it.  As William--that was my third--used to say: 'The tongue is
+a wonderful thing, Maria, me dear!  It may be as sweet as sugar; or
+sharp as a lime; or as stinging as red pepper.'  He used to add that
+the devil himself loosened Eve's tongue for her when she took the
+apple, knowing that she would have no chance with ould Adam unless she
+had that advantage."
+
+Yet a third prospective husband, in Mrs. Hulver's opinion, appeared in
+the person of an executive engineer in the service of Government.  He
+was highly favoured by the housekeeper since Delaine, her first
+husband, had been a subordinate in that same service.  With renewed
+hope she flung herself into the campaign, and left nothing undone in
+the commissariat department that might propitiate and lead on a
+faltering suitor.
+
+It was all to no purpose.  He departed like the other two without
+speaking; and Mrs. Hulver in her vexation could not refrain from
+unburdening herself on the subject at the first opportunity.
+
+"When a man in the Public Works Department gets to be an executive
+engineer he ought to have a wife.  Mr. Fearing is just throwing away
+his opportunities by keeping single.  He seems such a nice gentleman,
+too.  There ought to be no difficulty."
+
+"Except that perhaps marriage has no attraction for him," suggested
+Eola.
+
+Mrs. Hulver stared at her in sheer unbelief.  The man or woman sound in
+mind and body who did not desire marriage in the abstract was
+unthinkable.  Choice was another matter; many an individual deferred
+making his choice for reasons that might be good or indifferent, but
+were sufficient all the same.  It was impossible in her opinion that
+any one could look upon the estate of matrimony as undesirable.
+
+"Begging your pardon, miss, if I may be so bold as to say so, I don't
+think either you or your brother know much about marriage.  Your minds
+have not been brought to bear upon it.  As William--that was my
+second--used to say: 'Thoughts are like guns; they are no use until
+they are trained on an object.'  You haven't had an occasion to train
+yours yet on to marriage.  Now in my case they've been trained all my
+life on matrimony, and I can speak with knowledge and experience.  If a
+man tells you that he doesn't want to get married, you may take it that
+either he can't get the woman he wants, or he hasn't made his choice.
+If a girl tells you that she doesn't want to get married--"  Mrs.
+Hulver actually panted with indignation at the mere thought of
+it--"She's--she's--well! she's a liar--at least she is in this country."
+
+Eola's light laugh was the only reply to such an assertion, and Mrs.
+Hulver took herself off to her sanctum at the back of the house with
+the nearest approach to wrath in her placid good nature she was capable
+of feeling.
+
+Then Bernard Alderbury appeared on the scene, causing Mrs. Hulver doubt
+and perturbation of mind.  He was a vigorous worker in the ranks of one
+of the large Church of England missionary societies, a strenuous parson
+who held a charmed life against the many evils prowling in his field of
+labour.  He seemed immune to the effects of bad water, coarse food,
+poisonous mosquitoes and a tropical sun.  His exemption was not
+obtained by disregard of the conditions of Indian life up-country.  On
+the contrary he observed the greatest care in safe-guarding himself by
+the use of such appliances as science provided.  He took the minimum
+risk and the maximum care and forethought.  Aided by a magnificent
+constitution and an endless store of confidence and hope that killed
+depression, he preserved the health and good spirits so essential to
+his particular work.
+
+Wenaston and Alderbury were old college friends.  When the missionary
+spirit threw its mantle over the latter, Wenaston, by no means an
+irreligious man, did his best to persuade the other from--as he put
+it--throwing himself away on the colonies and hiding his light under a
+bushel.  A man of his abilities and private means should have different
+aspirations.
+
+Alderbury received the advice in his light-hearted manner, and assured
+his friend that going to India as a missionary would prove his own
+salvation and keep him out of the morasses of modern thought and
+controversy.
+
+"I must fight some one," said Alderbury.  "I don't want civil war; I
+want an enemy outside the pale of Mother Church.  Hinduism seems to me
+the very thing, a noble and worthy foe; an ancient faith, a marvellous
+system of philosophy with a crafty degenerate priesthood.  Doesn't the
+mere thought of it stir your blood and make you tingle to be up and
+fighting?  Grafting upon the obsolete creed something infinitely
+better, a glorious oriental Christ, soul-satisfying and sufficient, Who
+will lift India's millions into a fresher and purer atmosphere of life
+and thought."
+
+Wenaston glanced at the shining eyes turned upon him in enthusiasm as
+he would have looked at the symptoms of an obscure disease.  It was a
+thing he could neither understand nor account for; but some instinct
+made him hold his peace.  If the man was right, well and good; if he
+proved wrong, he would find it out for himself.  He forbore to comment
+or to combat the new resolve.  Alderbury pursued the course he had
+mapped out for himself, and in due time went to India.
+
+Wenaston continued the student and developed into the school-master.
+When a vacancy occurred in the college of Chirapore he was asked if he
+would accept it.  Until that moment he had not thought of going to the
+East.  His sister, who had a great desire to see India, added her
+weight to inclination, and he decided to take the appointment.
+
+Once more the two friends met, and Alderbury rejoiced in the renewal of
+their intimacy; for among other facts he learned that none pressed more
+heavily upon him than the loneliness of the missionary's life, its
+isolation and the complete absence of congenial companionship.  Under
+the circumstances it was not to be wondered at that he never lost an
+opportunity in his missionary itineration of spending a few days with
+the Doctor and his sister.  It was a little out of his way, but that
+did not matter.  The holiday was the more complete since there was no
+duty within reach.  The missions he superintended were in British
+territory, beyond the borders of the native state.  He would have
+established work of some sort in Chirapore, but he was not encouraged
+to do so by his society nor by the Government of the State.  The
+society already had more than enough irons in the fire with an open
+field in British India clamouring for yet more workers.  But Alderbury
+could never visit his friend without casting envious glances at the big
+classes of boys assembled in the college hall.  He would dearly have
+liked a free hand on the platforms of the classrooms; however this was
+not permissible.  One of the conditions attached to the appointment of
+Principal was that there should be no attempt at proselytising; a
+condition to which Wenaston easily subscribed, since he had not even a
+spark of missionary enthusiasm.
+
+Eola was of her brother's way of thinking.  She too looked at
+Alderbury's work with something like detached curiosity.  His energy,
+his whole-hearted desire to see India Christianised, his indefatigable
+and unceasing sacrifice of self, appealed to the instinctive
+hero-worship that is implanted in every woman's breast; but though she
+could wonder and admire and was insensibly drawn by his personality,
+she could not understand the fascination that held him to his chosen
+profession.
+
+As for Mrs. Hulver she had her own reasons for disapproving of his
+visits, and it had nothing to do with his missionary zeal.
+Nevertheless she did not fail to provide a table worthy of her master's
+position.  The food was substantial rather than recherche, nourishing
+rather than dainty.  She had formed some fixed opinions upon the
+subject of missionaries generally; they were deeply rooted and
+unalterable.  As a class missionaries required feeding up; their
+wardrobes needed the services of the dirzee to mend and patch and darn.
+She was puzzled more than a little when she found that Alderbury paid
+no particular attention to the food, and ate sparingly, with a distinct
+inclination towards daintiness.  As for his wardrobe it was in better
+condition in some respects and needed less attention than the Doctor's.
+Not a sock required darning; not a coat needed stitching; and what was
+more, his clothes were not only new and none the worse for wear, but
+they were of the best and finest description.  The pay of a missionary
+was known to be of narrow proportions, leaving no margin for luxury.
+It did not seem fit and proper in her eyes that he should be better
+dressed than his host.  That he possessed anything besides his salary
+did not enter Mrs. Hulver's head; because if he had private means he
+never would have come to India as a missionary; he would have adopted
+the military service and been an officer in the army.
+
+Alderbury came and went at his own convenience, never announcing his
+proposed visit by more than a day or two, and never prolonging it
+beyond the two or three nights, which gave him at least one complete
+day's rest, so essential sometimes to the worker for whom Sunday is the
+busiest day of the week.  How intensely the man enjoyed that day his
+hosts had little suspicion.  Whether he discussed the latest theory in
+science or religion with Wenaston, or the latest novel with Eola, it
+was all pure happiness unclouded by a single anxiety.
+
+Mrs. Hulver was the only person who was disturbed.  The laughter of the
+happy trio awoke no sympathetic joy in her.  She was relieved when she
+heard only the low tone of the masculine voices, indicating that Miss
+Wenaston was taking no part in the conversation.  It was fortunate for
+her peace of mind that she could not see Eola's eyes dwelling on the
+long figure extended in the cane lounge placed between her own easy
+chair and her brother's; nor how she watched him when, carried away by
+excitement, he pulled himself forward and even sprang to his feet the
+better to emphasise what he had to say.  As he stood before them,
+speaking to the Doctor, but often turning his deepset eyes upon Eola,
+the girl thought of St. Paul.  By what mysterious force was he driven?
+What fire was it that kindled in his eyes as he talked and made him
+look different from any other man she had known?  The Indian world as
+she knew it was very peaceful; the people of the native State of
+Chirakul were notorious for their content and for the absence of all
+sedition and unrest.  Yet to hear him talk one might be brought to the
+belief that it was not a peaceful model native state, but an enemy's
+land, a field for a deadly battle with a worthy foe.
+
+Alderbury passed out of their little world as suddenly as he came in,
+leaving them slumberous and quiescent.  Eola missed him, but Mrs.
+Hulver indulged in a sigh of relief.  Much as she desired to see Eola
+married she drew a rigid line at missionaries.  Not that missionaries
+should be debarred from marriage.  On the contrary, a wife was more
+needful in the mission house than anywhere else.  But the missionary's
+wife belonged, in her opinion, to quite another class.  She did not
+know where the wives were bred.  They were endowed with many admirable
+virtues, and were eminently suited to be helpers to their worthy
+husbands in proselytising among the heathen; but of one thing she was
+sure; there was a wide difference between them and Miss Wenaston.
+Their rambling bungalows had a certain amount of plain solid comfort
+about them; and they made the best of the country fare that their
+limited salaries obliged them to buy, but there was nothing dainty in
+either dress or food or furniture.
+
+The large compounds in which their dwellings were placed contained
+outbuildings where the natives gathered for instruction; both bungalow
+and compound were haunted with mild-looking converts in white muslin;
+their happy faces an indication that Christianity and the pastoral
+supervision of the missionary agreed with them.
+
+On the other hand who ever heard of a missionary's wife being invited
+to the Presidency town to take a share in social festivities?  Who ever
+saw, asked Mrs. Hulver, with raised eyebrows, "a missionary's lady" at
+a race meet or at a Government House ball?  Miss Wenaston belonged to
+the class that welcomed Viceroys and figured at races and balls.  Thus
+it happened that after some of these flying visits Mrs. Hulver had
+remarks to make.
+
+"Missionaries are very good sort of people in their way.  I often
+wonder how they can keep it up."
+
+"Keep what up?" asked Eola, mystified.
+
+"Their spirits and their belief that they are doing these natives good."
+
+"Of course they are doing good, Mrs. Hulver," said Eola, as if she were
+slightly shocked.  The half-formed doubt occasionally slipped unbidden
+into her own mind but she had never put it into words.
+
+"I didn't say that they were not doing good.  I left it open.  As
+William--that was my first--used to say when the native overseers had
+too big a grasp on the profits: 'You can't wash a crow white nor expect
+anything of him but a croak.'  It's the thought of the millions and
+millions of heathen in India that is apt to stagger one.  It's like
+trying to empty a tank with a teaspoon.  However, as William--that was
+my second--used to say when I was down-hearted about the way anything
+was going: 'You lay your brick and lay it sound and leave the rest to
+others.  No man ever built a church steeple all by himself and yet old
+England is full of churches and steeples.'  Anyway, I shouldn't like to
+be a missionary's wife.  I could dress up to it; I could feed up to it;
+but I couldn't stand the converts trapesing through the compound and
+hanging about the verandahs.  I shouldn't feel as if the house belonged
+to me."
+
+"Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary to have them there," suggested Eola,
+who read between the lines with secret amusement.
+
+"Oh! yes, it would; it's their reward; their right," replied Mrs.
+Hulver with conviction.  "Any lady that's suitable to be a missionary's
+wife makes no objection; but she must be, so to speak, born to it.
+It's not a job that would suit you, miss.  As William--that was my
+third--said when he heard that the Chaplain was going to marry the
+Colonel's daughter: 'If the church mouse takes the field mouse to wife
+there'll be a difference of opinion about the mode of living.'  You
+could never put up with mission ways."
+
+"You never did any mission work, I suppose," said Eola, turning the
+conversation from a subject she was not prepared to discuss with her
+housekeeper.
+
+"No miss; but my husband William--that was my second--he tried his hand
+at it once, only once.  He saw some of the canteen servants doing pujah
+to a stone image that stood under a tree behind the canteen.  He went
+up to them in the middle of the pujah and said: 'Boys, you're all going
+to hell that way.'  One of them that served the Presbyterian minister
+spoke up and said: 'No sar!  It's the Roman Catholics that are going to
+hell, not us!'  William walked away without another word; and when I
+asked him about it, he said that missionary work wasn't his job, and
+that he would leave it to those who knew more about it than he did."
+
+"It was very good of him to make the attempt."
+
+Mrs. Hulver looked pleased at the praise and approbation of the
+departed William the second.
+
+"He was a right-minded man about everything, loyal to his God and his
+King; and he was the father of my only child."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Eola sat at the tea-table in the verandah.  Her brother, punctual to
+the stroke of four, came in without haste, crossing the compound from
+the college buildings to the private house.  Punctuality, he declared,
+was his salvation.  He could not have stood the rush of work had he not
+rigidly adhered to the hours of his meals.  Afternoon tea was the one
+he liked best.  He gave himself exactly thirty minutes for it.  It was
+thirty minutes of solid rest.
+
+"Where's Alderbury," he asked, as he seated himself in a comfortable
+cane chair.
+
+"He has gone to see Ananda."
+
+"You don't mind if I read, do you, Eola?  The new magazines came two
+days ago and I haven't had time even to open them."
+
+He tore off the cover of an illustrated monthly and handed it to her.
+A second magazine was opened for himself, and he was soon deep in an
+article professing to give the last word on the chemistry of biology.
+Whilst he read he drank his tea.  A bell rang and he jumped up,
+instantly detaching himself from the magazine and breaking off in the
+middle of a paragraph.  He hurried away in the direction of the college
+without another thought for his visitor.  At his departure Mrs. Hulver
+appeared.
+
+"When you go out, Miss, will you kindly get some carpet thread for the
+tailor.  The motor is ready."
+
+"I can't leave the house till Mr. Alderbury has come in.  He promised
+to be back to tea at four o'clock.  He must have been detained."
+
+"Oh, yes, miss, I daresay he has been detained," assented Mrs. Hulver.
+"Our master might be kept if he chose to allow it.  As William--that
+was my third--used to say: 'There are some men who will be in time for
+every meal, hungry or not; and there are others who will be in time for
+nothing but their own funerals.'"
+
+Eola ignored the implied depreciation of her guest and proceeded to
+give orders that would ensure his comfort.
+
+"We shall want another pot of tea, please.  Tell the matey to keep the
+kettle boiling, and he is not to make the tea until Mr. Alderbury comes
+in."
+
+"If you like to go out now, miss, I can see to Mr. Alderbury and give
+him his tea.  I am sure he won't mind.  His head is that full of his
+missioning that he won't notice whether it is poured out by you or by
+me.  As William--that was my first--used to say: 'When a man is
+bothered by business he has no room in his head for a woman and can't
+tell one from another.'  Mr. Alderbury is bothered with this business
+of Pantulu Iyer's son coming Christian.  It has all been done in a
+hurry, as I was telling you.  As William--that was my third--used to
+say----"
+
+What William the third said was lost in the sudden appearance of the
+guest.
+
+"So sorry I'm late, Miss Wenaston.  Yes, please, I should like some
+tea.  What with the dust and the amount of talking I've done, I'm as
+thirsty as a fish."
+
+He hurried away to his room to get rid of the powdery ochre blown up
+from the laterite roads.  Mrs. Hulver glanced after him with as much
+disapproval as she dared to show.
+
+"Next to schoolmasters, missionaries should be particular in being
+punctual.  As William--that was my second--used to say: 'Men should be
+valued like watches for the time they keep.'"
+
+"And he was quite right from a military point of view.  Will you see
+about the tea, please, Mrs. Hulver!"
+
+"It's being made, miss.  I've got my eye on the matey.  It will be
+ready as soon as Mr. Alderbury is ready for it.  Like as not he will
+read those letters that have come while he has been away and forget all
+about his tea."  Mrs. Hulver looked at Eola as much as to say, "And you
+too."  She continued: "A man with a lot of business needs a good head.
+As William--that was my second--used to say: 'Drive your business with
+a firm hand and a clear head or your business will drive you."
+
+Alderbury's appearance checked the flow of Mrs. Hulver's wisdom, and
+she departed to her room.  As he received his cup from Eola's hand he
+said:
+
+"You would like to hear how I fared, I am sure."
+
+"Yes, please; tell me all about it."
+
+The words did not ring quite true; they were wanting in sympathy, and
+seemed to the quick sensitive ear of the missionary to be spoken more
+out of polite curiosity than real interest.  He glanced at her and
+tried to swallow some of the scalding liquid with the aid of the
+teaspoon.  The innate love of fighting in a good cause rose within him,
+and he determined to try conclusions with her.  She should become
+interested, and more.  He would conquer her indifference and rouse her
+sympathy.
+
+"I had no end of a difficulty in seeing the parents.  It was the father
+I wanted to get at and he was very inaccessible."
+
+"You had an interview with Ananda, of course.  I knew him in England,
+and should like to hear how he is getting on.  I don't care a bit about
+his stupid old father.  Why can't the father let the son alone, and
+allow him to take his own line?"
+
+"The step involves so much."
+
+"If that is so, then Ananda shouldn't have taken it."
+
+Alderbury put down his cup suddenly, his mind entirely diverted from
+the business of tea-drinking by her words.
+
+"You don't mean that you really think he ought not to have become a
+Christian?" he inquired, in a grave voice that had lost the lightness
+with which he had greeted her on arrival home from his visit.
+
+The seriousness of his manner awoke a spirit of perverseness.
+
+"I am of the opinion that he might have had more consideration for his
+father's feelings," she said, with a levity that jarred.  "Why should
+existing relations that seemed so satisfactory be disturbed?"  Then, as
+Alderbury remained silent, she continued: "There is a time for all
+things.  It is too soon to ask educated India to accept Christianity;
+the way is studded with such colossal difficulties.  Don't you often
+feel that you are fighting against almost insuperable obstacles?"
+
+"In short you think it would be more expedient for the missionary to
+run away or temporise, instead of buckling on his armour and standing
+up to the enemy.  What about our responsibilities and lending a helping
+hand to our fellow-men?  The marsh is a good enough place for the horse
+to wallow in, and the man enjoying the firm ground of the meadow has no
+duty towards the poor beast!  Miss Wenaston, that is a poor creed."
+
+"Are you so sure that the Hindu is in the mud?" she asked, more in a
+spirit of provocation than honest inquiry.
+
+There was a fearful fascination in rousing him, and she took the risk
+of his anger for the pure pleasure of seeing him come up to the
+fighting line.  The eyes that met hers shone with the light of battle,
+and she inwardly trembled at the spirit she had wantonly raised.
+
+"Am I sure, you ask?" he cried derisively.  "If you knew what Hinduism
+meant you would never put such a question to a man of my profession.
+You cannot realise how encrusted it is with insidious error appealing
+mischievously to the sensual part of humanity.  You know nothing of the
+practices at the worship of Kali--of the life led by the dasis in the
+temples of Southern India----" he stopped abruptly, conscious of having
+been led in his excitement and enthusiasm a little too far.  It was
+impossible to pursue such an unsavoury subject with an English woman.
+
+"I don't know much about the worship of Kali; and I am sure that I
+never heard the word dasi before.  What is a dasi?"
+
+"Oh! never mind," he exclaimed, the fire subdued.  "Please give me
+another cup of tea, and I will tell you about Ananda.  Perhaps when you
+hear what has driven him out of the faith of his ancestors, you will be
+able to sympathise."
+
+He explained the theory of transmigration, and how Ananda had revolted
+against it on the loss of his friend; how he put himself under
+instruction in England and took the step voluntarily and without
+pressure.  From the story of his conversion he passed on to the
+description of all that had followed since Ananda arrived in India.
+
+"The man is being persecuted in all kinds of ways.  They have supplied
+him with food, but they have employed an out-caste sweeper to carry it
+to him.  The prejudice of fifty generations is not to be conquered all
+at once, and Ananda cannot bring himself to receive his food at the
+hands of a man whom he holds more unclean than we should consider an
+unwashed workman who had just emptied a sewer."
+
+"How has he been existing?"
+
+"On biscuits and milk, a poor diet for a healthy hungry man.  It has
+kept him from starvation however.  Your brother did wisely in sending
+for me after receiving Ananda's letter.  He needs advice and support,
+and he will require help of another kind when the small amount of cash
+in his pocket is finished."
+
+"I suppose you talked to him--and prayed with him?" said Eola,
+conscious of the banality of her words even as she spoke them.
+
+"Dear lady! does a man stop to fall on his knees when he sees a comrade
+drowning?  You will think me a poor sort of missionary, perhaps, when I
+confess that I forgot to pray with him.  I was too busy chucking
+life-belts to the poor chap.  Already he was assailed with doubts as to
+the wisdom of the step he had taken.  'I have been too hasty,' he said.
+'I did not consider how seriously it would affect my father's peace of
+mind and his health.'  Then he drew a picture of the old man's feeble
+appearance as he came to him two or three mornings ago in the compound.
+'He was so bowed and bent he might have been seventy instead of fifty.'
+It gave him a shock, and he seems to have entertained a suggestion made
+by his father which was nothing less than the contemplation of partial
+apostacy.  I fought against the weakness.  I preached free-will and
+choice.  I appealed to his honesty and combated the cowardice that
+prompted retrogression.  He admitted that he could never again accept
+the Hindu doctrine of transmigration.  Then I pointed out the
+responsibility that falls on a man's shoulders when his eyes are opened
+and the choice of road lies with him.  I dug away and rooted about to
+find a little courage.  He has more obstinacy than courage at present.
+I hope that the one will breed the other."
+
+While he talked he drank tea and devoured bread and butter with the
+wholesome hunger of a schoolboy.  Mrs. Hulver appeared once more.
+
+"The motor is waiting, miss.  I'm afraid I can't do without the carpet
+thread."
+
+"I will go at once," replied Eola, rising from the tea-table to put on
+her hat.  "Will you come for a run in the car, Mr. Alderbury?"
+
+"I should like it immensely," he replied with a promptness that did not
+escape the ears of the housekeeper.
+
+She was not satisfied with the result of her interruption to the
+conversation.  By despatching Miss Wenaston on a shopping errand she
+had aimed at putting an end to the _tete-a-tete_.  The guest, she
+supposed, would be driven to his room or into the garden until Dr.
+Wenaston was released from his duties and could join him.  As Eola
+disappeared in the direction of her room Alderbury turned in his
+impulsive way to Mrs. Hulver.
+
+"I haven't had a moment to ask you after yourself.  How have you been
+since we last met?"
+
+"I've been keeping pretty well, thank you, sir.  All that troubles me
+is the haricot veins in my legs.  If I stand about too much, they swell
+and become very painful."
+
+"How is your son?"
+
+Mrs. Hulver beamed suddenly, and the severe expression that she had
+worn since he appeared in the verandah vanished.  Next to talking about
+her late husbands she loved to expand on the subject of her boy.
+
+"He is very well and grown quite the man.  He tells me that he has just
+been made a corporal.  He's in his father's old regiment, and it has
+been ordered out at once.  He ought to be landing in less than a week's
+time.  He has promised to come off and see his old mother the first
+minute he can get leave.  They say that the regiment is going to
+Bangalore.  If so I shall see him often."
+
+"I hope he will prove a good son."
+
+"No fear but what he will," said Mrs. Hulver, with the unshaken
+confidence of a proud mother.  "He is happy in his work and likes
+soldiering.  As William--that was my second and the boy's own
+father--used to say when I talked of the child following any other
+trade: 'Bring up the foal to the shafts and don't try to teach him to
+drive a wheelbarrow.'"
+
+"He was perfectly right; each man should follow the line for which he
+is best suited."
+
+"But they don't do so always.  There are many men--and women, too--who,
+being square, find themselves in round holes.  Now you, sir, I take it,
+are in the right-shaped hole.  So am I; and so is Miss Wenaston.  She
+would do badly in my hole, for instance; for she would be cheated every
+hour of her life by these budmashes of servants; and she would be still
+worse off in your hole.  There's nothing of the missionary about her,
+as any one can see with half an eye.  As William--that was my
+third--used to say: 'It doesn't need a uniform to show you who's a born
+soldier.'  He was a fine figure and had a handsome----"
+
+Miss Wenaston appeared and the car drew up under the portico, cutting
+Mrs. Hulver short.  She watched the pair drive away with renewed
+misgivings.  "I don't like that look in her face.  She's feeling just
+as I used to feel when William, my second and the father of my boy,
+took me out walking in the bazaar, he looking so fine in his corporal's
+uniform."  She called to the butler.  "Ramachetty!  Come here; I want
+you.  To-morrow is pay-day.  I'm going out into the garden to count the
+roses.  Where's the gardener?"
+
+She descended the steps of the front verandah and walked slowly,
+displaying an imposing dignity, to the spot where the roses stood.  She
+counted the pots.
+
+"--six--seven--"  As she arrived at the seventh the gardener pointed
+with feverish anxiety to the eighth.  It bore a beautiful double pink
+blossom full of fragrance, proclaiming itself a true and genuine _La
+France_, "Eight; good!  Wasn't it just as I said?" she asked the butler
+triumphantly.  "With care the roses would turn back to their proper
+sort.  Why haven't the others turned, too?" she inquired, looking
+severely at the gardener.
+
+"They are turning now; all coming nicely if missus will please wait."
+
+"Mind they do come," she replied, lifting a warning finger that
+indicated a determination to exact the fulfilment of her demand.
+
+"Missus will let off the fine!" said the gardener in an insinuating
+voice.
+
+"Certainly not!  There will be four rupees fine to-morrow; four rupees
+kept back until the missie has twelve good, sweet-smelling double pink
+roses."
+
+"I am a very poor man!" whined the gardener.  "I have a large family
+and two wives, both big hungry women.  What can I do if missus stops my
+pay?"
+
+"You should have thought of that before you spoilt the roses," said
+Mrs. Hulver, showing no sign of relenting.
+
+"I am not a bad man," pleaded the gardener.  "Missus must please
+forgive.  I am same religion as missus--a Christian----"
+
+"What!" cried Mrs. Hulver, with such startling emphasis that they all
+jumped, butler, gardener and gardener's assistants.
+
+"A Christian, a poor worm of a Christian, same religion as missus and
+master and missie!"
+
+"How dare you call yourself a Christie?" cried Mrs. Hulver, in deep
+indignation.  "How dare you say that you belong to the same religion as
+me and the master and our missie?  You! a spoiler of roses! you! a lazy
+idle budmash of a gardener!  You! with two big hungry wives!"
+
+The unfortunate bigamist trembled visibly before this outpouring of
+wrath.  He felt that he had made a false step.
+
+"Ramachetty! is that man a Christian?" she asked, turning to the butler
+with an abruptness that upset his self-possession.
+
+"I never heard that he was, ma'am.  He doesn't belong to my Church, the
+Roman Church."
+
+"Is it true that he has got two wives?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am; one to cook and keep the house, and the other to mind the
+field and the buffalo and make the butter.  My Church doesn't allow two
+wives."
+
+"No; nor any other Christian Church.  He calls himself a Christian
+because he thinks I shall be sorry for him and let him off his fine.
+Tell him that only heathen people marry two wives and turn pink roses
+into red.  He is the sort of budmash who brings Christianity into
+disgrace.  I'll double his fine if he dares to say again that he
+belongs to my religion.  When he has learned to keep pink double roses
+pink and double, then we will talk about his being a Christian and
+belonging to our religion; but mind!  I don't give him much hope.  I
+never knew any missionary that allowed two wives."
+
+The butler was not indifferent to the pronoun used by Mrs. Hulver when
+she spoke of "our religion."  He dismissed the gardener to his duties
+and followed the housekeeper to the back verandah.  She retired to her
+room to make out the pay-list for the establishment.  Against the
+gardener's name she ventured to write the full sum of his wages and
+made no note of any fine.
+
+"Those four missing plants will all be back by to-morrow unless I am
+very much mistaken.  Christian or heathen, I'll keep him and the rest
+of them up to the Christian standard or my name is not Maria Hulver.
+As William my third used to say, he having been in the Artillery:
+'Drive your team straight whether they're horses or mules, and you and
+your guns will get over the ground without a spill.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+After dinner that same evening Alderbury sat in the verandah with Eola
+and her brother.  The end of the verandah was enclosed with a trellis
+over which creepers were trained.  From the roof hung a lantern that
+shed a subdued light.  If Eola desired to work or her brother to read,
+a lamp was brought and placed upon a table.  This evening the lamp was
+not required.
+
+While the servants waited at table, Alderbury could not speak of the
+subject uppermost in his mind.  No sooner had the coffee been handed
+round and the cigars lighted, than Ananda's name was brought up, and he
+described his visit to the convert.
+
+The chief thing accomplished was the moral support he had been able to
+give to the convert.  He devoutly hoped that it would sustain Ananda
+until something could be effected to improve his condition.  All that
+had happened since his return home was quite sufficient in itself to
+induce depression; and there was always a danger lest depression should
+be followed by apostacy.
+
+"I want your help, Wenaston," said Alderbury suddenly.
+
+"You shall have it," the other responded without hesitation.
+
+"You promise without knowing what it is."
+
+"You want to borrow the motor-car.  It shall be ready at sunrise
+to-morrow.  I can't drive you myself, much as I should like it.  I
+haven't time.  The chauffeur will take you where you want to go."
+
+"I shall be very grateful.  The car transforms travelling from
+purgatory to pure delight.  It was not the car, however, that was in my
+mind.  I want something else--help for Ananda.  His money won't hold
+out a week longer, and then it will be in the power of his people to
+starve him."
+
+"He will have to take food from his pariah servant--a practical
+beginning of his education in the brotherhood of man," remarked
+Wenaston.
+
+"Lately no food of any description has been sent to his room.  Unless I
+am very much mistaken the supply will stop altogether."
+
+"And his father will give him no money?"
+
+"I am sure of that."
+
+"What are Ananda's rights as a son?  Can't he claim assistance and
+support from his nearest relatives by his caste laws?"
+
+"If he were still a member of the Hindu religion he could claim
+house-room, food and clothing from his father.  These benefits are
+conceded by the unwritten law of caste custom.  Having abandoned his
+faith and become an outcaste, he loses all his rights legal and social."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Quite certain.  I called on the chief lawyer in the town on my way
+back to find out what his position really was--the reason I was late
+for tea, Miss Wenaston--and from him I learned the law regarding
+converts to Christianity as it stands in the native State."
+
+"Is it different from the law in British India?"
+
+"Entirely; the 'vert has no legal standing at all, no civil rights
+whatever.  He is an outcaste in every sense; in other words an outlaw.
+Neither by inheritance, nor by deed of gift, nor by a duly executed
+will can he inherit his father's property.  He has no power to compel
+his wife to live with him.  She may contract any other alliance she
+chooses as if he had never existed; and he has absolutely no control
+over his children.  What is more they are empowered to divide his
+patrimony among themselves exactly as if he were dead."
+
+"How unjust!" exclaimed Eola in indignation.
+
+"It is nothing less than iniquitous," responded Alderbury, with some
+warmth.  "But there it stands.  We cannot alter it and Ananda must face
+it."
+
+"He should get away from his home and his people; he is at too great a
+disadvantage where he is," remarked Dr. Wenaston.
+
+"Exactly so; and we must help him," said Alderbury.
+
+"If it means a sum of money, of course I am ready----"
+
+"I don't want your money, Wenaston," protested Alderbury, speaking
+rapidly as was his wont when excited.  "I want your help in another
+way.  Ananda is very unwilling to leave his home to which he has only
+just returned.  He is devoted to his parents and cannot at present
+bring himself to believe that they are lending themselves to this
+system of persecution.  He attributes it to his uncle.  Until he has
+proof that his father's hand is actually turned against him, he wishes
+to continue living under his roof.  He would like to obtain work of
+some sort in Chirapore that would enable him to keep house with his
+wife and child separately.  Can you find anything for him to do in your
+school?  He is quite capable of teaching English, mathematics, history,
+geography or anything of that sort to boys."
+
+Wenaston was silent and unresponsive to the appeal.
+
+"I suppose you haven't a vacancy and don't see your way to making one
+on the staff," said Alderbury in a disappointed tone.
+
+"As it happens there is a vacancy, but----"
+
+"Why this hesitation, then?  It would be a clear way out of our
+immediate difficulty if you would give him a trial.  I feel sure he can
+teach.  You know him personally and need no testimonial as to his
+character."
+
+"I wasn't hesitating over his character or his qualifications as a
+teacher.  I was wondering how much sympathy was extended in the town to
+the family, and whether feeling runs strong on the subject of his
+conversion."
+
+"It will not affect his status in the college.  Of course he
+understands that religious discussion is prohibited.  You may depend
+upon him for not proselytising; he will not even introduce the subject;
+and I am sure that he will be ready to fall in with your wishes in
+every way.  Poor fellow!  I know he will be very grateful."
+
+The pleading on the part of Alderbury roused Eola's sympathy, and she
+added her entreaty to his.
+
+"You must lend him a helping hand!"
+
+"It is against my better judgment," replied her brother, giving in
+reluctantly.
+
+"If it doesn't answer you can put an end to the arrangement at once; a
+day's notice, if you like, will be sufficient.  Take him on for a week,
+and let me hear at the end of it whether the plan is working
+successfully or not.  It will be a great relief to my mind to know that
+he has employment of some kind, not only as a means of living but also
+as occupation.  Later on I will try to persuade him to leave Chirapore
+and get work elsewhere.  With a testimonial from you he should have no
+difficulty in finding a situation as schoolmaster in one of our
+missions.  If he will only sever his connection with his family and
+place himself beyond their influence I see a grand future before him in
+the mission field.  We so rarely win over a man of good caste.  At
+present he clings with all the force of a great love to his family and
+to his wife and child.  Patience! patience!  I am a most impatient man,
+Miss Wenaston," he concluded, turning to her with a boyish laugh that
+echoed through the verandah.
+
+Having discussed the details of Ananda's immediate employment,
+Alderbury dropped into a thoughtful silence.  From a few words spoken
+casually by the Doctor he was not satisfied that Wenaston appreciated
+and valued Ananda's conversion as much as he should.  Eola's remark
+earlier in the day also hung in his mind; yet he did not want to preach
+or to talk shop, as he sometimes called it.  His difficulty of finding
+an opening was solved by a question put by Eola herself in the pause
+that ensued.
+
+"You said this afternoon that I knew nothing about Hinduism.  Don't you
+think you might enlighten me a little?  I am open to conviction, and
+quite ready to believe that the Hindus will be the better for the
+Christianity you are giving them.  Of course idolatry is only fit for
+savages, and the people of India ought to adopt something better as
+they are not savages."
+
+"You mustn't think that the Hindus are a nation of idolaters.  The
+ignorant masses worship idols and probably believe that the images
+themselves have some mysterious power of divinity in them; but the
+educated Hindu will tell you that the idol is symbolical; that they
+look beyond and through the image to the Deity.  Their conception of
+the Deity is different from ours.  He is impersonal and He is the
+creator of good and evil."
+
+"A bold theory of the infinitude of the Deity on one hand and the
+existence of evil on the other," said Wenaston, who was listening,
+although Alderbury addressed his remarks to Eola.
+
+"The Hindu believes that the world exists for a retributive purpose so
+that spirits may find embodiment, and suffer pain and joy according to
+their deserts.  Through their sufferings in cycles of rebirths they
+progress towards their final state of impersonal beatitude.  The
+retributive world with its process is eternal and lasts through all
+ages.  If the world dies, it dies to be born again.
+
+"A wonderful conception but deadening in its effects, whether one
+contemplates rebirth in this world or absorption into Brahma,"
+commented Wenaston.  "The marvel to me is that Hinduism has held its
+own so long."
+
+"Its preservation is due to its wonderful system, its width and
+breadth.  It preaches on one hand an asceticism which is acceptable to
+the most exacting fanatic.  On the other it gives a licence, in the
+name of religion and the worship of Kali, that appeals irresistibly to
+the lowest and most sensual side of man.  Hitherto its isolation and
+its marvellous power of absorbing other religious systems have been a
+tower of strength; but it cannot be saved much longer from the inrush
+of the modern spirit and stands in danger of being broken down."
+
+"By what?" asked Eola.
+
+"By the response to modern thought and by the awakening of Hindus like
+Ananda to a yearning after something better.  Under the influence of
+the new spirit of inquiry they are demanding more freedom, more
+spirituality in their doctrines.  They revolt as Ananda has revolted
+against the hopeless theory of transmigration, and they require
+something more satisfying in its place."
+
+"The Hindus are a religious people, with strong cravings that must be
+satisfied.  This is shown clearly by the absence of any desire on the
+part of my boys to shirk their religious duties," said Wenaston.
+
+"By and bye those boys won't be content with the performance of
+superstitious pujah with a pantheistic leaning.  They will require one
+God for India, not a million gods; they will demand an uplifting of
+suffering humanity, and they will rebel against a horrible creed of
+fatalism and predestination."
+
+"What have you to offer to a man like Ananda?"
+
+"Our own faith."
+
+"Can he comprehend it with its spiritual teaching?"
+
+"Ask him some day and he will tell you that in the teaching of Christ
+and in the following of Christ's example he has found a soul-satisfying
+substitute for his worn-out creed and childish rituals."
+
+"Alderbury, you are an incorrigible iconoclast.  With one blow you
+would annihilate the longest-lived religion of the world!"
+
+He was on his feet in a moment, as was his way when excited, and his
+voice rang out into the night.
+
+"You obsolete old professor! you bag of dry bones!" he cried, as he
+strode up and down the verandah.  "The ancient Greeks and Romans killed
+their conquered enemies, I know; but modern conquerors pursue a
+different plan.  They preserve; at the same time they subdue and bend
+the conquered to their will, making use of the good and pruning away
+the bad.  We shall treat Hinduism in the modern manner; remodelling its
+rites and its institutions.  Even that bugbear to all mission work,
+caste, shall be reformed.  Hinduism will be transfigured in God's good
+time by the spirituality of Christ.  It will merge into a fuller,
+richer Christianity than we of the less imaginative West have ever
+contemplated."
+
+Eola felt the blood coursing through her veins with an emotion that was
+startling.  Alderbury's enthusiasm, his magnificent faith, his absolute
+optimism and trust in the future roused her admiration, almost her
+envy.  She felt the infection of his hope and belief; but because she
+was a woman, there was something behind it that detached her mind from
+the cause for which he battled, and centred her thoughts upon the man
+himself.  While she listened, carried away by his words, she was
+conscious of his splendid personality, his strength, his confidence,
+his purity of heart.  He was a born leader of men with a strong
+personal influence that was not to be denied; and the messenger
+occupied her mind more than the message he carried.  Alderbury was
+unlike any one else of her acquaintance; and each time they met she
+became conscious of a growing attraction that she was unwilling to
+acknowledge even to herself.
+
+When the hour for retirement came, Wenaston said good-night to his
+guest and departed to his sitting-room to read.  Eola stood for a few
+minutes after she had shaken hands.  Alderbury waited, his quickened
+perception where human beings were concerned telling him that she had
+something to say which was for his ear only.
+
+"I am sorry I spoke as I did about Ananda and his religion.  I am
+afraid I gave you the impression that I thought one religion as good as
+another."
+
+"It certainly crossed my mind that such was your attitude," he replied
+gravely.
+
+"I ought not to have said that it was a pity that he had changed.  I am
+sorry."
+
+She was sweet in her penitence, and Alderbury was constrained to take a
+firm grip of himself.
+
+"People have a habit of making loose statements of that kind, and of
+expressing a vague regret that we interfere with the Hindu creed.  They
+don't realise what they are practically admitting.".
+
+"It is so!  I have often heard English men and women say that they
+would rather have a good heathen servant for instance, than an
+indifferent Christian."
+
+"The standard of one is entirely different from the standard of the
+other.  A 'good heathen's' religion makes the practice of certain sins
+a religious act.  Among the 'indifferent Christians' there are a great
+many who have no religion at all; but they claim to be of the faith of
+those they serve, thinking that they will be more favoured."
+
+"I mustn't get into the habit of making loose statements."
+
+"Nor of believing everything a native tells you.  I am sure Mrs. Hulver
+is careful how she receives what they say of themselves.  I should like
+to hear her on the subject, and also on their habits, good and bad.
+She would be sure to quote one of the Williams."
+
+"I know what they would have said!" cried Eola, the cloud dispersed,
+and on good terms with herself again.  "William the first would have
+held that habits had their advantages and might be acquired with
+discretion.  William the second's views would have been more rigid.
+Habits were good and bad; the good were to be adopted at all costs and
+the bad avoided.  William the third would have been of the opinion that
+habits, good and bad, were unavoidable in poor weak human natures and
+must be accepted with the man."
+
+Alderbury's laugh rang out; and Mrs. Hulver, dropping off to sleep on
+her cot under the mosquito curtains, heard it.  She stirred in sleepy
+protest.  Missionaries had no right to joke and laugh like that with
+"society ladies."  How could they expect to convert the heathen if they
+indulged in such levity?  As William used to say----; but here she fell
+asleep and happily forgot Miss Wenaston and the missionary, together
+with the words of wisdom that fell from the lips of her trinity of
+Williams.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+At sunrise Alderbury started off in the motor to drive back to that
+particular mission centre of which he was the superintendent.  It was
+situated in British India, about forty miles from the town of Chirapore.
+
+On his way he stopped at the house of Pantulu.  He walked quickly round
+to the side where the room assigned to Ananda was situated.  He found
+him sitting on his deck chair in the open doorway.  He was trying to
+concentrate his attention on a book, but his eyes often wandered to the
+hills.  He heard the tread of footsteps and looked up expectantly.  As
+soon as he caught sight of Alderbury he rose, pleasure plainly written
+on his face.
+
+"I did not think that you would have time to call and see me again," he
+said, as he shook hands warmly.
+
+"Dr. Wenaston's offer of the car has made it possible.  I come with
+good news.  He has consented to my suggestion that you should take up a
+post as junior master in the school.  The salary you will draw will
+enable you to support yourself and make you independent of your father."
+
+Ananda's eyes grew bright at the prospect and he questioned his visitor
+eagerly as to his duties.  They were explained, together with the
+subjects that were forbidden.
+
+"I shall like it beyond all things," said Ananda.  "For the present I
+will go on living here.  I am getting used to the room.  It is not as
+bad as it looks."
+
+"Have your people sent you any food this morning; any coffee and rice
+cakes?"
+
+"No; they have never yet sent me anything in the early morning.  The
+pariah has returned, I am glad to say, with permission to sweep and
+perform his usual duties."
+
+Alderbury began to dive into the deep pockets of his travelling
+overcoat.  He produced bread, butter, a bottle of strong coffee, cake,
+sugar, salt and various other eatables.
+
+"You don't mind accepting these things from Miss Wenaston.  Her
+housekeeper gave them to me with her own hands.  When you go to the
+college to-morrow morning, call at the house and say you are grateful."
+
+"Of course I will.  I'll see the housekeeper as well as Miss Wenaston."
+
+"And let me give you another piece of advice, Ananda.  You must fill up
+the whole day with regular employment, whether you are at the college
+or at home.  You must not allow yourself to drift into the habit of
+idleness.  It is bad for any man, European or Indian.  You must read
+and make notes of what you read.  You must write to me and tell me what
+you are teaching your class.  I will send you some books addressed to
+the care of Miss Wenaston as soon as I get back; and if you want
+lighter literature you can borrow of her."
+
+They talked of various matters for some time, and then Alderbury looked
+at his watch.
+
+"Half-past eight! how the time flies!  Is that your man outside?  Hi!
+come here!  I want you!" he called in the man's language.
+
+The sweeper ran forward, and Alderbury gave him directions.
+
+"Go to the car and bring me a small basket you will find on the seat."
+
+The pariah returned and was directed to lift the lid, which he did.  As
+he held it open Alderbury took out a packet of sandwiches.
+
+"I may as well save time by eating my breakfast whilst I talk."
+
+The food disappeared without any hindrance to the conversation, and the
+fact that it had been received from the pariah did not affect the
+missionary's appetite.
+
+"Put down the basket and give me that bottle and cup," said Alderbury
+to the man.  "Hold the cup while I pour."
+
+The thermos flask was full of steaming coffee, and Alderbury took the
+brimming cup from the hand of the despised pariah, giving him back the
+flask to replace in the tiffin basket.
+
+"This is Mrs. Hulver's own make; I never tasted better coffee.  You
+have got the same brew in that bottle, but without milk.  It should
+last you three or four days.  Boil your milk and add it to the cold
+coffee.  Don't heat the coffee or you will spoil the flavour.  I was to
+be sure and tell you this from Mrs. Hulver.  Good-bye and good luck go
+with your new venture.  Come along my man; bring that basket and put it
+in the motor."
+
+The lesson was not without its effect although nothing was actually
+said.  Somehow when the Englishman accepted food from the hand of the
+pariah the action had a different complexion, and it set Ananda
+thinking.  Alderbury hoped it would bear good fruit, and help to make
+matters easier if the time should come when no food was obtainable
+except through the pariah.  He was anxious to be off, and he bade
+Ananda good-bye, parting with him at the entrance of the little yard
+where the gourd spread its vivid green foliage.
+
+As he approached the gateway of the compound leading into the road a
+messenger met him with a request that he would come into the verandah
+in front of the house.  Pantulu Iyer desired a word with him.  Quite
+ready for an interview whatever might be its nature, hostile or
+friendly, he mounted the stone steps.
+
+A few minutes elapsed before Pantulu, accompanied by his wife,
+appeared.  They approached silently, their hands placed together palm
+to palm, and stood before him with bowed heads.
+
+"Sir!" began Pantulu, then he paused, unable to command his voice.
+
+"Speak, Pantulu Iyer; what do you wish to say?  I am ready to listen."
+
+Alderbury's gentle manner broke down the nervous constraint and opened
+the flood-gates of speech.  In a voice that was so charged with emotion
+as to be near breaking point, the old man prayed for the missionary's
+assistance in the restoration of his son, his only child.  There were
+numbers of others, he pleaded, who were ready and willing to join the
+Christian religion.  Their apostacy would not be felt by their
+families.  With him it was different.  In taking away his son the
+missionary deprived him and his father and grandfather of happiness in
+a future life.  Who was to perform the shraddah ceremonies when he,
+Pantulu, was dead, if his son Ananda refused to perform them?  The
+thought of his fate and the fate of his ancestors was intolerable,
+unbearable, appalling!
+
+As he poured forth his entreaty Gunga's tears flowed down her haggard
+cheeks and fell upon the folds of her tawny silk saree.  Her grey hair
+was dishevelled, and its silvery strands were sprinkled with the dust
+she had thrown upon her head according to custom in overwhelming grief
+or misfortune.
+
+Keenly sympathetic to human trouble at all times, Alderbury could not
+listen unmoved.  The appearance of both father and mother told its own
+tale, and he fully realised the havoc that had been wrought in one of
+the happiest homes of India.  It was ever the same, even from the very
+beginning of the story of Christianity, he thought with a sigh.  All
+pioneer work must run on similar lines; and although he knew that it
+was inevitable, his heart ached at the sight of their distress.
+
+"If you feel thus about the future why not take the same path your son
+has taken?  He is right.  Go with him and you will find such joy and
+peace in your old age as you have never experienced before."
+
+"Can the bullock learn a new method of drawing the cart after spending
+all its life under the yoke?  We cannot change at our age.  We must
+follow in the footsteps of our fathers.  Oh! sir! if you would only say
+the word, and bid my son remember his poor old father, all might yet be
+made right.  Let him conform outwardly, whatever he may believe
+inwardly, for our sake."
+
+Yielding to a sudden impulse, Pantulu and his wife fell at Alderbury's
+feet, touching their foreheads to the ground.  By this time the tears
+were falling from the old man's eyes.
+
+"Our son! our dearly loved son!  Give us back our child, our little
+one! the only child that was ever sent by the gods to bless us!"
+
+Not a word of reproach was mingled with the prayer which made it all
+the harder for the missionary to bear.
+
+"He cannot return to you.  You must go to him," repeated Alderbury.
+
+"Sir! if you will bring him back to us--and he will come!  I know he
+will! if you so much as hold up your finger--I will give you a lac of
+rupees to build a temple for your God.  Your God is merciful and kind.
+He will take the church in exchange for the only son of two
+heart-broken parents.  He will be satisfied if you build it large and
+put much gold and jewels in the sacred place.  You shall have money and
+jewels and gold and silk and rich carpets and hangings--all these and
+more than you ask you shall have, if you will only give him back to us."
+
+"Give him back to me, his mother!  Let me have my little one again! my
+little one whose tiny hands upon my neck awoke the mother-love within
+me," prayed the proud Gunga at his feet in abject humility.
+
+It was getting beyond Alderbury's endurance.  His human pity brought
+the tears to his eyes.  He bent over the prostrate figures.
+
+"I cannot grant your request even if I would.  There can be no return
+for your son.  You must go to him; he cannot come back to you.  May my
+God, the God of love and mercy, help you!"
+
+He turned and left the verandah.  In another ten seconds the car was
+speeding down the road hidden in a column of golden dust in the bright
+morning sunshine.
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+The following morning, punctual to the minute, Ananda, accompanied by
+the Principal, entered the class room where he was to instruct
+twenty-seven boys whose ages ranged between twelve and fourteen.  He
+had already received his instructions, and was relieved to find that
+nothing was required of him in the teaching line otherwise than what he
+was easily able to perform.
+
+The class had assembled and most of the boys were studying the lesson
+that was to be repeated.  There was a buzz of voices as each individual
+conned aloud the portion he had prepared.  A few talked together in low
+tones with a solemnity that would be strange in English schoolboys.
+Whether studying or chatting they all behaved quietly, with a total
+absence of trickery or exuberance of spirits.  This self-contained
+orderliness, peculiar to native children in India, renders it possible
+for a teacher to manage a class of fifty pupils.  Not only are the boys
+attentive, but many of them show an eagerness to learn which is
+surprising to the English master.
+
+There was a sudden breathless hush as Wenaston entered; and
+twenty-seven pairs of eyes were fixed in rounded wonder upon the new
+teacher.  He was recognised by most of the boys.  Many of them belonged
+to families known to his own people.
+
+He took his seat at the desk and began the lesson.  Wenaston, after
+listening a few minutes, nodded his head in approval and left the room.
+His own class of young men preparing for one of the higher examinations
+was waiting for him.
+
+At twelve o'clock the classes broke up and the boys went home to the
+midday meal.  It was customary to reassemble at half-past one for games
+in the playing-field and begin work again an hour later.
+
+After lunch Wenaston put on his sun-topee and strolled into the
+cricket-field.  A few boys stood about in couples idly talking, but no
+game was in progress.  He called to one of the big boys and asked why
+there was no practice at the nets.  The reply was to the effect that
+most of the boys were leaving at once for home where their presence was
+required by their families, without waiting for afternoon school.
+
+Wenaston was accustomed to the absence of his pupils on the occasion of
+domestic ceremonial; but it was usual to let him know beforehand.  The
+reason was sometimes stated but not always.  He passed on to his
+private sitting-room in the college where he had papers to look over.
+At three he went to the hall.  His class was small; so also were the
+classes of the other masters.  At half-past five the bell rang and the
+boys dispersed.  He met Ananda outside the building.
+
+"Come in and see Miss Wenaston," he said.  "How did you get on this
+afternoon?"
+
+"Very well, indeed, sir, as far as my subject was concerned.  It is a
+great pleasure to go over the old ground again and renew my
+acquaintance with it.  I had very few boys this afternoon; only ten out
+of the twenty-seven turned up."
+
+"There must be some public festival going on; for the other classes
+were also small.  Do you know what it is?"
+
+"Not a regular feast day, I am sure.  If there is anything of the kind
+it will be of a private nature: a wedding or a funeral.  I am in
+Coventry as you know, sir; and so I hear no news whatever."
+
+"I hope you will not have to remain long in that uncomfortable
+position.  You must establish yourself in a house of your own."
+
+"I intend to do so as soon as I can consult with my wife.  Up to the
+present I have not been allowed to see either her or the child."
+
+"You will not leave without them?"
+
+"No; they must come with me.  As long as I remain in the house I have a
+better chance of obtaining an interview."
+
+They found Eola in the garden looking at the roses.  Her favourites
+were all back in their places, a dozen beautiful _La France_ plants.
+Whether they were the originals she could not say.  The pruning was
+always a severe process that deprived the bushes of individual features
+and made them all of one pattern.  Mrs. Hulver was not far off; and the
+gardener, beaming with satisfaction at the thought that his full wages
+were assured, was half concealed behind a bank of ferns where he was
+pretending to be very busy picking off dead leaves.  Eola greeted
+Ananda with a friendly welcome that set him at ease; talked of her
+roses and other matters of no importance.
+
+"I want to thank you, Miss Wenaston, for all that you sent yesterday by
+Mr. Alderbury," he said.
+
+"You must thank my housekeeper.  It was her thought.  Mrs. Hulver!  Mr.
+Ananda is very grateful to you for thinking of him in his need."
+
+Mrs. Hulver, thus encouraged, approached and cast her shrewd grey eyes
+over the visitor.  His neat European dress and manner met with her
+approval.
+
+"I am glad the food was acceptable.  I saw to the cooking of it myself.
+Mr. Alderbury told me that you had been obliged to live on
+biscuits--poor stuff for young stomachs.  What a man wants is a hot
+meal once a day.  There should be meat as well as bread or rice.  I
+wasn't able to send you any meat, Mr. Ananda."
+
+"I don't eat meat, so it was all right."
+
+"Do you like fish?"
+
+"Yes; and vegetables curried; but I have not tasted a curry since I
+landed."
+
+"Then you've gone to bed hungry more often than not in spite of your
+biscuits.  As William--that was my second husband--used to say: 'Sharp
+stomachs make short tempers.'  The best temper will sour under
+starvation."
+
+A little later Ananda said good-bye and walked back to his father's
+house.  On the way he met Bopaul.  Mayita was his companion.
+Regardless of ill omens the brother had renewed his friendship with his
+sister; he took her for daily walks, avoiding the places where men and
+women congregated.
+
+"Not afraid of being contaminated by the company of an outcaste?" said
+Ananda with some bitterness, as Bopaul turned to stroll part of the way
+with his friend.
+
+"No; nor of being overshadowed by the widow," replied Bopaul with a
+light laugh.  "How are things going with you?"
+
+Ananda related the experience of the last week and his employment at
+the college, together with his plans for the future.
+
+"You will certainly have to clear out of your father's house as soon as
+you can if you want any comfort."
+
+"I shall not go without my wife and child," said Ananda, with the old
+obstinacy.
+
+"How is the child?" inquired Bopaul.
+
+"The child!  Is it ill that you ask?" said Ananda, startled.
+
+"It had a fall the day you returned.  No effect was seen at first but a
+few days ago it complained of pain; and my mother, who went to see it,
+thought that it was ill, though not very bad.  Haven't they told you?"
+
+"I hear nothing and I see nobody but the sweeper.  Bring me news if
+there is anything important to tell," said Ananda, trying in vain to
+hide the sudden anxiety that sprang up as he heard that the child was
+not well.
+
+"I will," answered Bopaul, with a note of sympathy in his voice.
+
+He stopped to turn back towards his own house, and Ananda passed on
+with downcast troubled eyes that failed to see how his friend stood
+watching him.
+
+"Poor fellow!" thought Bopaul.  "They are making it very hard for him;
+but it is only what he might have expected.  There is more grit and
+endurance in him than I expected.  I thought he would have given in by
+this time.  Pantulu Iyer's brother has met his match, and he won't step
+into Ananda's shoes quite as easily as he thought."
+
+The following morning Ananda arrived at the college, and was in his
+place punctually to the strike of the clock.  The bell rang but without
+response.  A strange silence prevailed in the college close, in the
+hall and in the class rooms.  Not a boy was visible.  The masters were
+in their places and the Principal in cap and gown on the platform ready
+to begin his lecture.  He waited a short time and then went to the
+Vice-principal's room, a native who had taken a good degree at
+Cambridge.
+
+"Where are all the boys?" asked Wenaston, in some bewilderment.  "Is it
+a public festival?"
+
+The Vice-principal paused before replying.
+
+"I am afraid, sir, that they are purposely absenting themselves," he
+said, reluctantly.  He had a great regard for his chief, and it went
+against the grain to say anything that might give him pain.
+
+"Can you tell me the reason?"
+
+"Because you have appointed the son of Pantulu Iyer as a master in the
+school."
+
+"Does the feeling run so strongly against him that they can carry it to
+this pitch?" replied Wenaston in some indignation.  "It is no concern
+of theirs what religion he professes.  His opinions are a personal
+matter as long as he keeps them to himself.  Did he mention the subject
+to his class yesterday?"
+
+"No, sir," the Vice-principal answered promptly.
+
+"Then it is outrageous that he should be ostracised in this manner."
+
+Wenaston had been haunted by the dread of something of the kind ever
+since he had acceded to Alderbury's request; but he had not anticipated
+that it would come so soon, nor in such a practical form as a strike.
+The utmost he had expected was an inquiry on the part of the Government
+authorities, followed by a recommendation that the appointment should
+be cancelled.
+
+"The sympathy in the town is all on the side of Ananda's parents.  You
+hardly realise, sir, what an appalling disaster it is for a high caste
+Hindu to lose a son in this way," remarked Wenaston's colleague.
+
+"You talk of him as if he were dead!"
+
+"It would have been less of a disaster if he had died in the Hindu
+faith before he became a Christian."
+
+There was a pause.  The Principal was troubled and perplexed.  If the
+animosity towards Ananda was roused to such an extent as to produce
+these results something must be done and done promptly.
+
+"If the feeling runs so high, I am afraid I shall be compelled to
+dispense with his services.  I shall be sorry to part with him for his
+own sake; I could see that he would have suited admirably as a master;
+his teaching is clear and lucid.  But I can't have the school emptied
+in this way.  You must help me to get out notices at once which will
+make it plain to the parents of the boys that the matter will be set
+right and another man will take the class."
+
+Dr. Wenaston had the unpleasant task before him of breaking the news to
+Ananda and of warning him that he must not be seen on the school
+premises again.  There was no objection to an occasional visit to the
+house.  Miss Wenaston would be pleased to see him at any time; but he
+must be careful to keep away from the class rooms and playing-fields.
+
+Ananda received the news in silence.  The sight of the empty rooms was
+enlightening and needed no comment.  He was not surprised when Dr.
+Wenaston intimated in polite and gentle speech that he could no longer
+permit him to appear in the college.
+
+"I had better leave at once, sir; as soon as the boys know that I am
+not here they will return," was Ananda's reply.
+
+"You understand the situation?"
+
+"Quite; the absence of the boys is convincing."
+
+His dejection touched the Englishman.  "I am sorry, very sorry for you.
+We must see what can be done in some other way.  I will write to Mr.
+Alderbury at once."
+
+Ananda turned his back on the silent rooms and walked towards the road.
+The residence of the Principal stood on his left fronting the other
+way.  Mrs. Hulver was in the back verandah, her eye scanning the
+landscape.  She called sharply to the butler.
+
+"Ramachetty, go and tell that native gentleman over there that I want
+to speak to him."
+
+Ananda, surprised at the summons, responded to her call.
+
+"Come in, Mr. Ananda; I want a few words with you," was her greeting.
+
+Mrs. Hulver bustled into her sitting-room, followed by her visitor.
+
+"Sit down," she said, in her expansive maternal manner.  "I have
+something to tell you.  Do you know that those imps of boys who ought
+to be in class are waiting outside about a hundred yards up the road?"
+
+"Are they, Mrs. Hulver?  What do they want?"
+
+Although he asked the question he was able to give a shrewd guess as to
+the reason of their presence.
+
+"They want you; and they mean mischief.  You must just sit here for a
+while, and when the coast is clear you can get away safely.  I was in
+the town this morning.  I tell you it is in a ferment over your coming
+to the college, and it isn't safe for you to be seen about in broad
+daylight.  Those young limbs of mischief mean to do you some hurt."
+
+This was the work of his uncle, he was convinced; but he did not
+express his thoughts aloud.  He thanked Mrs. Hulver for her kindly
+offices and sat down to wait.  She gave him a book to read, and did her
+best to make him feel at ease.
+
+"You stay and dine with me.  A good hot square meal will do you no
+harm.  It will be cooked by myself in the verandah and it will be ready
+soon after twelve--hot soup, fried fish, vegetable curry and stewed
+guavas; and we will eat it here in this room.  As William--that was my
+first husband--used to say: 'Better be in at the end of a feast than
+the beginning of a fight'--and a losing fight it will be for you, Mr.
+Ananda, if you get among those boys in their present temper."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A surprise was in store for Mrs. Hulver the next morning in the shape
+of a telegram from her son.  He had arrived at Bangalore, and he
+proposed taking three days' leave to pay his mother a visit at once.
+Her head was fairly turned with delight, and she hurried off to tell
+the good news to her young mistress.  She thrust the telegram into
+Eola's hand.
+
+"Read it, miss.  You will have to go through it two or three times
+before you can take it all in; at least, I had to do so; but then I'm
+flurried; and as William--that was my second--used to say: 'Flurry
+never fires straight!'"
+
+"Can we manage to put him up?" asked Eola, wondering whether she ought
+to offer her pretty spare room to the young corporal.
+
+"Quite easily, miss.  A camp bed in my sitting-room will do nicely."
+
+"Are you sure that you would not like the spare room for him----"
+
+Mrs. Hulver interrupted her with a gesture of horror.
+
+"A common soldier in the spare room, miss! and the room just done up,
+too!  No, indeed!  A missionary may use it if he is a friend of the
+house; but Dr. Wenaston should not stoop any lower.  With the new
+curtains and carpet the room is fit for the Governor himself.  As
+William--that was my third--used to say: 'The finest trappings in the
+world don't alter the breed of a horse.'  My son may look very smart in
+his corporal's uniform, but for all that he's only the son of a man in
+the ranks."
+
+Eola's delicate sense of hospitality was not satisfied.  With the spare
+room empty she felt that the door should not be shut against an
+Englishman, whose character was perfectly respectable, but whose rank
+differed from her own.
+
+"If it is inconvenient to you to have him in the sitting-room, I should
+be very pleased to let him use the spare room," she said.
+
+Mrs. Hulver drew herself up with pride.  "I know my place, miss," she
+replied, severely, as much as to say: "and you ought to know yours."
+She continued: "Even if I could bring myself to let him use the spare
+room, I should know all the time that it would not be good for him.  As
+William--that was my first--used to say: 'Pride is a plant that needs
+neither water nor manure; it will grow fast enough by itself.'  My son
+William will make himself comfortable you may be sure; and his pride
+will not be fostered by the camp bed, for it's a little ricketty, to
+say nothing of being a bit hard.  My sitting-room will be like a palace
+to the boy after the barracks.  I'm not sure that I ought to let him
+sleep there."
+
+"Where else could you put him?" asked Eola in wonder, for she knew the
+limitations of the house.
+
+"In a corner of the back verandah," replied Mrs. Hulver promptly.  "It
+would be very convenient to have him there."
+
+"The night wind might give him fever."
+
+"That's true, miss.  As William--that was my third--used to say, when I
+rated him for leaning a little too far towards his failing:
+'Conveniences have their inconveniences and comforts their crosses.'
+Well, you mustn't keep me here gossiping or I shan't be ready for young
+William when he arrives.  He's due at three o'clock this very
+afternoon."
+
+She bustled away, too full of William the second, junior, to note the
+smile with which Eola received the intimation that it was she who was
+detaining Mrs. Hulver.
+
+At twelve o'clock Wenaston came in.  He was earlier than usual.  As a
+rule he did not appear till the lunch bell rang at one.  Eola seated in
+the verandah looked up as she heard his step.
+
+"Well?  What's the news?  How are things going?" she asked.
+
+"Badly! very badly!  Only a quarter of the boys returned this morning.
+It will take a week or ten days to regain their confidence, and the
+loss of time will have an effect on my results.  I would not have
+believed that so much feeling could have existed over the matter had I
+not seen its consequences."
+
+"Did you hear how he got home yesterday?"
+
+"Not without accident.  You know, perhaps, that he came here after
+leaving college at Mrs. Hulver's invitation."
+
+"She told me that he had lunched with her," Eola replied.  "I was glad
+to think that the poor fellow had had a good midday dinner.  She said
+that it was the first hot meal he had eaten since he left the boat at
+Bombay."
+
+"It wasn't to give him food that she asked him in.  She heard through
+the servants that a party of the boys were lying in wait to
+rough-handle him on his way home; and this was her way of preventing
+mischief."
+
+"I wonder they dared to think of such a thing!" said Eola, with some
+indignation.
+
+"They not only thought of it but they nearly succeeded in carrying out
+their design.  Ananda left Mrs. Hulver's room in the afternoon, she
+having made sure that the boys were tired of waiting and had dispersed.
+At her advice he did not take the direct road home, but went round by a
+path not often used.  Near his house he was obliged to walk along the
+road and as bad luck would have it, he met two of my boys--men they
+might more properly be called.  They rushed at him with their sticks.
+He sprinted for home and escaped with a cut or two over the head."
+
+"Of course he will prosecute the boys for assault," said Eola.
+
+"He would do so if this were British territory; but being a native
+state, he, as a Christian, has no civil rights, no standing in a court
+of law.  He can gain no redress; he hasn't even the power to bind them
+over to keep the peace."
+
+"Have you written to Mr. Alderbury?"
+
+"I wrote yesterday morning, and I have just had his reply by wire.  He
+wants me to send Ananda to him at once.  He has an opening for him and
+can find him employment before long.  Meanwhile he will be glad to have
+him as his guest at the mission bungalow."
+
+"You must see Ananda and tell him so; it will be a little consolation
+for the poor fellow, perhaps."
+
+"There's just my difficulty," replied Wenaston in perplexity.  "It
+isn't safe for him to show his face outside his father's premises."
+
+"They are not ill-treating him inside the house, I hope," said Eola,
+with sudden anxiety.
+
+"Nothing beyond humiliating him as much as possible by giving him the
+services of a sweeper, and cutting off the supplies of food.  If it
+goes no further I don't think any bodily harm can happen to him as long
+as he stays at home."
+
+"Mr. Alderbury must come and advise him."
+
+"He says in his wire that he can't pay us another visit just yet.  We
+must do our best without him.  I ought to go to Ananda's house, I
+suppose, since he can't come to me."
+
+"It won't take you long; not more than five minutes to get to the house
+if you go in the car."
+
+"It isn't the time I am thinking of but the welfare of the college and
+my covenant with the Maharajah.  I undertook not to meddle in any
+religious matters."
+
+Eola laid her hand on her brother's arm.  "Leave it to me," she said,
+"I will undertake to let Ananda know.  Keep clear of the affair and get
+your pupils back as quickly as you can."
+
+"You ought not to go to Pantulu's house," he rejoined quickly, as his
+eyes rested on her in doubt.  "I don't know what sort of a reception
+you will get.  You must not run any risk of rousing unpleasantness that
+I could not overlook."
+
+"I promise you I will not run any risk nor get myself into trouble.  I
+can manage, I think, to have your message delivered without going
+myself to Ananda's house.  Will you tell me exactly what it is?"
+
+"I have no other instructions than what are contained in the telegram.
+I shall have a letter to-morrow giving me more particulars.  Meanwhile
+Ananda should be privately warned that he must be ready to leave not
+later than to-morrow evening by the night mail."
+
+"Shall we lend him the car?"
+
+"There again the difficulty occurs of assistance being rendered by me
+to an out-caste member of an important caste family, a member who is
+under the ban of the family's displeasure.  No; he had better go by
+rail.  The native chauffeur would sell the secret for a couple of
+rupees.  I can't drive him myself; I haven't the time, and it would be
+risky."
+
+"Mr. Alderbury will have to come and take Ananda away himself," said
+Eola, unconsciously ready to believe that a visit was necessary.
+
+"If so he must not do it from this house," said Wenaston decisively.
+"But before anything can be settled as to ways and means, we must
+communicate with Ananda and find out what his wishes are."
+
+"The simplest way is to write a letter."
+
+"But it would be difficult to deliver it.  It would never reach his
+hand."
+
+Wenaston lunched and returned to the college.  The boys were assembled
+in the playing-field, and his spirits revived somewhat when he noted
+that at the summons of the bell they entered the class rooms in greater
+numbers than in the morning.  He had an interview with the
+Vice-principal before afternoon school began.  At four o'clock he came
+into the verandah for tea.
+
+"Have you done anything about communicating with Ananda?" he asked of
+Eola.
+
+"Nothing beyond writing him a letter."
+
+"Impossible to get it conveyed to him!" he exclaimed.  "You mustn't go
+any further with the business.  I have been talking to Rama Krishna, my
+Vice, and he implores me to remain strictly neutral for the sake of the
+school if for nothing else.  He says that if I intend to help Ananda I
+may be able to do so later; but that at present I must be rigidly
+neutral."
+
+"It seems rather hard not to lend a helping hand," said Eola, whose
+pity was roused.  "I can't quite reconcile my conscience to a course of
+total inaction.  Whatever the Vice may say--and he is a heathen--we
+ought not to withhold any assistance that may be in our power to give
+him."
+
+"Rama Krishna assures me again and again that I can best help Ananda by
+remaining neutral.  I shall only provoke the town as well as the family
+to open hostilities."
+
+"Does he show any animosity towards Ananda?"
+
+"None whatever.  His life at the English University taught him
+tolerance.  He recommends me to get the boys back at all costs as soon
+as possible.  A mission agent like Alderbury is the right person to
+give the help required, and it is unfortunate that he cannot come just
+now.  He argues that the missionary is paid to make converts and to
+help them; and the natives recognise the fact.  Because he is paid to
+proselytise, they are ready to tolerate more from him than from an
+unpaid agent.  It is equally well known that I am paid to teach and not
+to proselytise.  This is a country that expects nothing more from a man
+than what he is paid for.  Anything done in excess of the purchased
+duty must have, in public opinion, some hidden motive."
+
+"Can't people understand that your motive in helping Ananda is a
+religious one?"
+
+"No; and it seems impossible to convince them otherwise.  Even the
+Vice, though he knows me so well, had a suspicion that there was a
+mercenary motive underlying my desire to assist Ananda.  He suspected
+that I was working for a reward from Alderbury or for a bribe from the
+family.  I think he inclined to the latter theory; but he was careful
+to hide his suspicions as they were not complimentary to me."
+
+"I hope you undeceived him."
+
+"I pretended not to see which way his thoughts leaned.  What have you
+done with your letter?"
+
+"I gave it to Mrs. Hulver.  I explained the case to her, thinking she
+might contrive to have it conveyed somehow to Ananda without discovery."
+
+Wenaston rose at once.  "It won't do," he said.  "There must be no
+communication between this house and Ananda's.  I'll see Mrs. Hulver
+myself and tell her my wishes.  She must understand definitely what
+they are."
+
+He passed through the house towards the back verandah into which Mrs.
+Hulver's room opened.
+
+"Poor Ananda!" thought Eola.  "Will he have the courage to hold out?  I
+am afraid my courage would melt away before such a fire of persecution
+as he seems to be meeting."
+
+Wenaston presented himself at the door of Mrs. Hulver's sitting room.
+She met him with a broad smile of pleasure.  Just behind her stood a
+man in uniform, the mother's smile reflected on his face.
+
+"This is William, my son, sir.  He has just arrived from Bangalore.
+He's the very image of his father.  Stand forward and let Dr. Wenaston
+look at you."
+
+She pushed the shy awkward young soldier forward.  He stood at
+attention as if confronting his colonel and lifted his hand in a
+military salute.
+
+"Very glad to see you, Smith.  So he is like his father is he?" he said.
+
+"They are as like as two peas, sir, in every respect but one.  My son
+takes after his grandmother on my side in his complexion.  He is darker
+than his father, who was very fair.  But as William--that was my
+first--used to say if any one remarked on his being dark: 'Human blood
+is all of one colour no matter what sort of a skin may cover it.'"
+
+"I hope you had a good voyage out," said the Principal.  "Sit down,
+Smith, I have come to speak to your mother.  Mrs. Hulver, Miss Wenaston
+entrusted you with a letter to deliver to Mr. Ananda.  Will you kindly
+give it back to me."
+
+Mrs. Hulver produced the letter and handed it to Wenaston, glancing at
+him with a natural curiosity which brought forth an explanation.
+
+"You learned from Miss Wenaston what this letter contained?"
+
+"Yes, sir; it was to show Mr. Ananda a way out of his troubles.  He has
+got himself into rather a tight corner.  As William--that was my
+second--used to say: 'Think twice before you tie a knot that you can't
+undo.'"
+
+"I want you to understand my position fully, Mrs. Hulver.  I am not
+able, I am sorry to say, to give Mr. Ananda any protection from the
+towns-people nor from his family.  Assistance on my part would be
+looked upon as a breaking of my covenant with the Maharajah when he
+sanctioned my appointment to the college.  I hope that you will be
+careful not to do anything which will compromise me in this matter."
+
+"You may rely on me, sir, for not burning my own fingers nor setting
+your house on fire by meddling with other people's candles.  I am sorry
+for the poor young man, but after all he has brought it on himself.  As
+William--that was my third--used to say (he was the one who changed his
+religion to marry me): 'If you sow brambles you must expect to tread on
+thorns.'  Mr. Ananda told me all about himself as he sat here waiting
+till those young imps of budmashes had gone home.  I heard in the
+bazaar this morning that he had been set upon near his own house; but
+he managed to get in without being much hurt."
+
+"Yes; that was so.  You pick up all the news in the market."
+
+"Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Hulver complacently.  She prided herself on
+possessing an accurate knowledge of the daily events of the town and
+Ramachetty was well aware that one of the roads to her favour was by
+way of the gossip that was reliable.  Woe betide the unfortunate
+servant, however, who carried false news!
+
+"What do they say in the town about the school?" asked Wenaston.
+
+"That the boys will all be back by the end of the week.  Don't you
+worry, sir, over those little budmashes.  The school is known to be the
+best in the State under your superintendence.  You have no need to run
+after pupils.  They will run after you if you bide your time.  As
+William--that was my third--used to say when I went into the garden to
+call him in to dinner: 'No occasion for the cook to hunt up the hungry;
+they won't fail to be where the food is when they're empty.'"
+
+"Anyway I must be careful to see that nothing is done to give offence
+to the parents of the boys," said Wenaston, anxious to press home his
+orders.
+
+"I understand, sir.  We are to let Mr. Ananda alone.  It shall be as
+you wish, of course.  I pity him, I'm sure; but all the same, I would
+rather not be mixed up with his change of religion.  It's turning out a
+bigger job than he thought.  As William--that was my second--used to
+say: 'When a man bites off a bigger bit than he can chew, he can't look
+for any assistance from other men's teeth.'"
+
+The school bell rang and Wenaston, punctuality itself, turned away to
+obey its call.  Mrs. Hulver hastened to add her last word which, as
+usual, was the reflected wisdom of one of the departed.
+
+"As William--that was my third--used to say after I had scolded him for
+leaning a little too far over towards his weakness: 'A stormy morning
+brings a clear evening, Maria, me dear, so perhaps your breath has not
+been wasted.'  Everything will come right in the end if you give it
+time."  Then, as Wenaston hurried away, she turned to her son.
+"William, you sit in the back verandah whilst I change my dress.  We'll
+take a walk in the town and look at the boutiques in the bazaar."
+
+Twenty minutes later Mrs. Hulver issued from her bedroom a very
+different figure from the white clothed housekeeper, who with cook and
+butler behind her, went marketing in the morning.  Even William,
+junior, who had just come from London, was impressed by the glossy
+purple silk that "stood by itself," the white lace scarf and floral
+bonnet; to say nothing of the odds and ends of glittering jewellery
+that adorned her ample bust.
+
+Mother and son, in purple silk and scarlet uniform, presented a patch
+of colour on the green landscape that was arresting to the most
+careless eye.  The sensation created in the town was considerable.  It
+was a kind of triumphal progress.  Being fluent in the native language
+she explained who the stranger was, introducing him to the merchants
+sitting behind their stalls and to the few Eurasians who lived in
+Chirapore.
+
+Bopaul, sauntering along the street, was attracted by the sight of a
+British soldier, and stopped to inquire his name.  Mrs. Hulver hastened
+to explain with maternal pride and returned the compliment by asking
+about the identity of the questioner.  The sun touched the horizon
+before she thought of home.
+
+"Time to be going back, William.  As your father used to say: 'Keep
+time as if it was your best friend, and take care you don't kill it or
+waste it or lose it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+Eola sat with her brother after dinner as usual at the end of the
+verandah where there was shelter from the night air.  Wenaston read,
+and Eola finding his society dull, retired early to her room.  The
+servants had gone to their go-downs at the back of the compound to eat
+their evening meal.  The cicalas whirred in the foliage of the
+oleanders, and a brown owl screamed in its shikarring flight over the
+roof of the house.  Above the noises of the night was heard a step on
+the carriage drive.
+
+Wenaston rose and went to the top of the verandah steps.  Two men stood
+under the portico keeping in the shadow of the ornamental shrubs.
+
+"Who is there?" he asked in a low voice.
+
+One of the visitors came forward into the light and Wenaston recognised
+Bopaul.
+
+"Oh, it's you, is it?"
+
+"Yes, sir; I have brought Ananda.  He wants to see you about Mr.
+Alderbury's offer."
+
+Wenaston descended the steps and they retreated together out of reach
+of the lamp light.
+
+"How did you hear of it?" he asked in some surprise.
+
+There was a slight pause and then Bopaul explained that he had heard of
+it and had told Ananda.
+
+"From the telegraph clerk, I suppose," said Wenaston.  "If he knows it
+the whole town knows it."
+
+"Perhaps; but Ananda's people have not been told."
+
+"So much the better; it will make it easier for you to get away," said
+Wenaston addressing Ananda.
+
+"I have come to see you to-night, sir, to say that I have decided not
+to accept Mr. Alderbury's invitation.  I shall be glad if you will
+write and tell him so.  I have sent a letter which Bopaul posted for
+me; but it will be as well if you will add your word to mine."
+
+Wenaston listened in surprise.  He had concluded that the visit was
+made for the purpose of raising money for the journey.  It had not
+crossed his mind that the invitation would be refused.  He gazed at his
+visitors in the darkness as though he had not heard correctly.
+
+"Are you wise to remain here after the hostile demonstration we have
+experienced in the college?  I am afraid it won't end there."
+
+"It would be cowardly to run away," said Ananda in a firm voice that
+betokened determination backed by courage.  "I have reasons for
+remaining under my father's roof.  I am attached to my parents and----"
+he hesitated for a moment and then added quickly, "and to my wife and
+child.  If these two would come with me I would go to-morrow, or even
+to-night; but I won't leave Chirapore without them."
+
+"I am not sure that you are acting wisely; though I can't deny that it
+is courageous.  You need not stay away for ever.  You might return at
+any time.  Popular antagonism will die down if you are not here to keep
+it alive; and your family might become more reconciled to the step you
+have taken."
+
+"They might; on the other hand they might consider me as dead; and then
+think of the fate of my wife."
+
+"They would regard her as a widow, you mean."
+
+"The case is exceptional and without precedent in Chirapore.  They are
+more likely to consider the marriage annulled by my departure, and to
+give my wife to another man.  That shall not be as long as I have an
+arm to protect her.  She is mine; mine by right of past possession and
+she shall be mine in the future."
+
+Even Bopaul was impressed by the new attitude of his friend.  The
+weakness had disappeared in a marvellous manner, and every trace of
+timidity had vanished.
+
+"You might gain immediate possession of your wife if you would give up
+your new faith, and place yourself unreservedly in the hands of the
+guru and purohit," remarked Bopaul probing the new found courage with
+curiosity.
+
+Ananda turned on him.
+
+"That I will never do.  I may have to suffer for it.  Others have
+suffered for their religious opinions before now.  I will keep my faith
+and I will have my wife and child.  My father may disinherit me but he
+cannot deprive me of my son; and where the son is the mother will
+follow."
+
+"You have no power as a Christian over your child," said Wenaston,
+feeling that it would be wrong to leave him in ignorance of his true
+position.  "The law of the State will not give you the custody of him."
+
+"Who says so?"
+
+He named the native lawyer whom Alderbury had consulted.
+
+"As long as you remain in the State of Chirakul you are in the position
+of an outlaw, deprived of your citizenship, your legal standing, your
+civil rights.  As soon as you set foot in British India you resume your
+rights and can claim protection and justice in the courts of law
+belonging to the territory; although of course you can't obtain redress
+against this State.  Hadn't you better go where your rights will be
+respected and where you will have religious freedom?"
+
+"If things grow hopeless I might do so; but at present I wish to remain
+here and show my parents that I have no intention of running away.  On
+the contrary I am going to fight for my rights."
+
+Again Bopaul's eyebrows were uplifted.
+
+"Were you hurt, by the by, yesterday?" asked Wenaston.
+
+"Nothing to speak of.  I had a nasty blow on my head; but beyond a head
+ache I am none the worse, thank you, sir.  We won't keep you any
+longer.  I shall be glad if you will let Mr. Alderbury know that I am
+grateful.  At the same time make him understand that I have made up my
+mind to adopt this course, and that I am not likely to change.  I think
+he will approve of my facing the situation instead of running away from
+it.  And tell him also that I mean to fight for my wife and child."
+
+Wenaston turned back into the verandah and took up his book; but his
+attention wandered, and a little later he gave up attempting to read.
+As he extinguished the lamp he said to himself; "I wonder how much
+endurance the man has; and how much he will require to carry him
+through his troubles.  Where would the Christianity of some of us be if
+we were outlawed; and bashed on the head; and deprived of our wives and
+children?"
+
+After bidding Dr. Wenaston good night Bopaul and his companion walked
+home by unfrequented paths to avoid chance pedestrians.  There was not
+much danger of molestation unless Ananda deliberately put himself in
+the way of it.  No concerted action was likely to be taken at present;
+and his prompt disappearance from the college went far to allay the
+irritation that had sprung up so suddenly among the students.
+
+The two friends parted in silence except for a few whispered words from
+Bopaul to the effect that he would look him up on the morrow.
+
+Bopaul's attitude towards his friend was curious.  He had no sympathy
+with his conversion to Christianity.  He regarded the action as
+inexpedient and bordering on foolishness.  His opinion was that it had
+been carried out in haste, and without due consideration of all the
+different issues involved.
+
+His friendship with Ananda was of long standing, dating from early
+childhood, and the two men were attached to each other by ties of
+affection that could not be easily broken.  It grieved Bopaul to see
+his friend living in discomfort, and he was ready as far as he was able
+to render any little service that might be within his power.  The
+English training had fostered an independence of thought with tolerance
+for the opinions of others; and it showed its effects in Bopaul's
+character.  He took an independent line of action with regard to his
+friend as well as his sister.  According to the unwritten law of caste
+the widow and the outlaw should have been ruthlessly thrust from his
+life.  Instead of abandoning them to their fate he maintained a
+brotherly love for one and a friendly affection for the other.
+
+Of the two Ananda interested him the more.  He found himself studying
+the development of his friend's character under the fire of adversity.
+Obstinacy had already given birth to courage, and courage was breeding
+patience.  Ananda's refusal to take flight roused his admiration.  The
+firmly expressed determination to gain possession of his wife and child
+appealed to the romance that is inherent in all human beings, and of
+which Bopaul had a full share.  In addition curiosity as to how the
+affair would end helped to retain his attention and interest.
+
+Bopaul continued his habit of taking Mayita for a walk every day.  This
+daily outing, sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening, was
+the breath of life to the girl.  She lived for it; it was the one ray
+of veritable sunshine that entered her darkened life.  Perhaps it was
+the knowledge of this fact that made the brother sacrifice everything
+else to the little daily act of charity.
+
+They were a strange couple, the brother and sister; and more than one
+pair of inquisitive eyes looked after them as they strolled towards the
+forest.  At first his mother shook her head over the arrangement.  She
+even went so far as to try and stop it by setting Mayita tasks that
+would keep her occupied when her brother called for her to come.
+Bopaul with his casual manner, that was none the less insistent for all
+its apparent indifference, over-ruled his mother by seeking out Mayita
+and carrying her away from her unfinished work regardless of her
+protests.
+
+"Let be, wife; and trouble not yourself.  You need have no fear that
+our son will offend against the laws of caste," said his father.
+
+"It is not that which I fear; it is the bad luck the widow may bring
+upon him," returned the anxious mother.
+
+"Many men who have travelled have learned to disregard our omens.  As
+long as the boy doesn't follow in Ananda's steps I am content."
+
+"He is not likely to do that if we may believe the guru.  The swami was
+satisfied that his faith in our gods was not shaken."
+
+"If it had been shaken he would not have performed all the ceremonies
+that were necessary on his return.  Be content and let the boy go which
+way he pleases.  A little liberty in the field will keep the bullock
+from straying into the forest where the tiger lies."
+
+Bopaul's mother was of too indolent a disposition to seek unnecessary
+trouble.  Having spoken to her husband she rested in the comfortable
+assurance that responsibility was shifted on to his shoulders.  She put
+no more obstacles in the way of the walks, and they were continued to
+Bopaul's satisfaction and the girl's intense delight.
+
+She was in her fourteenth year, but she looked older.  During the last
+few months she had lost all trace of childishness and had matured like
+most Hindu girls of that age.
+
+As they walked, Mayita's hand in his, he told her of that wonderful
+country in the west where he had lived for more than three years among
+white people; where there was no caste; where widows after two years of
+mourning dressed themselves like other women with gold and jewels, and
+married again if they chose.  She interrupted him to express her horror
+of such depravity on the part of widows in any country civilised or
+savage.  She herself would sink into the earth with shame if she were
+asked to pursue such an outrageous course.  He described the life on
+board the big ship; the wide blue water with no land visible; the storm
+and tumbling waves with their white crests.  Then he took her in
+imagination to Bombay where the pictures he drew were easier to
+realise; and he told her of the crowded streets, the tall houses and
+the magnificent carriages of the Governor and native princes.
+
+Now and then they stopped.  Bopaul seated himself upon a boulder or a
+fallen tree and read a book.  Mayita gathered flowers, and had it not
+been for her sad condition the sweet blossoms would have been pushed
+into the strands of her hair; but the luxuriant black locks were gone
+and the bare shaven pate in its widowed condition offered no temptation
+for floral adornment.
+
+Sometimes she played a little game by herself with sticks and stones
+and leaves to represent the feast at which she would never again be
+present.  She bade the imaginary guests welcome and served them with
+make-believe dainties.  She paid them compliments and dismissed them
+with gifts of attar of rose and pan-supari, as she had seen her mother
+treat her real guests in the old days before Coomara died.
+
+Then Bopaul would close his book and call to her to come home.  On
+their way they sometimes stopped at Pantulu's house; and Bopaul leaving
+her under the trees by the compound wall sought Ananda in his little
+room.  The solitary man responded eagerly, and joined his friend with
+an alacrity that showed how the little act of kindness was appreciated.
+They paced to and fro at the end of the compound furthest from the
+house, till it was time for Mayita to return once more to the women's
+quarters of her father's house.
+
+No one interfered to stop the intercourse.  If Bopaul liked to seek out
+his friend, he was welcome to do so; and if he brought his widowed
+sister with him there was no one to say him nay.  He was at liberty to
+please himself; but to those who happened to observe the trio it seemed
+a strange way of amusing himself, to choose a widow as his companion
+and to visit an out-caste.
+
+Unknown to Ananda one of the most interested watchers of his movements
+was Dorama his wife.  Hidden from all eyes she gazed through the chink
+of a shutter at the familiar figure in the distance.  The boyishness
+was gone; it was the form of a man, a strong well-set-up man who would
+find favour with any woman.  In spite of all that had happened he was
+still her husband.  The thought thrilled her with a strange
+restlessness and longing.  It was very hard--it was almost unbearable
+to be separated thus.  Did he yearn for her as she yearned for him?  He
+could not or he would break down every barrier and come to her.  He
+would submit to the ceremonies for the restoration of his caste.  He
+would obey every order given by guru or purohit.  He would allow
+nothing, nothing!--nothing!--to stand between them and keep them apart.
+
+The tears coursed down her cheeks in anger and disappointment.  At one
+moment she could have scratched and bitten him for the contumacy that
+was costing her so much misery; at another she could have devoured him
+with passionate kisses.
+
+Meanwhile all unconscious of the secret watcher Bopaul and Ananda
+talked.  They spoke in English mindful of listening ears.  A little
+cross-examining of Mayita would elicit all she knew of what passed in
+conversation.  It was best for those concerned that there should be no
+tale-bearing.
+
+"You don't realise the greatness of your old faith," Bopaul was saying
+as they strolled under the shade of the trees that bordered the
+compound.
+
+"How can it be great when it fails to satisfy?" objected Ananda.
+
+"First let me show you that Hinduism is great by the light of its past
+history," said Bopaul eagerly.
+
+He plunged into much the same story as Alderbury had told Eola.  He
+described the antiquity of Hinduism; its marvellous organisation; its
+power of absorbing the conquered races; and he extolled the system of
+caste.
+
+Ananda listened and at the conclusion he remarked, "Caste and the power
+of the Brahman are being already undermined."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"We have apologists for their existence.  If either were divine in
+origin there would be no necessity for an apology."
+
+"I deny that the system of caste is being undermined.  It may have
+overgrown itself and need pruning.  Some of the senseless subdivisions
+should be broken up; and we want reform in our marriage laws----"
+
+His eyes sought the figure of his sister as she gathered some starry
+blue flowers growing among the rank grass.
+
+"Even if the caste system were reformed," objected Ananda, "and the
+greatness of Hinduism established in the world, there are certain
+tenets of its faith that seem to me impossible for an educated and
+enlightened man to accept."
+
+"Such as----?"
+
+"Transmigration."
+
+"Ah, yes; I remember.  That was the rock you split on."
+
+"I cannot accept the weary round of those cycles of rebirths."
+
+"You accept a cycle of existence of some sort?"
+
+"Existence; life; immortality of the soul; yes."
+
+"Which implies existence prenatal and after physical death?"
+
+"Certainly; Mr. Alderbury says that the germ of that idea lies hidden
+in most religions."
+
+"If you admit so much, why can't you accept the transmigration theory?
+It accounts for all the suffering that exists.  It is a retributive
+system of perfect justice.  The pains you suffer now are due solely to
+your own actions in a previous embodiment; and your conduct now will
+predetermine your pleasure and pain in your next incarnation.  To me it
+is an acceptable theory relieving one of an enormous responsibility."
+
+"If you really believe such a theory in its entirety, why do you
+attempt to give that child pleasure?"
+
+Bopaul laughed but made no reply, and Ananda continued:
+
+"The hopeless retributive character of the theory of transmigration
+seems to militate against our faith in the transcendence of God.  The
+system imposes limits not consistent with His Infinitude.
+Transmigration may seem just and right from a human point of view; but
+it is too full of tragedy to be seriously regarded as the deliberate
+work of an unlimited Deity."
+
+"It does away with injustice," persisted Bopaul.
+
+"And grinds existence down to a mechanism," added Ananda.
+"Christianity gives something infinitely superior--a good and perfect
+God.  The knowledge of this Deity has come to us through Jesus Christ.
+He has shown us not a retributive mechanical Deity, but a great and
+wonderful Father who deals with us better than we deserve.  Though men
+may by their freedom of choice choose what ought to bring them to ruin,
+the desire of God expressed through Christ, the great teacher, is to
+save them from the consequences of their actions."
+
+"What good can pain and suffering do if it is not a mill of
+retribution?"
+
+"It is an education and a discipline in the government of self.  I
+speak personally for I have felt my position in my father's house more
+than a little.  You may not see any change in my character, but I know
+that my views on the brotherhood of man and the Fatherhood of God have
+altered.  I don't mind confessing that my attitude towards the pariah
+who acted as my servant by my parents' orders has modified.  They
+thought to humiliate me, but they have taught me a lesson.  I recognise
+his humanity and his good qualities."
+
+"Yet you can't take the food he brings you?"
+
+"No, I can't; to my shame be it said; for it distresses him to see me
+starve.  There's a wide gulf between theory and practice in his case,
+and for the present I prefer to starve."
+
+"Poor, weak, human nature!" said Bopaul with a laugh in which Ananda
+joined, although the subject was no laughing matter.
+
+"And if pain comes into the life of a child who is not old enough to
+have sinned; how do you account for it?" asked Bopaul returning to the
+charge.
+
+"To reply in detail to this and similar objections would require a
+greater knowledge of the spiritual world than even the apostles
+themselves possessed.  'Now we see through a glass darkly,' said St.
+Paul.  Later illumination will assuredly come.  The curtain was partly
+lifted when Christ was born.  At His second coming it will be entirely
+raised, and by that time our eyes will be strong enough to bear the
+light."
+
+There was silence which Bopaul broke with another question.
+
+"Does the missionary teach you that after death comes sleep?"
+
+"No; there is no stagnation in the spiritual world any more than there
+is in the material world.  The souls of the departed are possessed of
+conscious memory, and they have a sense of pain and pleasure.  I
+believe," he spoke solemnly and with shining eyes that seemed to look
+beyond the limit of the Hindu's mental vision, "that Coomara instead of
+being reborn as a dog or a reptile in this world has entered into new
+powers of vitality and energy in a spiritual world that far exceeds the
+limitations of this world.  He lived a blameless life according to his
+lights, and he has entered into another life in which there will be
+progression and development.  With his entry into that new life he will
+acquire new powers of comprehension.  There will be a great movement
+forward in spirituality between his state here on earth and the new
+estate in the world he has entered.  The step will be as great or
+greater than if a dog entered the human life and were endowed with
+human privileges."
+
+"Excepting that he died under the ban of broken caste, Coomara was
+without faults," acquiesced Bopaul.  "But I cannot disregard the
+teaching of the guru who says that because of that broken caste he must
+suffer."
+
+"And I say in all honest hope," cried Ananda in ringing tones that
+caused the widow to glance at him in surprise.  "I say that through the
+power of the Christian's Man-God, Jesus Christ, the Great All-Father in
+His mercy and love will receive Coomara to Himself, and preserve him
+from the fate you anticipate.  I think upon his prospects almost with
+envy.  There was a time when I could only shudder in terror at what was
+promised by our faith; but now I am satisfied that he is happy."
+
+"The Hindu faith does not deny a progression towards a better state
+after death," said Bopaul.
+
+"May be; but it limits improvement to merit; and the merit is made to
+depend not only upon the past deeds of the dead, but also upon the
+voluntary deeds of the living descendants of the dead.  A neglect of
+the shraddah ceremonies by the grandchildren to the fourth generation
+condemns the soul to inferior rebirth.  Those rites for the repose of
+the dead are monstrous in their assumption and ridiculous in their
+childish nature."
+
+"All rites seem ridiculous and meaningless if you judge them by their
+action alone," said Bopaul.
+
+"Yet you perform them slavishly," said Ananda turning on him.
+
+Bopaul laughed as though he shook off all responsibility for the reason
+of his actions.
+
+"I am what that Englishman called his friend, do you remember? 'a
+blatant ritualist.'  I love ceremonies.  They give me a comfortable
+sense of having done my duty to the gods and to men.  I feel as if I
+had got out of debt and was starting afresh with a clean page."
+
+"Do you really believe in them?" asked Ananda searching the face of the
+other in a vain endeavour to penetrate the superficial lightness with
+which Bopaul touched these matters.
+
+"The purohit and the guru believe in them.  My father pins his faith to
+them, and I am content to take their word for it."
+
+"And I am not!  To my mind the three great props of Hinduism are
+crumbling away in spite of your blind faith--transmigration, the
+immaculate authority of the Brahmans and their Vedas; and the caste
+system."
+
+"Rank treason!" cried Bopaul roused at last into something approaching
+excitement.  "It is as well that the guru doesn't hear you!  Caste will
+never die; it will change its constitution and become more social than
+religious.  The Vedas will have new exponents and the germs that lie
+hidden in them will be brought to light and understood.  Transmigration
+will be modified with a new theory of progression in a life in other
+spheres under different conditions of corporality from the earthly
+life; and Hinduism reformed will be greater than ever."
+
+"It can only be done through Christ," responded Ananda with the
+enthusiasm of the convert.  "Christianity will develop all the germs
+that lie fallow in Hinduism and will throw light in the dark places.
+Why is the west to monopolise a revelation that was originally given to
+the east?  Why is the west to appropriate to itself the emancipation
+and promises made by that revelation?  We have a right to claim Christ
+for ourselves," he concluded.  "I for one make that claim and no one
+shall deny me!"
+
+Again there was silence.  Then Bopaul, without any outward sign of
+excitement, remarked:
+
+"Haste is an evil counsellor.  You are asking for trouble and you will
+get it.  Tell me, have you had a decent lodging or meal since you have
+been under your father's roof?"
+
+Ananda calmed down under the material inquiry after his bodily welfare,
+and he replied in a subdued voice:
+
+"No, and I am not likely to get one as far as I can see unless, as I
+said, I accept it at the hands of the sweeper."
+
+"How do you exist?"
+
+"I have some biscuits and I buy a draught of water from the caste
+waterman in the town.  Mr. Alderbury very kindly brought me some food
+when he came to see me."
+
+"I can't bring you any food I am sorry to say.  My mother would
+consider it an unfriendly act towards your parents.  How is your money
+lasting?"
+
+"It is nearly finished."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"I haven't thought about it," replied Ananda, a troubled expression
+overshadowing his face.
+
+"I can lend you a little.  I brought it to-day, a ten rupee note.  It
+is all I have that I need not account for.  I can get plenty from my
+father, but he takes good care to inform himself of how and where it
+goes.  The note is in this envelope.  Don't let my sister see it; she
+might tell my mother.  Just slip it into your pocket as quickly as you
+can."
+
+He held out his hand to Mayita.  "Come, little one, it is time we went
+home."
+
+At the entrance to the compound Bopaul stopped.
+
+"Take my advice and go to Mr. Alderbury," he said suddenly.
+
+"Not without my wife."
+
+"She will never join you."
+
+"That remains to be proved," replied Ananda unconvinced.
+
+"And remember that as a 'vert you have no conjugal rights," to which
+remark the other did not reply.
+
+Dorama still furtively watching saw Ananda return slowly and enter the
+mean little yard into which his still meaner room opened.  The smell of
+the curry prepared for the midday meal of the household met her
+nostrils.
+
+"How does he continue to live and look so strong and handsome?  He
+refuses to eat the food sent by the sweeper.  Ah! it should be given by
+my hand, the hand of his wife.  It is my right.  Husband! come to me!
+In your need, your hunger, cannot you hear the voice of your wife
+calling!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+The house of Pantulu Iyer was neither cheerful nor happy.  The master
+himself had aged visibly since the arrival of his son.  The signs were
+to be seen in the stooping figure and listless gait.  He had grown
+thinner, and his appetite was failing.  No matter how carefully the
+food was prepared he refused to eat, complaining sometimes that it was
+not palatable; at other times he asked with a querulousness that was
+not habitual, how they could expect him to eat when he knew that his
+dearly loved son was starving.
+
+All day long he sat and moped either in the verandah of the inner
+courtyard, or in the front room that opened by the big door on the
+carriage drive.  The door was kept shut and he seldom passed beyond it.
+If a friend came to call he refused to see him; and if any member of
+the family with the best intentions of amusing him attempted to talk to
+him, he dismissed him curtly.
+
+His gloom had a depressing effect on his wife; and for the sake of the
+household as well as her own she begged him to rouse himself.  She
+suggested visits to his looms in the town and to his silk farms in the
+suburbs.  The office books were brought, and at her direction his
+younger brother read aloud the carefully-kept accounts, showing how the
+business had increased and how the prosperity of his ventures was
+assured; but these and all other devices failed to rouse his interest.
+With the aptitude for fostering misery, a peculiarity of fatalism, he
+resigned himself to his circumstances and refused to make any struggle
+against what he believed to be the inevitable.
+
+In addition to the anxiety caused by her husband's melancholia, Gunga
+was further disturbed by the state of her grandson's health.  At the
+time when Dorama let him fall from her unconscious arms he had not
+shown any sign of having sustained any injury.  Beyond a few bruises no
+serious harm was apparent.  At the end of a week the child complained
+of pains in his back and hip.  He lost his activity and his good
+spirits; was disinclined to move and was always craving to be nursed by
+his mother or one of the women of the house.
+
+A prompt examination of the hip and spine by a skilled surgeon might
+have discovered the mischief and given relief; but skilled surgery was
+not obtainable from the native apothecary nor from the native doctor.
+A vaityan--as the Hindu medical man is called, a person without any
+scientific knowledge--was summoned, and he prescribed for fever.  As
+the medicine failed to have any beneficial effect, he declared that the
+child was suffering from the effects of the glance of an evil eye.  He
+must have come under its influence in some way unknown to his mother.
+Where had she carried him or led him?
+
+There was a searching back into memory for occasions when an evil eye
+might have rested upon him.  Some one recalled the events of the day
+following Ananda's arrival home, how he appeared on the verandah in
+front of the open door and how the child ran towards him.  It was also
+noted how the father of the boy had fixed his eye upon him with a great
+eagerness of possession.
+
+The vaityan was more than satisfied that in the incident they had found
+a solution of the mystery.  The unconscious longing awakened in the
+father at the sight of his child had given birth to a natural curse of
+the disappointment of his desire.  If he could not have the child
+himself no one should have him.  The baneful influence of the thought
+in the man's mind was working for evil in the boy's body.
+
+This pronouncement did not tend to allay the irritation felt throughout
+the family against the son who had brought the shadow of sorrow upon
+his father's house.
+
+The vaityan prescribed different medicine, and in addition recommended
+the performance of certain rites that were supposed to have the power
+of warding off spells.  He solemnly tied an amulet specially prepared
+on the child's arm.  The floor of the room where the boy slept was to
+be strewn with margosa leaves gathered fresh every day; and he was to
+drink the milk of a black goat that had not a single white hair.
+
+The execution of these numerous orders served to occupy the time and
+attention of the women; at the same time they kept alive the irritation
+against Ananda for being the cause of the trouble.
+
+In the midst of it all the guru appeared accompanied by his disciple.
+He had come unexpectedly and without invitation to learn why the
+restitution rites were not performed.  Reasonable delay he was prepared
+to permit; but if there was a wilful deferring of the ceremonies it was
+his duty to exhort and persuade into speedy amendment.
+
+The grave countenance of the swami struck terror into the hearts of the
+little company that hastily assembled to do him honour.  Pantulu fell
+at his feet in a humble prostration; and Gunga followed his example.
+As neither offered any explanation Pantulu's brother took upon himself
+the office of spokesman.  He described all that had happened; Ananda's
+conversion to Christianity in England; the punishments that had been
+inflicted when it was found that he not only refused to recant, but
+also declined to take any part in the restitution ceremonies.  The guru
+was told how he was lodged and served; of the attempts that had been
+made to degrade him and starve him; and how he had not been permitted
+to see either wife or child.
+
+The great man listened in silence; and when the story was ended the
+more timid ones of the little company trembled in apprehension of an
+outburst of anathema and general condemnation.  It did not come.  The
+expression on his face was severe but the words that fell from his lips
+sounded strangely mild and gentle.
+
+"We must look into this matter and see what can be done.  Let the child
+be brought; I am told that he is not well."
+
+Every one from Pantulu downwards was sensible of relief.  The anxiety
+that weighed so heavily was lifted and placed temporarily upon stronger
+shoulders.  Where they had failed in their methods the swami might
+succeed, and the heir of the house be restored to them.  What a
+rejoicing and feasting there would be! was the thought that ran through
+the minds of many of the women.  The only person who differed in this
+attitude was Pantulu's brother.  Slowly and insidiously he was stepping
+into the position rendered vacant by Ananda's apostacy to the faith of
+his fathers.  The little Royan would inherit his grandfather's wealth,
+and during the long minority his great uncle would be practically
+master of the house and guardian of the person of the minor; but in the
+event of the child's death Sooba would be the heir.
+
+The drooping child with pathetic signs of pain in his pinched features
+was brought to the guru who examined him closely and confirmed the
+opinion of the vaityan.  The boy, he said, was placed under the
+displeasure of the gods and was suffering for his father's sins.  If he
+died--he shook his head solemnly, not thinking of the inheritance but
+of the future state.  The company did not require to be told the fate
+of a child dying under such circumstances.
+
+Then Pantulu in a trembling voice described his own bodily failings,
+loss of appetite and sleep, weakness of limbs and an ebbing away of
+vitality that could only mean the approach of death.
+
+Again the oracle assumed a severe expression.  What could be expected
+but the withering and drooping of the parent when the son was so
+inhumanly wicked as to break away from his ancestral faith?  He would
+consider what was best to be done, and consult with the brother of the
+sick man.  Then the family offered up thanks and adoration, each member
+prostrating him or herself before the guru as he withdrew to the room
+assigned for his use.  Sooba followed and the door was closed on the
+two men.
+
+The interview lasted some time and advice was given that was virtually
+a command.  Sooba would not divulge what it was until the moment
+arrived for action.  Only to Gunga did he give a hint of what the great
+man intended to do; and she expressed her full approval.
+
+"And if this should fail?" she asked with a sinking heart for she knew
+the strength of her son's obstinacy.
+
+Her brother-in-law lowered his voice and replied in a whisper.  Her
+head was bent and she made no reply; but her lips closed firmly.
+
+"You will not speak to my husband on this matter.  He is too weak, too
+feeble to deal with it," she said later.
+
+"It will be best to keep him in ignorance--until the orders of the
+swami have been carried out," answered Sooba.  "I have your consent to
+act?"
+
+"There is no other way of bringing him to reason; and who am I to
+contradict and oppose one who speaks with the authority of the gods?"
+replied Gunga, sadly.
+
+On the following morning, after Ananda had risen from his hard,
+uncomfortable bed and breakfasted on some hot milk and biscuits, he was
+surprised at receiving a visit from his uncle.  The cup that had
+contained the milk had been replaced in the tiffin basket with the tin
+of biscuits, and no trace was discernible to the sharp eyes of the
+visitor of the simple morning meal.
+
+In a more courteous tone than had been adopted by any member of the
+family hitherto, he asked Ananda to accompany him into the house.  At
+first there was a very natural hesitation to obey such an unexpected
+summons; but on second thoughts Ananda deemed it wiser to go than to
+refuse.  For all he could tell it might be the first sign of relenting.
+
+He closed the book he was reading, placed it upon the table, and
+without a word followed his uncle through the compound to the front of
+the house.  Side by side they mounted the steps that led into the
+verandah.  The big door stood open, and they passed through it into the
+entrance-room.  Bidding him stay there his uncle left him for a few
+minutes.
+
+The door leading into the centre courtyard was wide open, and through
+it he caught sight of some of the women of the household, as they moved
+in and out of the kitchen and its offices in the execution of their
+domestic duties.  His eye sought eagerly for the familiar figure of his
+wife or child, but no trace of them or of his parents was visible.
+
+As he gazed into the sunlit yard memories crowded back upon him
+thickly.  The place was full of associations connected with his
+childish games, the idle chatter of his boyhood, the visit of the guru
+and the purohit when they came to perform ceremonies that once were so
+full of awe and mystery; and that now by the light of the new teaching
+seemed so futile and childish.
+
+In the midst of his reverie his uncle reappeared, and leading him to a
+room signed to him to enter.  He heard the door close behind him and
+knew that his companion had not followed.
+
+Ananda scarcely dared to believe his eyes.  In front of him stood
+Dorama, not a sad tearful repellent Dorama; but a loving, expectant
+wife, happy and confident.
+
+She was dressed as a bride in a rich silk saree.  Her neck, arms and
+hair gleamed with gold and precious stones.  Jasmine blossom peeped
+from the strands of her glossy hair.  Her complexion was heightened by
+the subtle use of saffron, and there was an alluring scent of sandal
+wood in the air.
+
+He strode towards her impetuously; gathered her into his arms pressing
+passionate kisses upon her unresisting mouth.  The thirst of his heart
+was not easily assuaged.  He lost count of time; his eyes were blind to
+everything but the beautiful woman who nestled against his breast with
+inarticulate murmurs of contentment.  His pulses leaped as he realised
+that his kisses were returned.  She loved him!  She was his!  How the
+clouds parted and rolled aside at the assurance!
+
+A hand was laid upon his shoulder with no light touch, and they were
+forced apart.  Ananda turned angrily upon the intruder who dared to
+interpose and found himself face to face with the guru.  Yielding in
+his surprise to the old instinctive habit of his youth he placed his
+hands together palm to palm.
+
+"Pardon, swami; I did not know that you were present," he said.  "I
+thought I was alone with my wife."
+
+For all his humility and deference there was a note of pride in his
+tone that jarred on the ear of the man who arrogated to himself the
+attributes of a god.  The words seemed to imply that the third person
+present at such a meeting, whoever he might be, was an intruder; and
+that the sooner he departed the better pleased the husband would be.
+
+As for Dorama her head sank upon her breast in what appeared to be an
+overwhelming fit of outraged modesty.  Inwardly she was glowing under
+that ardent embrace, tingling to her finger tips, every nerve thrilled
+by his possessive touch.  She had been well tutored beforehand as to
+her conduct, how she was to do all in her power to attract her errant
+husband and draw him back to her; how she was to appeal to him by words
+and tears and pray him to return.  The programme thus mapped out for
+her did not include the unexpected greeting, and she felt confused.
+Ananda had begun at the wrong end and cut the ground on which she was
+to base her pleading from beneath her feet.  She drew aside leaving the
+swami to speak.
+
+"I have arranged for you to see your wife and speak with her.  She is
+also to hear what I have to say to you.  I understand that you have
+refused the rites that should restore your caste----"
+
+"I have become a Christian and I have received the Christian rite of
+baptism.  Under those circumstances the Hindu rites are unnecessary,"
+interrupted Ananda, careful to preserve the courtesy rendered
+instinctively by a man of good caste to an equal.
+
+"It matters not what you call yourself," replied his former spiritual
+teacher with a lowering glance; "nor does it signify in the least what
+strange ceremonies you may have seen fit to go through in England.
+They can all be cast aside like the blanket clothing you were obliged
+to adopt when the frost and snow came.  The delayed rites must be
+performed, and I am here to see that they are properly carried out."
+
+The guru restrained himself with difficulty.  Ananda's independent
+attitude and simple courage roused his anger.  The great man could not
+fail to observe that he had very little hold on the attention of his
+hearers.  Already Ananda was turning impatiently to the woman as though
+he had disposed of the intruder and swept him off his horizon by the
+announcement of his change of faith.
+
+"Wife, where is the child, our child?  My eyes ache for a sight of him!"
+
+"He is not well."
+
+"Not well?  How is that?" he asked with parental concern that sounded
+sweet to her unaccustomed ears.
+
+"He pines for his father," she replied falteringly.
+
+"Tell him how he has laid a curse not only on the child but also on his
+parents," broke in the swami unable to keep silence.  "The curse will
+extend to his wife as well, if she fails to draw him back from his evil
+ways."
+
+She looked from one to the other, trembling under the stern eye of the
+swami.
+
+"Husband will you not return to us?  The big father pines for a sight
+of his son.  The old eyes are blind through tears.  The child----!" she
+stopped unable to command her voice.  "Husband!" she continued.  "Your
+wife more than all pines also.  The day is long and weary without you.
+The night is unbearable in its misery.  Will you not come to us, our
+lord and master?"
+
+She held out her arms, and again he would have clasped her to himself;
+but in accordance with instructions given by no less a person than the
+swami himself she drew back; and the guru by a slight movement glided
+in between them.
+
+"The reward is ready and waits with impatience," said the swami, his
+lips parting for a moment and showing the white teeth in a smile that
+was not born of kindness or pity.  "But you are not ready for the
+reward."
+
+Ananda ignored the speech and continued to address Dorama with
+increasing emotion.
+
+"Come?  Will I not come?  Beloved, I will come!  I am ready; I have
+been waiting till my heart was sick with longing.  Wife!" he cried
+passionately, "I claim you as my own unconditionally.  I command you to
+join me.  Come willingly if you can; but willing or unwilling I shall
+not cease trying to regain my rights."
+
+"You have no rights!" cried the guru, a definite challenge in his voice.
+
+"That remains to be seen," replied Ananda shortly, as though he grudged
+the precious moments wasted in speech with any one but his wife.  He
+turned to her again.  "Beloved!  There is no reason why you should not
+come to me now."
+
+Hot words of desperate pleading fell from his lips.  He had no more
+regard for the presence of the swami than for a yellow lizard on the
+wall.  Dorama listened with charmed ears, her lips apart in a smile
+that set her husband's pulses throbbing.  She too under the magical
+influence of long deferred love was unconscious of the presence that
+overshadowed them.
+
+She had promised faithfully to plead the cause of Hinduism, but
+religion was forgotten.  Love and love alone was paramount.  Nothing
+else mattered.  Her eyes shone with a light that spoke volumes to both
+men, bringing joy and hope to Ananda but misgiving to the guru.  He had
+not calculated on the turn events had taken.  The warm impulsive
+greeting between husband and wife had been out of his reckoning.  The
+magical effect of touch had been undreamed of.
+
+Another factor that had not been considered was Ananda's matured
+manhood.  The timid boy whom the guru had instructed in the old days
+with fatherly authority was gone, and in his place stood an individual
+of strong character developed in the hard school of persecution.  It
+was not easy for the guru to obtain a hearing.  He seized upon a pause
+when the husband having made his appeal waited for his wife's reply.
+
+"Woman!" he cried, in a rough overbearing voice.  "Tell your husband
+under what conditions you will consent to join him."
+
+Dorama gave the swami a frightened glance, and began in a faltering
+voice as though she were repeating a half-learned lesson.
+
+"If my lord will consent to the rites being performed----"
+
+"Beloved wife! light of my eyes! joy of my heart! the ceremonies that
+made me your husband were long ago performed.  They need not be
+repeated!"
+
+"She means----" began the guru in a still louder voice than he had
+addressed Dorama.
+
+Ananda took a step forward and in tones that echoed round the room,
+said--
+
+"Silence, swami, silence!  Let the husband plead with his wife.  All
+the world over the rule holds good that the wife shall listen to her
+husband; aye, and obey him!"
+
+"Outcaste, and cursed of the gods!  She is no wife of yours!"
+
+"Christian or Hindu, we are one, she and I whatever you may say!"
+Again he turned to Dorama.  "My lotus bud, my pearl!  Do not listen to
+his words.  Believe me you are mine for ever.  Do you remember our
+marriage, not the mere ceremonies that made you mine; but the after
+rites when they gave you into my arms?  We were so young then!  We were
+like children half grown and only half awake.  Now, now, loved one! my
+own little wife! we are awake, yes, awake and waiting and longing!
+Come, beloved!  We have waited too long!"
+
+The words poured from his lips in an irresistible torrent, and the guru
+was powerless to stop them.  At their conclusion Ananda moved towards
+his wife who stood with hands clasped, her face turned to his.
+
+"Back, back!" cried the guru in threatening accents.
+
+"Come, come, beloved!"
+
+With a swift decisive movement Ananda thrust aside the intervening body
+of the guru; and Dorama half sobbing, half laughing, and wholly sweet
+and yielding, was once again in his strong embrace; once, again in
+spite of the terrible presence of the swami, she felt his lips upon
+hers and dared--yes, dared to give back kiss for kiss.  Then she felt
+herself put away with the same purposeful force.
+
+"Go, little one, go before the swami curse you," he said in her ear.
+Dropping his voice to a whisper he continued rapidly.  "You know where
+to find me.  If your heart is brave enough to seek your husband, come
+by day or in the dead of night, beloved, and you will find your place
+in these arms.  Now go, light of my eyes, my priceless jewel!"
+
+As he spoke he gently pushed her to the door and, opening it, thrust
+her out, closing it after her.  He returned to the middle of the room
+and looked the guru squarely in the face.
+
+"Now, swami," he said temperately; "speak out!  Say what you have to
+say as man to man.  I am ready to listen.  Curse me if you like by all
+your gods.  Your curses cannot hurt."
+
+The unflinching gaze that accompanied this speech told the guru more
+plainly than words that as far as Ananda was concerned his authority
+was called in question, his influence was gone and his godhead denied.
+"As man to man," Ananda had said.  There was no recognition of
+twice-born infallibility in that sentence.  The guru ground his teeth
+in his rage.  He knew what it meant; it was the attitude of the cursed
+Christian towards the Brahman.  The Brahman and Christian met as man to
+man on a common human platform; and the man without caste, the follower
+of a strange faith that denied the Hindu deities claimed to be equal
+with the divinely born exponent of the Vedas, the being of exalted
+caste who was immune from sin.  He, the guru, the swami, in whose body
+resided the mantric essence, the soul of the deity, he who was sinless,
+was thrust from his pedestal by one whom he had instructed in his youth!
+
+Words failed him and he was speechless; he had lost command of his
+tongue and he could neither curse nor upbraid.  Not only had Ananda
+spoken to him as an equal, but when he would have interposed between
+husband and wife, the apostate had laid a vigorous hand on him full of
+strength and determination and had put him aside.  Never before had he
+been addressed in that manner, and never had such a thing been heard of
+as to touch the sacred person of a swami with a sacrilegious hand.
+
+The warm shades of his skin yellowed and he gasped as he made for the
+door.  With a strange courtesy learned in England Ananda passed before
+him, lifted the latch and held the door open.  The guru strode from the
+room transported with a rage that knew no bounds; and Ananda even as he
+rejoiced in his triumph wondered vaguely in what form the man's
+vengeance would fall.  God grant that it might be directed against
+himself, and not against the beautiful woman who had so lately nestled
+in his arms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+Ananda's interview with his wife and the guru produced a curious
+result.  It not only roused him out of meek resignation, but it
+stimulated his nerves, strengthened his will, and focussed his mental
+vision on the situation created by his conversion to Christianity.  It
+was as though a certain visible growth had begun; the fruit of that
+growth promised to be action.
+
+Hitherto his policy had been one of waiting and of patience amounting
+to little less than apathy.  He had been drifting and existing rather
+than acting and living.  It is true that the passive period was not
+without its advantage.
+
+The plant that shows no shoot above ground is not necessarily dormant
+and idle.  There may be great activity underneath the soil.  It was so
+with Ananda.  Strong roots capable of standing the stress of mental
+disturbance developed.  From them were to spring actions that would be
+marked by endurance and fortitude, where formerly there had been
+weakness and timidity.
+
+As he held the soft yielding figure of his wife in his arms he was
+conscious of a concentration of purpose he had never experienced
+before.  The waiting policy insensibly died.  Definite determination
+took the place of vague desire.  He resolved to strike out a line for
+himself.  The object of it should be to gain possession of his wife and
+child and to find a means of providing a home for them both.  With this
+determination came the conviction that his wishes could not be
+fulfilled by remaining any longer under his father's roof.  He must
+leave home as soon as possible.  The opportunity for so doing had been
+offered, but he had refused it.  He must reconsider it.  There was no
+necessity to write, it would be better not to do so lest by any chance
+the letter was tampered with.  He was aware that he would be watched
+and spied upon more than ever after what had passed between himself and
+the guru; he must be cautious if he wished to escape.  Alderbury, he
+was sure, would give him a warm welcome, and again proffer the helping
+hand.
+
+He counted the change left out of Bopaul's ten rupee note.  There was
+more than enough left to pay for his journey to the headquarters of the
+mission, whether he went by road or by rail.
+
+The next question to be considered was the best means of getting away
+from the house with his luggage without raising opposition or provoking
+assault.  The only servant at his disposal was the pariah, and his good
+offices were restricted by the fact that he had again been forbidden to
+wait on the young master any longer.  His visits had to be paid
+secretly and at night.  The man need not have come at all; but with
+that fidelity so often found among the lower people of India who serve
+their superiors, he remained faithful to the son of the house whom he
+had known and worshipped from a distance as a child and boy.
+
+When the lights were extinguished and voices ceased murmuring in the
+women's rooms, the untouchable, as the caste people termed the pariah,
+crept softly into the little yard and entered the room where Ananda
+slept.  By the dim light of the tumbler lamp he performed the duties he
+had been forbidden to do.  With quick, silent fingers he tidied the
+room, cleaned the shoes and filled the earthen chafing-dish with fresh
+charcoal.  So quiet was he in all his movements that his master's deep
+sleep was undisturbed till the moment when a gentle rattle of the
+milkcan against the compound wall outside told of the arrival of the
+milkman with his cow.  Even then the faithful servitor, remembering his
+uncleanness, forbore to lay a hand upon the recumbent figure.  Kneeling
+by his side he uttered the loud chirrup of the wall-lizard until the
+sound pierced the brain of the sleeper.  Then Ananda rose, and, taking
+up the milk-bottle that belonged to his tiffin-basket, went to fetch
+the milk.  The pariah watched, and when his master returned he blew up
+the charcoal on which the coffee was to be made.  No conversation
+passed between the two.  The one received and the other gave his
+services without thanks or apology.  Yet Ananda was not ungrateful.
+
+Although nothing of any consequence was said, this curious intimacy had
+a beneficial effect upon the 'vert.  Unconsciously he was learning that
+wonderful lesson of Christianity--the brotherhood of man.  His
+repugnance to the pariah was decreasing, and he no longer shrank with
+disgust as his eye fell upon his figure.  The books given by Alderbury
+contained much that bore on the subject, and Ananda had had plenty of
+leisure to absorb their contents, with the result that in his desperate
+need he was able to turn without repulsion to the only human being who
+could render help.
+
+In the small hours of the morning after Ananda's interview with Dorama,
+the usual routine had been observed, while scarcely a word passed
+between the two.  The man was turning away to leave, having blown up
+the chafing-dish of live coal, when Ananda called softly to him.  He
+stopped at once, and salaamed, wondering what his master could have to
+say if it was not complaint at some unconscious shortcoming in his
+service.
+
+"I must leave my father's house, and I require your help."
+
+Again the pariah touched his forehead with both hands; then, placing
+them together, palm to palm, he listened deferentially to Ananda's
+explanation and instructions.  He was to bring a cart to take the
+luggage to the station in time to catch the night mail of that day.
+
+The pariah prostrated himself and lifted his folded hands in entreaty.
+
+"Sir! this unworthy slave prays your honour to be careful.  There are
+men in the town who openly declare that if they meet your excellency
+they will beat you and drive away the Christian devil which they say
+has entered the noble body of the presence.  During the day they wait
+outside hoping to catch your honour walking.  There is danger also in
+the house."
+
+"Danger!" repeated Ananda quickly.  "How is that?  Stand up and tell me
+about it."
+
+The man rose apologetically to his feet and continued his story.
+
+"My wife sweeps out the back yard where the refuse is thrown.  She
+heard one of the kitchen women telling the girl from the market that
+the swami departed in anger, and that his wrath must be appeased,
+otherwise worse misfortune will befall the family.  He left orders with
+the small master, the brother of our most noble big master, that your
+excellency was not to be allowed to leave the grounds."
+
+"How can he stop me?" asked Ananda, with some heat.
+
+"By the aid of the men who watch outside."
+
+"Are they there all night?"
+
+"No, sir; they do not think that you will try to leave secretly and at
+night.  Where could your honour go to hide, they say?  Every
+hiding-place is known to them, and no one in the town would dare to
+give shelter against the wishes of Pantulu Iyer's family.  Great care
+will be needed in leaving your honourable father's house without
+permission."
+
+Ananda was silent.  The fact that he was living in a state of siege
+that might very soon become close imprisonment was being forced upon
+him.  It was an unpleasant truth, but one to which he could not remain
+blind.  His conviction that he must get away as speedily as possible
+grew; and the sweeper was right in urging upon him the necessity of
+caution if he wished to ensure success in carrying out his intentions.
+
+The coffee seethed on the live coals.  As he removed the pot he
+motioned to the pariah instinctively to stand away.  The action was an
+involuntary response to the inherited prejudice.  He was obeyed
+instantly and without resentment.  The man retired to the doorway, and
+would have passed out into the darkness had it not been for another
+command.
+
+"Come back, I have not finished what I have to say.  Tell me, what do
+you think ought to be done?"
+
+The other glanced at him in surprise, although he did not venture to
+express it.  Had ever one of the twice-born been heard to ask the
+advice of a sweeper?  If he should dare to say in the hearing of men of
+caste that he had been thus consulted, he would be beaten for his
+presumption until his back streamed with blood.
+
+With ever-recurring apology for daring to advise so great an
+excellency, he unfolded a plan of escape which seemed to Ananda, the
+more he considered it, the only possible means of getting away.  The
+excellency was to pack his property into parcels and bundles which the
+sweeper would convey away in the night with the assistance of his wife
+and son to some safe hiding-place in the jungle.  The portmanteaux must
+be left behind, empty, or suspicion would be roused if by chance one of
+the family paid a visit to the master.  On the second night after the
+household had retired Ananda was to steal quietly away and walk to a
+station some distance from the town, where he would not be recognised.
+The sweeper and his relatives would act as carriers for his luggage.
+His sister who served the College excellency would obtain a day's
+holiday from the housekeeper and help.  All might be relied upon for
+keeping the secret, and his honour need have no fear.
+
+Ananda made only one suggestion, that he should start with them and
+take the train twenty-four hours earlier.  To this the man objected on
+the score of requiring more time to make the arrangements for the night
+march.  When Ananda spoke of a reward the pariah protested vehemently
+that none was required.  Some day in the future, when his honour had
+grown rich, perhaps he would allow his son and daughter to serve him--a
+promise easy to give and easy to perform when the time should come.
+The crowing of cocks fell on their ears, and the men started.
+
+"I must be going, sir.  The women will soon awake and be moving to the
+cattle shed.  Your excellency must forgive this worthless servant for
+touching your honour's sacred property; but there is no other way," he
+said deprecatingly.
+
+"It is forgiven," replied Ananda, remembering how roughly he had bidden
+that same man on his arrival to leave his trunks alone.  Rather than
+have them contaminated by his touch he had himself hauled them into his
+room.  "Did you not carry the Englishman's food basket for him?  Then
+surely you may carry my clothing without offence."
+
+All day Ananda was busy in the privacy of his little den, putting his
+personal belongings together in handy portable parcels, tying some in
+bundles when his limited supply of brown paper and string came to an
+end.  Quiet reigned over the house; and if he chanced to look out of
+the door no one crossed his line of vision in the compound.  By the
+afternoon he had finished.  He put on his cap to take a little walk.
+Beyond the wall that bounded the grounds he caught sight of two or
+three figures.  They would have attracted no attention had it not been
+for the warning of the pariah.  The man was correct.  Undoubtedly he
+was being watched as far as the outside of the house was concerned, and
+with no friendly intention either; but as long as he remained indoors
+he was left severely alone.  This was satisfactory, as the sight of his
+preparations would rouse suspicion and endanger the success of his
+scheme.
+
+His eyes frequently sought that part of the house in which he knew were
+the women's quarters.  The small jealously-shuttered windows gave no
+hint of what was passing behind the Venetians.  Was Dorama there?  Did
+she seek for a glimpse of her husband as eagerly as he craved for a
+sight of his wife?
+
+He paced up and down, book in hand, his thoughts busy elsewhere.  The
+luggage was ready in its new form, and it was to be carried off that
+very night.  In the small hours of the following night he would quietly
+slip away, and thus cut himself adrift for ever from the home of his
+birth.
+
+Again he searched the landscape.  A strong desire to see and speak once
+more with his wife lay at the back of his mind.  He wanted to tell her
+of his plans; to ask her to wait and to beg of her to join him as soon
+as he had a shelter to offer her.
+
+He cudgelled his brains for some device by which a message might be
+conveyed in safety, and could only think of the sweeper.  The pariah
+servant had no opportunity, however, of approaching the lady Dorama
+within speaking distance.  Even if chance favoured the messenger he
+would be unable to carry out his mission.  At the mere sight of him she
+would shrink away with all the prejudice of her caste, and resent the
+smallest breach of the caste law.  The pariah, by the unwritten law,
+could not do otherwise than maintain the prescribed distance between
+her and himself.  If he dropped a letter in her path or placed it where
+she might find it, his contaminating touch would be sufficient for her
+avoidance of the missive.  Moreover, a written letter was of no use.
+She could neither read nor write.  His only hope was in a chance
+interview, and as the hours slipped by the hope grew fainter.
+
+The following day passed heavily.  The luggage was safely removed
+without accident.  His books and writing materials were gone with the
+rest of his property, and he would not see them again till he arrived
+at the distant station.  He had biscuits with him and some
+pomegranates.  The sharp sweetness of the juice served to assuage his
+thirst.
+
+He went out into the compound as often as he dared.  It did not do to
+spend too much time in the open, since it had not been his habit.  It
+might be remarked upon.  He noted the figures beyond the wall, and knew
+that he was being watched with the same vigilance as was shown
+yesterday and the day before.  Frequently his eye turned towards the
+blue-green mountain mass with its dark-grey rocks and heavy forest.
+Then he looked back at the familiar building, the home of his
+ancestors, and once the hot unshed tears made his eyes smart at the
+thought of leaving it.  The blood rushed to his head and back again to
+his heart with a violence that almost threw him off his mental balance.
+Could he muster up strength enough to abandon all that the home meant?
+Would he have the courage when the moment came to sever the ties that
+bound him to father, mother, wife--no, not wife!  She and the child
+would follow by and by.  He refused to entertain any doubt on the
+subject.
+
+All the same, he was conscious of a shudder, the kind of inward quake
+experienced by the soldier at the sound of the first bullet whizzing
+over his head on the battlefield.  He checked it at once and took a
+fresh grip of himself, sternly and resolutely shutting down sentiment
+and its companion emotion.
+
+"I can't go back!  I can't go back!  There is nothing but hideous
+darkness behind me.  I must go forward.  The light is in front!  Ah!
+dear Christ, the Son of God! lead me forward in safety!  Lead me on!"
+
+The mental disturbance passed as suddenly as it had overwhelmed him.
+Once more he was conscious of a great peace.  It was as though he had
+entered that wonderful temple of God standing in the heart of London,
+where the strains of the organ rise above the roar of the streets, and
+where a man may feel that he is in the presence of the living God of
+Love, the Father of the Universe.
+
+The sun dropped behind a shoulder of the mountain, and the sky broke
+into a glory of many colours.  He watched it until it faded.  Suddenly
+he was startled by a sound.  As the last ray left the top of the hill
+and the forest mantled into a sombre green, a wail arose in the women's
+rooms.  It was followed by the beat of a tomtom.
+
+He stood at the entrance of the yard and listened.  As the light faded
+the wailing increased.  He could distinguish by the sound of the voices
+a movement.  They were leaving the house for the garden.
+
+Yes!  He knew the ritual of old!  Some one was dying, and death was
+close at hand.  The man or woman--he started as the thought struck him
+that it might be his father--had been carried out of the house and laid
+upon mother earth to breathe his last.
+
+How well he remembered the ceremonies with which death was greeted; the
+lifting with tender care of the dying from the cot or mat and the
+gentle placing of the gasping patient upon the smooth ground.  Close by
+grew the sacred tulsi, without which no spirit could take its flight in
+peace.  He could picture his mother bending over the plant to gather a
+sprig.  He fancied he could smell the aromatic scent of the broken
+stalk of sweet basil as she placed the sprig above the head of the
+sufferer--perhaps touching the dry lips with it, leading as she did so
+the wail of mourning.
+
+The chorus of women's voices swelled on the evening air; the whole
+household must be joining in.  Who could it be?  The pariah had said
+nothing of any illness in the family.  If it had been his father the
+man would have mentioned it.  He concluded that it must be one of the
+many relatives who lived in the house.  Some of them had joined the
+family during his absence in England; others had grown out of
+knowledge; it was useless for him to conjecture.
+
+The presence of death is always a solemn moment, even though the person
+may not be known.  Ananda remained standing by the entrance of the
+yard, his eyes turned towards the west, but his ears bent to catch
+every sound that came from the house.  Each change in the note of grief
+spoke eloquently of the ebbing life, and he listened for the final
+cries that would betoken the drawing of the last breath.
+
+The colour died out of the sky except upon the horizon, which glowed
+with a vivid luminous green.  The steady yellow light of the evening
+star shone in the wake of the sun's path.  Bats fluttered in the air,
+following the strong-winged moth that sought the almond-scented
+blossoms of the oleander.  In the distance the faint hum of the town
+rose occasionally and died away again.  A cart went slowly by, its
+axles groaning as the bullocks plodded along, urged by the guttural
+shouts of the sleepy driver.
+
+The wailing in the house stopped and silence reigned.  The stars grew
+brighter and the living green of the west was lost in darkening greys.
+An owl in the distant forest sent forth a discordant shriek.  As if in
+reply the familiar note of grief was renewed in slightly different
+tones mingled with a violent tomtoming.
+
+Death had come; and the patient, whoever he or she might be, had drawn
+the last breath.
+
+Memory was busy with the past once more.  Sad though the sound of
+mourning might be, it belonged to his life.  Death without those
+accompanying sounds would not seem to be death, any more than marriage
+would seem to be marriage without the dancing girls and their
+love-songs.
+
+He had renounced all such things and set them aside for ever.  Again,
+with a determined effort, he thrust sentiment aside and shut his ears
+to the mourning.  All night long the mourners would be up and busy over
+the preparations for the disposal of the body the next day.  There was
+no reason why he should not sleep however.  He had a long walk before
+him.  The sweeper was to meet him at the station in the morning at
+eight o'clock, and he was to take the train that was due soon after
+that hour.  He intended starting between three and four.  The road was
+familiar.  India is not troubled with too many by-paths.  Even if the
+route had been unknown to him, he could not easily have missed it.
+
+He retired to his room and threw himself upon his charpoy bed.  He
+could still hear the monotonous wailing, but it was not disturbing.
+Having reassured himself that it could not possibly be his father, he
+troubled no more about the unknown dead.  On the whole it was fortunate
+that the household was occupied with its own affairs.  There was less
+likelihood of attention being directed towards himself.  His escape
+ought to be easy, and, thus thinking, he fell asleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+Ananda lay in a deep, dreamless sleep, the restful slumber of a healthy
+man whose mind was as wholesome as his body.  One hand was tucked under
+his cheek, the other was thrown forward and hung slightly over the edge
+of the cot.  All his troubles, his doubts and fears, his deprivations
+and hardships, lately inflicted, were forgotten.  It was the best
+preparation he could have for entrance on the new life, when he would
+have to live "by the sweat of his brow," like a multitude of good men
+who had gone before him, and others who would come after him.
+
+He had had four hours of solid sleep without stirring, when he became
+aware of a touch upon the hand that rested on the border of the bed.
+It was a soft, coaxing touch that sent an electric message to his
+brain.  In the old days before he went to England that same touch had
+often roused him at dawn.  He lifted his head and breathed one word:
+
+"Wife!"
+
+"I am here!" came the ready response.
+
+She was in his arms the next moment, clinging to him whilst convulsive
+sobs--stifled, but none the less strong--shook her from head to foot.
+
+At first words failed them both, he in his astonishment and she in the
+violence of her grief; but as tears relieved the overburdened brain of
+the woman she regained sufficient command of herself to speak.
+
+"Our little son!--my baby!  He is dead!"
+
+Then, as an exclamation escaped Ananda's lips, she placed her hand over
+his mouth.
+
+"Ah! hush!" she whispered.  "They do not know that I have come to you.
+If they find me here they will beat me again!"
+
+"Beat you!  My pearl!  Who has dared to lay a finger upon my wife?" he
+whispered fiercely, drawing her still closer.
+
+"Our uncle's wife.  Of late she has taken much upon herself.  She has
+tried continually to push me from my place, saying that her husband
+would be the big master of the house when your father died.  Then she
+will be mistress, and as such it was only fitting that she should come
+next to your mother instead of me."
+
+"But why should she strike you?"
+
+"Ah! husband!--the child!  They say that it was through my neglect and
+carelessness that the boy came under the influence of the evil eye; it
+was but right therefore that I should be punished."
+
+The bereaved mother poured the story of little Royan's illness and
+death into her husband's ears.  Together the parents wept, stifling
+their grief lest the sound of a sob or a sigh should betray them.
+Little, indeed, had Ananda suspected that as he listened indifferently
+to the wailing his beloved child was passing away from them for ever.
+
+"What will life be without my child or my husband?" cried Dorama at
+last.  "I cannot bear it; I shall die!"
+
+"No, you will not.  Beloved, I am leaving my home to-night to find more
+liberty than I am given here in this cruel town.  Come with me.  Let us
+go together.  Once across the border of the State our rights will be
+respected.  We are of age, free to act as we choose, and no one can
+separate you from me or do either of us any hurt."
+
+"Husband!  I am your obedient wife!"
+
+      *      *      *      *      *
+
+Ananda looked at his watch.  It was half-past two.
+
+"It is time we started, beloved.  Can you walk as far?" he asked
+anxiously as he made his final preparations.
+
+"I can walk the distance easily if my lord will give me time."
+
+"Then let us begin the journey at once.  We will go to the further
+corner of the compound and get over the wall.  Before the sun is up we
+shall be far enough from the town not to fear recognition."
+
+Together they crept across the enclosure, Ananda beating the grass
+softly with his stick at each step, to drive away the chance snake.
+Dorama followed closely.
+
+The wall presented no difficulty; but as Ananda dropped lightly into
+the road he startled a half-starved pariah dog returning to the town
+after its nightly prowl for food.  The dog, more in fear than anger,
+barked wildly at him.  Dorama, alarmed, hesitated to follow.  He threw
+a stone at the animal with the intention of frightening it.  As bad
+luck would have it the stone struck the dog, and though it was not much
+hurt, it shrieked after the manner of the village cur, as if it had
+been nearly killed.
+
+"Wait!" said Ananda to his wife, who had not yet joined him in the
+road.  "Sit down under the wall.  The long grass will hide you."
+
+He watched the house for a few minutes to see if a light moved or if
+there was any indication of an alarm being raised and a search.  If
+Dorama's absence were discovered an immediate hunt would be made, and
+the noise of the dog would give a hint of the direction she had taken.
+
+No sign of any movement was apparent, and Dorama, recovering her nerve,
+climbed the wall and joined him.  They set off at a steady pace.  There
+was no moon; but the stars gave sufficient light to help the travellers
+along the broad, well-kept road.  Dorama's little feet were bare.  They
+fell noiselessly except for the chink of her silver toe-rings.  Ananda
+wore English boots, strong and serviceable; but the warm, sub-tropical
+climate had affected the leather and made them creak.  Possibly it was
+the noise of his tread that drowned the sound of approaching footsteps.
+
+Dorama was the first to hear it.  She stopped and laid her hand on her
+husband's arm.
+
+"What is that?" she asked sharply.
+
+Before he could reply four men running barefooted came up with them
+from behind.  Three of them hurled themselves upon Ananda.  The fourth
+seized Dorama roughly by the arm.
+
+"What madness is this?" cried the voice of their uncle.  "Who gave you
+permission to take away the daughter of the house?" he demanded of
+Ananda.
+
+The only reply of the latter was to struggle violently.  He was soon
+overpowered, and between his three captors he was marched back towards
+his father's house.  Ten minutes later he found himself once more in
+the little outhouse with his empty trunks.  The door was closed upon
+him and its primitive hasp secured with a padlock.  He was without food
+and without his personal property; but his concern was not for himself,
+it was for the weeping and trembling woman who was wrested from him to
+be driven back in unmerited disgrace and perhaps imprisoned like
+himself.  There was nothing to be done but to submit, at least, for the
+present.  He was calm and self-controlled once more now that he was
+alone.  He would wait patiently for developments, relying on the love
+that he knew his parents bore him.  It was impossible to believe that
+they had any intention of doing him personal violence, though they
+might subject him to further humiliation and discomfort.
+
+It was the dog that did the mischief and put Sooba on the track of the
+fugitives.  Dorama's absence was discovered as soon as she was required
+for a ceremony in the death chamber as mother of the dead boy.  A
+search was made through the house, and some one suggested that possibly
+she had gone to the well to put an end to her sorrow for lost husband
+and child.  Another mentioned Ananda.  Could she have sought him in her
+trouble?  After their interview in the presence of the guru it was not
+unlikely.  When his room was found to be empty the belief was confirmed
+that the two were together somewhere, perhaps on the premises, perhaps
+in the forest.
+
+The shriek of the dog betrayed the fact that it had encountered a human
+being and received some hurt.  Its cry was a howl of pain and not of
+anger, as would have been the case had it met one of its own kind.  The
+sharp ears of the man who of all that numerous family did not mourn the
+dead nor the disgraced, caught the sound, and he jumped to a correct
+conclusion.  Further thought pointed to the obvious fact that the
+missing couple would not be likely to take the road leading to the
+town.  In a short time he gathered a band of willing helpers, and, as
+we have seen, the capture was made.
+
+Having disposed of the couple, Sooba called a family council.  Pantulu
+declined to be present, but Gunga attended it.  A decision was arrived
+at that she and her husband should leave the house that afternoon
+immediately after the funeral.  They were to travel by bullock coach to
+one of his silk farms some ten miles distant from Chirapore.  A small
+bungalow occupied by a relative who superintended the silk-worm culture
+would house them for a few days or until--Gunga looked at her
+brother-in-law sadly--until her husband had recovered his health.
+Other matters were discussed with general unanimity as to the course
+that should be taken as soon as Pantulu was removed.  When it was over
+Gunga sought Dorama.  The stern, unyielding woman stood in the centre
+of the room, her daughter-in-law prostrate at her feet.  The younger
+woman trembled as she listened, and when the tale was ended she was
+shaken with sobs.
+
+"Mother! mother!" she wailed.  "Is it necessary?  Must it be?"
+
+The tears stood in Gunga's eyes as she pronounced again the sentence
+passed by the guru on her son and confirmed by the common consent of
+the family.
+
+"Spare him, mother! spare him!" pleaded Dorama.
+
+"He did not spare us his parents, nor his son, whose death he has
+caused.  In a short time we shall carry his father to the arms of
+mother earth, as yesterday we carried the child.  Why should we spare
+him?"
+
+Dorama bowed her head in silence.  She dared not question the
+accusation.  Being a Hindu she was inclined to the belief that
+unconsciously his regard falling on the child as it did might have had
+an evil influence.  Nor could she be blind to the probability that
+Pantulu would die of grief before many weeks were over.
+
+"There must be punishment for you too, daughter," continued Gunga.
+
+Dorama's hands were raised over her bowed head as if to protect herself
+from a shower of blows.  The fear of immediate violence was without
+foundation.  Gunga took no pleasure in inflicting pain.  The task would
+be left to the man whose power in the house was growing more dominant
+each day that passed.
+
+The last rites for the disposal of little Royan's body were performed,
+and the party had returned to the house to watch the departure of the
+master and mistress.  The coach was ready, and the bullock bells
+jangled as the large white beasts shook the flies from their heads and
+stamped a cloven hoof, breathing out heavily through their glistening
+nostrils.
+
+Pantulu, bowed like a man of seventy, left the house by himself and
+climbed into the bullock coach without waiting for his wife.  She
+stayed behind to give the final directions to her women.  As she
+crossed the threshold to the big iron-studded door, Dorama ran forward
+and caught her arm.
+
+"Mother! mother! is it not possible to pass over the offence?  Oh!
+mother!  I cannot bear it!  I cannot bear it!"
+
+Gunga released herself with no light touch from the clinging hand and
+spoke with a roughness that hid her own emotion.
+
+"Go back to your room.  You forget yourself, daughter!  Look at the big
+master!  Is not the sight of his deep sorrow and affliction enough to
+win the consent of every member of his house?"
+
+Dorama's face sought shelter behind her trembling hands, and she began
+to cry piteously like a child.  Her mother-in-law strode on towards the
+bullock coach, her grey head covered with the saree drawn like a hood
+over her forehead till her features were almost hidden.  She did not
+keep strict purdahnasheen, but she was careful not to expose herself to
+the public gaze more than was necessary.  Sooba himself closed the door
+of the coach.
+
+"Farewell, sister," he said in a smooth voice.  "The change will do my
+brother good if anything will; but his spirit is too much broken by his
+many sorrows to give us any hope of his recovery.  It is a matter of
+time only."
+
+"We shall see," replied Gunga sharply, and not best pleased at the
+assurance with which her husband's death was mentioned.
+
+"By the time you return," continued Sooba, unruffled, "we shall have
+better news to tell you of the breaking of an obstinate will."
+
+Gunga turned from him without response.  The motherly instinct in her
+struggled to make its voice heard.  She stifled it ruthlessly.  Yet she
+looked back as the bullocks moved forward with an uneven jerk and said--
+
+"Do nothing but what the swami commanded," she said.  "It will be
+sufficient."
+
+The noise of the wheels prevented further conversation.  Sooba,
+watching the cart as it swayed in its exit through the gateway of the
+compound wall smiled unpleasantly.
+
+"It was just as well that I did not tell her all, or she might have
+refused to leave the house.  Mothers are in the way when troublesome
+sons and daughters require chastisement."
+
+He passed through the centre courtyard towards the back of the
+building.  Dorama, dejected and miserable, her eyelids swollen with
+weeping, stood listlessly near the kitchen door.  His eyes dwelt on her
+jewellery, the gold bangles on her arms, her nose and ear ornaments,
+and a pearl necklace that covered the cord on which was suspended the
+marriage token.
+
+Inside the kitchen the sharp voice of his wife was raised as she issued
+orders to the gang of women employed in cooking the evening meal.  She
+came to the door and caught sight of her husband.  There was an
+exchange of glances between the new self-constituted master and
+mistress.  It was sufficient without speech.  She called to Dorama.
+
+"Come, little sister; enough of grieving!  Go into the kitchen and see
+to the making of the green chutneys.  The girl who is pounding them is
+too stupid to flavour it to your uncle's liking.  Now that the big
+mistress is away I must take her place.  It is a favour to allow you to
+take mine."
+
+Dorama glanced at her through misty eyes.  She did not answer, but
+entered the kitchen and seated herself by the side of the girl who was
+compounding the delicacies known as green chutneys.  The work she had
+been asked to do was light, and she was glad to be employed.  Hitherto
+it had not been thought necessary that she should help with the
+preparation of meals.  The care of the child was considered sufficient
+occupation; but now she was without any charge it was only right that
+she should take her share in the household duties.  She had no
+objection to the labour involved; but she could not help feeling the
+humiliation of the position assigned her.  As wife of the son and heir
+she ranked next to the mistress.  It was she who should be at the head
+of the household giving orders.  It was she who should light the lamp
+at evening and call together the family at daybreak for the morning
+hymn and pujah.  Before Ananda returned, and while the child lived, she
+had looked forward confidently to the time when she should succeed to
+these recognised duties of the mistress of the zenana.  Now the bitter
+truth was thrust upon her; with her husband outcasted and her son dead
+they could never be hers.  Silently she took up the work assigned to
+her, tears dropping occasionally from her sad eyes.
+
+The women in the kitchen glanced at her with a sympathy they dared not
+express.  There was not one among them who would not have preferred to
+see Dorama in her aunt's place.  In view of what the near future
+probably held they deemed it wiser to keep their thoughts to themselves
+and to obey orders without a murmur.
+
+At the evening meal Dorama was made to feel again her subordinate
+position both in serving the men and in being served herself.  But it
+came to an end at last.  When it was finished the green leaf platters
+were thrown out on the refuse heap; the brass pots and dishes were
+rinsed and turned upside down to drain, and the kitchen fires were
+allowed to sink into grey ash.  Many of the women, tired out with a
+night of preparation for the funeral, lay down on their mats, and
+drawing a sheet over their heads, were soon fast asleep.  Two or three
+continued to move about the house, not having completed their duties.
+One by one they too retired, and only Dorama remained awake.  As soon
+as she was assured that her companions were safely asleep she rose and
+opened the door.  Placing it ajar, she seated herself close to it, so
+that she had a view of the central court through the narrow opening.
+Her heart beat like a sledge-hammer.  It seemed to her that it must be
+heard throughout the house.  An hour passed, and still she continued to
+watch and wait with wakeful eye and alert ear.
+
+Between ten and eleven she caught sight of the dark forms of men
+passing silently through the courtyard towards the back verandah.  They
+entered the garden, and turning through the gate in the garden wall,
+went towards the room occupied by Ananda.
+
+Before daring to follow she waited for sign of further movement in the
+men's quarters.  There might be others who out of curiosity, if nothing
+else, would join their superiors uninvited.  All was silent, and she
+concluded that they who intended to visit her husband that night had
+gone to his room.
+
+Gathering her saree closely round her she crept out into the courtyard,
+taking care to close the door of the sleeping-room after her.
+Listening and moving with the utmost caution, she went through the
+garden door and out into the compound.  The stars were bright, and by
+their light she could distinguish the footpath leading direct to the
+little yard where the green gourd flourished.
+
+She hesitated to venture along the track by which the men might return
+at any minute.  Her courage failing her she followed the wall till she
+reached the first corner.  Here she stopped and listened.  Feeling her
+way, she went on till she arrived at a spot outside the yard which she
+calculated was close to the open door of Ananda's room.  The fear of
+snakes was conquered in her intense anxiety to learn what was
+happening, and she crouched low down in the long grass till she was
+hidden from sight.
+
+The position she had chosen was the best for the purpose of overhearing
+all that passed in Ananda's room.  Only twenty-four hours before, she
+had entered it with confidence, and sought for consolation in her
+distress at the loss of her child.  His love and his pity were poured
+out upon her.  His kisses were still warm upon her lips.  She seemed to
+hear the words of joy and love that he breathed in her ear as he held
+her to him.  She thrilled again when she recalled all that he had
+promised of the future that should be theirs, if she would take her
+courage in her hands and come away with him--future love, future
+happiness, future maternity, all might be secured if only she would be
+brave.  In British territory his rights would be recognised--how
+hopefully he spoke!--he could earn enough to keep them both.  She would
+be a happy wife, her own mistress, with no aunt to bully and tyrannise;
+and if the good God willed it, she would also be a happy mother again.
+As he pleaded she forgot his broken caste, his disgrace, his
+excommunication.  A new and great love blossomed out of the old,
+bestowing upon her both courage and faith.  She would go with him--oh,
+so gladly! she whispered.  What had she to live for now but her lord,
+her husband!  The grip of his arms told her how he appreciated her
+devotion.
+
+Then came the sudden ending to their dreams.  That golden future which
+was to begin then and there was shattered; and punishment, dread bodily
+punishment, was to be meted out to the one human being left for her to
+love.
+
+Her train of thought was disturbed by voices.  Her uncle's dominated
+the rest.  It was loud and overbearing, and it seemed to increase in
+acrimony as he talked.  Ananda's replies were given temperately yet
+firmly.  Apparently angry tones and open insults had no power to raise
+fear or wrath.  He presented a firm front, growing, if anything, calmer
+as the other became more excited.  The older man would have found his
+task easier if his nephew had lost his temper, and become abusive and
+violent.
+
+Again and again Sooba demanded recantation.  Each demand was met with a
+firm refusal, given patiently and without faltering.  Threats and
+blustering commands produced no effect, and so far the victory lay with
+the younger man.  That his uncle was fast losing control of himself was
+evident by his lapse now and then into a veritable scream of rage.
+
+After an outburst of this kind more virulent than any that had gone
+before, came a call to his confederates.  Four or five men who were
+waiting outside the door, entered, and Dorama could distinguish that
+some action was taking place.  She divined what it was, though she
+heard no words.  Violence was being done to her husband's person, and
+he had not met it with the calmness that had characterised his speech.
+He had fought for his liberty, and in his struggles he had knocked over
+two of his assailants and his chair.  Five strong men were too many for
+him however; and as the noise and the scuffle subsided, Dorama knew
+that he was secured and bound.
+
+Once more there was silence; it was presently broken by the hectoring
+tones of Sooba.  This time they met with no reply.  The men who had
+helped added their voices and raised an angry chorus of upbraiding and
+reproach.  It died down when their vocabulary of abuse was exhausted.
+This time the silence was so complete that Dorama could hear the
+melancholy cry of a night-bird as it passed overhead on its way to the
+forest-clad slopes of the mountain.  In the distance a jackal howled
+and led the yelping of the prowling pack of night-scavengers.
+
+Suddenly she started and shivered as a sound fell on her ear that she
+had heard before at rare intervals in her life.  It was repeated, and
+she trembled from head to foot, burying her face in her hands.
+
+The Hindus, rich and poor, much as they love litigation over
+boundaries, irrigation rights and the division of property, rarely
+bring family quarrels and offences into court.  In cases of murder the
+law interferes; but where it is only assault in the privacy of the
+family, it is kept strictly private.  The victim and the aggressor
+equally shrink from the public inquiry necessitating the intrusion of
+the police.
+
+Dorama understood perfectly what was happening.  It would have been
+wise if she had returned then and there to her room.  She could do no
+good by stopping, and she ran a risk of being discovered.  But although
+she was aware of what would be discreet and wise, she was unable to
+tear herself away.  It seemed heartless to the beloved one to leave him
+in his dark hour.  She could not bring him consolation, but she could
+suffer with him.
+
+And suffer she assuredly did.  At every recurrence of the dull thud she
+shivered as though she herself had been struck.  Once a low cry escaped
+the lips of the victim, and her nails dug into her breast clawing
+unconsciously her own soft smooth flesh in her agony.
+
+Fifteen minutes passed which seemed fifteen hours.  Surely it was
+enough and more than enough to expiate his sin against the guru and
+against his family.  Now they would stop! they must stop! that horrible
+sound must cease!  But the sentence of the swami was not completed yet,
+and again her ears were assailed by that ominous thud.  He bore it very
+silently.  Had they gagged him? or was he faint, she wondered?
+
+At last a groan came from the sufferer, as though his endurance were
+failing.  It was too much for Dorama.  She felt that she must shriek
+aloud if she remained a moment longer.  She rose to her feet and,
+impelled by a mad desire to help him, she ran to the entrance of the
+yard.  How she was to accomplish her purpose she was not composed
+enough to think.
+
+The door of the room was open.  She hesitated.  Dare she enter and bid
+them stop in their cruel work?  No! no! it would only increase their
+fury, and they would visit her offence upon him.  Perhaps they would
+kill him.  In the light of the yellow oil lamp she caught sight of the
+bamboo as it was once more lifted with slow, deliberate precision.
+
+Putting her fingers in her ears she fled, never stopping until she
+reached the room in which she slept.  Prostrate upon her mat, her saree
+over her mouth to stifle her sobbing, she lay convulsed with grief.
+The women in the room slept heavily.  One of them stirred.  She lifted
+her head, drew aside the sheet that covered her, and listened.
+
+"Is that you, sister?  Poor little mother!  The child is gone, and all
+through that evil husband of yours!  May he be cursed in a thousand
+miserable births!  Lie down, child!  Think no more about him!"
+
+Dorama did not reply.  She subdued her sobs, and listened once more
+with painful alertness for the sound of returning steps through the
+inner courtyard.  They came, and as the men walked slowly back they
+talked in low voices.  It was well for Dorama's peace of mind that she
+could not hear what they said.
+
+"Will he die under it?" asked one.
+
+"Not he!" replied Sooba.  "I took care to use the stick so that it
+neither killed nor broke bones.  Although a Christian has no standing
+in a court of law in the State of Chirakul, there might be trouble with
+the English if he were done to death."
+
+"Where was he going when we caught him?"
+
+"To the missionary," replied Sooba, shortly.
+
+"No fear of his attempting to run away again just yet.  He will not be
+able to stand for a couple of days," remarked one.
+
+"Therefore I did not trouble to lock the door," said another.
+
+"He has starved since last night, and now he has been beaten.  All this
+will surely drive the devil out of him," said a third.
+
+"If not he can have plenty more of the same medicine," rejoined Sooba,
+at which they all laughed in the best of humours.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+Mrs. Hulver was in what she termed "a fine taking," as Eola could see
+with half an eye.  When they met as usual after breakfast to consult
+together on household matters the young mistress inquired what was the
+matter.
+
+"Never mind me, miss," said the housekeeper with resolution.  "I'll
+tell you all about it when we've done the cook and butler business.
+Ramachetty!"
+
+He glided forward instantly, followed by his satellite, the cook; and
+the daily routine followed.  The supplies bought that morning were
+displayed.  How Eola hated the sight of the raw meat and live fowls
+exhibited for her inspection!  The butler's accounts were rendered, and
+what was a more difficult matter, brought into accordance with her own.
+The patient servants received their dismissal; the butler happy in the
+thought that he had succeeded in over-charging his mistress exactly ten
+annas in spite of the eagle eye of the housekeeper; the cook equally
+content in having cheated the butler out of four annas; the cook boy
+pleased with himself in the purloining of an onion, a potato,
+half-a-dozen leaves of the cabbage and as much ghee as an expert finger
+could scoop out of the pot.  Even the kitchen-woman was
+self-congratulatory.  She had substituted a rotten egg for a sound one
+brought from market; adulterated the coffee during the pounding process
+with burnt rice and charred crusts of bread.
+
+"Now tell me what has happened to upset you, Mrs. Hulver," said Eola,
+with a sympathetic kindliness that was one of her charms.
+
+"It's my son, miss.  Last evening the post brought me a letter to say
+that he was ill and was coming by the early mail this morning."
+
+"And he hasn't arrived?" suggested Eola.
+
+"On the contrary, Miss, he has come right enough; but you never saw
+such an object as he is in your life.  Of course I'm his mother, and as
+William--that was my second--used to say: 'Mother's love is the same
+all over the world, whether her child is as beautiful as an angel or as
+ugly as a graven image.'"
+
+"What has happened!"
+
+"It was this way, miss.  Some of the men in the regiment who ought to
+have known better--but as William--that was my third--used to say: 'Age
+won't mend a born fool'--took advantage of my boy's youth and
+innocence.  They enticed him into the canteen and made him drink more
+than was good for him.  He doesn't lean that way, I am glad to be able
+to say with truth; and this will be a lesson to him."
+
+"You haven't told me yet what is the matter," remarked Eola.
+
+"I'm coming to it all in good time.  It appears he was quarrelsome in
+his cups.  That's the odd part about drink, miss; you never know how
+it's going to act on your temperament.  As William--that was my
+third--used to say: 'Liquor is like love, Maria, me dear; some it will
+make joyful, others sad; some will want to be friends with everybody;
+others will fight on the smallest pretence.'  So it was with young
+William; he must needs fight another man in the canteen who was just as
+far gone as himself; and properly punished he was for his pains.  The
+sergeant treated him leniently as it was his first offence; and gave
+him a few days' leave to recover.  The boy is full of sorrow and
+repentance.  He doesn't trouble about his black eye one little bit.
+What he feels is the shame of it.  As William--that was my second--used
+to say: 'Shame cuts deeper than any whip, and the pain we bring on
+ourselves is the hardest of all to bear.'  My boy is feeling the truth
+of his father's saying nicely," concluded Mrs. Hulver, with grim
+satisfaction.
+
+"What was it that provoked the quarrel?"
+
+"William was too far gone in drink to remember much; but he thinks that
+they were all talking about these sufferagette women--I'd make them
+suffer if I was the King!--and the man he fought said something very
+nasty about the sex.  I shouldn't have troubled if I'd been William.
+Just look at the harm the hussies do!  Here's William that knocked
+about and blackened over the eyes that his own father wouldn't know
+him, all through talking about them!  As if God hadn't made my boy dark
+enough in his complexion without their interference!  But as long as
+there are women to love there will be men to fight over them.  As
+William--that was my third--used to say: 'When the Almighty gave ould
+Adam his wife, he handed him the shillelagh and told him to take care
+and use it like a gentleman.  It was only after the devil interfered
+that Adam thought of turning it against the lady herself.'  It was the
+woman that started men to fight and she will keep it up to the finish,"
+concluded Mrs. Hulver, with some heat.
+
+"I am sorry you are so troubled," said Eola.
+
+"And I'm vexed that any of my trouble should be passed on to you.  I
+felt that I must tell you all about it; it wasn't right to keep it from
+you and the master.  I should have come to you last night only I didn't
+see the good of worrying you before the morning.  This morning, of
+course, it's my duty to tell you the truth and to hide nothing.  As
+William, the boy's own father, used to say: 'It's easier in the end to
+face the truth than to back a lie.'"
+
+"You have him in your room, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, miss; on the camp bed.  He has fever as well, through the cold
+water they soused his head in when he got violent.  He will be all
+right in a few days.  I have put a piece of raw beef on his eye and a
+poultice on his jaw.  He won't be able to talk for a day or two, but
+that won't matter.  As William, his father, used to say: 'Many suffer
+through too much talking, but very few through too much silence.'  I
+want you to come and look at him, miss."
+
+"Me!  Oh!  Mrs. Hulver!  I don't think I need come.  I am sure that you
+know what is best for him, and will see that it is done," said Eola,
+not at all in sympathy with the suggestion.
+
+"All the same, miss, I should feel more satisfied if you would glance
+your eye over him," said Mrs. Hulver, in her most determined manner,
+which, as Eola knew by experience, took no denial.  "It will be good
+for him to see how seriously you take it.  As William--that was my
+second--used to say: 'Get your shot in when and how you can; don't wait
+for the enemy to come and ask for it.'  It's just the same with advice
+to the young."
+
+"I am afraid I can't do any good."
+
+"Oh yes, you can, miss; and it isn't you to take a back seat where duty
+calls and you're really wanted.  Of course I know that young soldiers
+are hot-headed, and we can't give them or any one else our experience
+any more than we can give them our digestions.  Experience unbought
+teaches naught.  They've all got to have it like the measles, and it
+seasons them and makes men of them.  As William--that was my
+first--used to say: 'Man is like a curry; he needs a lot of seasoning,
+and it can't be done all in a minute.'"
+
+Eola rose very reluctantly.  Visiting sick soldiers who were suffering
+from their own indiscretions was not at all to her mind.  Mrs. Hulver's
+tongue continued to run on.  She bemoaned her boy's behaviour in one
+breath, and made excuses for him in another, with many quotations from
+the sayings of the defunct Williams.
+
+"The boy had no business to go into the canteen at all; but he's young
+and easily misled.  As William--that was my first--used to say: 'You
+can't roll a good cigar with green leaf.'"
+
+Then as Eola lagged behind, showing increasing disinclination for her
+task, she urged her more strongly.  "Come along, miss, please!  Come
+for my sake and show yourself.  It's for his good.  You need not stay
+long.  Just stand a minute near the bed and say as solemn as you can
+make it: 'William, I'm sorry to see you like this.  Let it be a
+lesson!'  Then you turn and go away quite slowly, and you say to me as
+you leave the room: 'This is very sad, Mrs. Hulver, very sad in one so
+young!' he won't forget it in a hurry you may be sure.  Dear! dear! who
+would have thought it!  As William--that was my third--used to say:
+'Reckless youth makes rueful age.'"
+
+As she talked she led the way to her little sitting-room.  The door was
+open.  At the further end was a camp cot and on it lay huddled the
+unhappy hero of the canteen row.  He still wore his scarlet uniform to
+Eola's relief.  She was dreading lest she should find him tucked up
+like a baby in bed.  The poor fellow had undoubtedly suffered from his
+indiscretion.  His head was tied up with raw beef and poultices, and
+the fever produced a shivering that necessitated the shawl muffled
+round his shoulders.
+
+"A miserable-looking creature for a mother to call son! isn't he, miss?
+As William, his father, used to say: 'Quarrels are like fire, more
+easily started than stopped; and those who get into them usually come
+out burnt.'"
+
+"Poor fellow, I hope he isn't much hurt," murmured Eola, quite
+forgetting her instructions.  She stood about three feet away from the
+bed with as much ease as if she had been inspecting a sleeping cobra.
+
+"Miss Wenaston says she is sorry to see you like this, William," said
+Mrs. Hulver promptly, and in disapproval of Eola's weakness.  "She says
+let it be a lesson to you to keep out of the way of them that want to
+hurt you.  As your father used to say: 'Don't go into action if you can
+help it; but if you have to fight, take the measure of your enemy's
+strength.'"
+
+"You mustn't worry the poor fellow, Mrs. Hulver.  Get him well first
+before you scold him," said Eola, turning away with more haste than she
+had come.
+
+"That's all very well, miss; but as William--that was my third--used to
+say: 'What's the good of trying to beat the dog after you've let him
+loose?'  Young William over there," she turned and looked towards the
+prostrate figure, raising her voice so that nothing should be lost to
+the sick man, "has got to learn his lesson; who it is that he can
+fight, and who he had best leave alone.  As William--that was my
+second--used to say: 'Men are like dogs; and until they have taken the
+measure of their own strength against the strength of others there can
+be no peace for anybody.'  It was good of the sergeant to send him off
+at once to me.  If the commanding officer had seen him in that
+condition there would have been trouble.  William told me last time he
+was here that the colonel was very stiff with all offenders, especially
+in the matter of drink.  Likely as not he has never been drunk himself
+and he doesn't know how easily a man may be overtook when once he gets
+among others in the canteen.  Commanding officers, like artillery
+drivers, differ; one is easy with his team; another will take up every
+fault; but as William--that was my third--used to say: 'A regiment is
+like a team; it doesn't have the choosing of its own C.O. any more than
+a bullock chooses its driver or its road.'"
+
+Eola made her escape at last, and when her brother came in to lunch she
+told him the story of Mrs. Hulver's trouble.  He was not much
+interested, nor had he much sympathy with the foolish young man.  He
+expressed a hope that the worthy woman would not see too much of her
+son.  His second visit had followed very closely on his first.
+
+"After all we mustn't forget that Mrs. Hulver, for all her excellent
+ways, is a Eurasian.  She possesses the family loyalty that marks the
+race, and will never turn her back on any relative while she has a
+shelter to offer, no matter what the character of the individual may
+be."
+
+"I am quite sure," responded Eola warmly, "that she will not allow us
+to be worried or out of pocket, however worried she may be herself."
+
+"All the same there is a strain of the 'soft-hearted old fool' about
+her that must not be disregarded; and she must be protected against
+herself if necessary.  If this boy turns up too often I shall have
+something to say to him.  Did you see the precious young idiot himself?"
+
+"She insisted on it."
+
+"Was he quiet?"
+
+"As quiet as a bad go of fever and a black eye could make him."
+
+"I think I'll have a look at him myself, and if he is fit for it I
+shall give him a bit of a lecture."
+
+"She hasn't spared him herself," remarked Eola.  "He is poulticed with
+beef and bread and admonished with the wise sayings of the three
+Williams continuously.  I wonder how he can take it all so quietly."
+
+"Perhaps I had better defer my lecture if that is so.  Any way I will
+go and see him.  He may as well be aware of the fact that his presence
+here is known to us both."
+
+He went to the door of Mrs. Hulver's sitting-room.  It was open and
+revealed much the same sight as had met Eola's eyes, except that Mrs.
+Hulver was in the midst of dressing the damaged eye.  She held a large
+slice of raw meat in her hand which she was carefully adjusting over
+his temple and cheek, covering his eye altogether.  She turned her head
+at the sound of the master's footstep.
+
+"Is that you, sir?  I'll come directly.  This is nearly finished.  I'm
+changing the beef on young William's eye.  Miss Wenaston told you the
+trouble I am in over this budmash of a boy?"
+
+As she talked she adjusted the wrappings and tucked the shawl round the
+patient's shoulders.  He was lying on his side.  At the sound of the
+Principal's voice he stirred uneasily.
+
+"Now, you keep quiet, William, or you'll fidget the plasters out of
+place.  You have got to be patient.  There's a time for fighting for
+soldiers, and there's a time for keeping quiet, and that time is now."
+
+She came towards Dr. Wenaston, who had stopped on the threshold and
+continued, addressing herself to him instead of her son.
+
+"As William--that was my first--used to say: 'There's a season for
+everything.  Even the bamboo must be cut when the moon is waxing or it
+will be good for nothing.'"
+
+"I am sorry this has occurred, Mrs. Hulver," said the Principal, with a
+seriousness that would have set the pulses of his pupils going, but
+which had no such effect on his housekeeper.  "The hospital would have
+been the best place for him.  He mustn't think that he can run to his
+mother at every bruise and scratch."
+
+"It would have been a case of guardroom not hospital, sir, if it hadn't
+been for the kindness of the sergeant.  As it is his first offence it
+would have been the first step towards destroying his clean sheets; and
+where would have been his chance of promotion if he didn't keep them
+clean?  The licking he has had will do him no harm.  It will teach him
+to keep off drink.  As William--that was my third--used to say: 'When
+beer goes in wisdom goes out.'  You'd like to look at him, sir.  Come
+up to the bed.  He's too ashamed to make a salute, and his head is too
+bad to allow of his sitting up."
+
+Wenaston walked into the room, and like Eola stood for a short time by
+the side of the cot.  He felt that it would be like hitting a man when
+he was down to reproach the sufferer in his present condition.
+
+"I will see him again when he is better and have a talk with him," he
+said.  "You must let me know how he gets on."
+
+"Yes, sir; a serious talking-to will do him no end of good."  She bent
+over the patient and laid her hand on his head.  "You need not shiver,
+William.  The Doctor will treat you kinder than those budmashes treated
+you in the canteen."  She turned to Wenaston again and continued: "Lor!
+sir, how easy fighting comes to men in the army.  It seems like a
+second nature to them."
+
+"It is their profession, Mrs. Hulver," said Wenaston, as he moved
+towards the door.
+
+"That's exactly what William, my third, used to say.  He was an
+Irishman and his blood was soon up.  When I complained one day about
+his being quarrelsome with a neighbour his reply was: 'Maria, me dear,'
+he always began like that--he was such a gentleman--'Maria, me dear;
+it's second nature for soldiers to fight, the same as it is for dogs to
+bark and bite.  That's what the Government keeps us for; and a soldier
+who is worthy of the name doesn't think he is earning his pay without
+it.'  I often used to look at the men loafing round barracks with
+nothing to do, and to think that in times of peace they were like
+chimneys that had no fire in them."
+
+"Quite so! quite so!" said Wenaston, making his way to the door.
+
+Mrs. Hulver followed closely with a continuous stream of remarks, from
+which he strove in vain to escape.
+
+"As soon as ever young William is fit for it I'll send him to you, sir,
+for a good dressing-down.  You must check him for his quick temper.  As
+his own father used to say: 'A hasty man never wants for woe.'  And I
+should be glad if you would point out the danger of drink and how it
+upsets the judgment.  Also you might say a word or two on the folly of
+fighting when the odds are against you.  Don't let him talk.  Fill him
+up with as much good advice as you can get in in the time that you can
+spare for him.  As William--that was my second--used to say: 'If
+counsel is good no matter who gives it.'"
+
+"All right, Mrs. Hulver; I'll do my best," said Wenaston, as he beat a
+hasty retreat towards the college buildings.  The housekeeper's tongue
+had won the day though she might not have known it, and his warning to
+her on softheartedness and the lecture to her son were still
+undelivered.  However, he promised himself that he would interview the
+man later on alone when he was less of an "object," as his mother
+expressed it, and would talk to him seriously.
+
+Mrs. Hulver stood at her door watching the Principal as he hurried
+away.  When he had disappeared she turned back into the room and went
+to the patient.  Leaning tenderly over him she placed her cool soft
+hand on his forehead, slipping it underneath the bandages.
+
+"Cheer up, William; cheer up, sonnie!" she murmured.  "God is where He
+was and He will help you through.  It's no good fretting when grieving
+is no comfort.  As William--that was my third--used to say: 'Things you
+can't avoid are best taken cheerfully.'  No, don't try to speak.
+You've got to be silent till you're well, and I'll see that you're let
+off the master's lecture."
+
+She called to the butler, who appeared immediately followed by the cook
+carrying a saucepan.
+
+"It's all ready, ma'am."
+
+He poured the chicken broth through a strainer into a cup and handed it
+to her.
+
+"That's all right, Ramachetty," she said with approval, as she leaned
+over it.  "That's the kind of stuff that will make my boy well.  You
+can go.  Shut the door after you.  I don't wish my son to catch cold.
+Tell the sweeper woman to sit outside the bathroom.  I shall want her
+later on to boil the kettle for fresh poultices."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+On the afternoon of the same day Wenaston and his sister were at tea in
+the verandah when a carriage drove up and stopped just beyond the
+portico.  Out of it stepped Sooba, Pantulu's brother.  He was unknown
+to the Principal, who took him for the parent of one of his pupils.
+Wenaston rose at once, always courteous, although at times a little
+stiff until he was certain that no favours were going to be asked.  Too
+often the visiting parent, after beating about the bush, would beg the
+Principal to promote his son in the school without due justification.
+Sometimes a bribe was offered.  It required a great deal of patience
+and self-control to deal with such people; and it was still more
+difficult to persuade them that promotion by favour did not advance the
+education of a boy but rather hindered it.
+
+"You want to see me on business?" asked Wenaston, advancing to meet his
+visitor.  "Come in; I am disengaged for ten minutes, which is all I can
+give you.  At the end of that time I have an appointment in the
+college."
+
+"I have called to ask you a favour, sir," said Sooba, in his best
+manner.
+
+"You are the parent of one of my pupils?"
+
+"I am sorry to have to admit the fact that I have no son.  It is about
+my nephew, Pantulu Iyer's son, Ananda, that I have come.  You engaged
+him as a master a short time ago.  He stayed only one day."
+
+"Ah! now I understand.  I can't take him on the staff again, if that is
+what you have come to ask."
+
+"You are right, sir; it would be a mistake.  He is unpopular in the
+town."
+
+"We have no time to lose," said Dr. Wenaston, looking at his watch.
+"Will you explain what you want me to do?"
+
+They were standing in the verandah facing each other.  Sooba shuffled
+his feet slightly.  The action said much to the Englishman and put him
+on his guard.
+
+"Last night Ananda left his father's house and we don't know where he
+is."
+
+"Is there any reason why he should not leave Chirapore if he wishes to
+do so?"
+
+"It would be without his father's consent," said Sooba, boldly making
+use of his brother's name.
+
+Wenaston was slightly puzzled.  Ananda's movements were not his affair.
+
+"What do you want me to do?" he again asked, with a touch of impatience
+this time.
+
+"I thought that perhaps you might give us some assistance in our
+search."
+
+The Englishman regarded him with surprise as he answered in quick
+decisive tones.
+
+"I am afraid I cannot do anything of the kind.  I am too busy to spare
+the time.  Besides, Ananda's movements really do not concern me or the
+college."
+
+"It was not my intention to ask you to leave your duties, sir."
+
+"Then how can I help in the search for the lost man?  He has probably
+left the town, where as you yourself say he is unpopular.  Under the
+circumstances it is the best thing that he can do.  Have you inquired
+at the station if he were among the passengers who were travelling by
+the mails last night?"
+
+"He can't have taken either of the trains, north or south, as he was
+seen in his room after their departure."
+
+"Have you any suspicion where he can have gone?" asked Wenaston, trying
+to get at what was at the back of his visitor's mind.
+
+There was a definite pause before the reply was given.
+
+"We have reason to think, sir, that Ananda is here."
+
+"Here!" repeated Wenaston, astounded and not altogether pleased. "I
+don't understand what you mean; what grounds you have for saying so.
+Have you thoroughly searched his father's house?"
+
+"We have hunted everywhere."
+
+"And why do you think he is here?"
+
+Sooba was unable to explain fully; there were too many facts that had
+to be suppressed.  One was the physical inability of the unfortunate
+man to go far afield in his crippled condition.  The college was the
+only place within possible reach where the fugitive might have found a
+refuge.  Sooba had no reliable information to go upon; he was acting on
+a suspicion arrived at by an exhaustive line of argument.  It was
+unlikely that Bopaul's people would offer an asylum; they would
+hesitate to do anything that might cause a breach between the two
+families.  Bopaul himself might befriend him--if he could see his way
+to do it without giving offence.  As for the rest of the town not a
+soul throughout would lift a finger to help an apostate to Hinduism, a
+man of broken caste who refused the restitution rites, an outlaw and
+outcaste deprived of all civil rights.
+
+"You were so kind as to allow him to come here before, sir," said Sooba
+smoothly.  "We thought that he would be sure to come to you again."
+
+"Then you are wrong," replied Wenaston brusquely.
+
+He did not like the manner of his visitor in spite of the careful
+deference put on with a little too much show, and he resented his too
+ready assumption that the college would, after all that had passed
+during the temporary mastership, offer a shelter and again receive the
+'vert.  It is due to Wenaston to say that he had no suspicion that
+Ananda had been badly treated.  Had it entered his head that there was
+any possibility of his being injured by assault, he would have appealed
+to the higher authorities of the State who would undoubtedly have
+interfered to protect him.  The verdict of outlawry was another matter.
+
+"How can I assure Pantulu Iyer that his son is not here, sir?" asked
+Sooba in humble anxiety.
+
+"You have my word for it."
+
+"As far as your knowledge goes, sir, I would not for a moment doubt it.
+I venture to suggest that he may be in hiding on the premises without
+your knowledge."
+
+The school-bell rang and Dr. Wenaston made a movement.
+
+"I must go; and as for you, search the place if you like, college
+buildings, house and compound.  I am positive that you will not find
+him.  Look everywhere while you are about it, for you don't come here a
+second time.  You can go."
+
+Wenaston'a manner jarred; it was not what Sooba had anticipated.  He
+had assured himself that the accusation of harbouring Ananda would have
+troubled the Principal; and that he would have exhibited anxiety to
+clear himself of the charge and show that it was not true.  Sooba's
+experience of the ways of Englishmen was extremely limited, and he
+found that he was mistaken.  To be treated in this contemptuous way was
+galling, and roused his spite.  If the fugitive should happen to be
+discovered on Wenaston's premises, he promised himself that he would
+make it hot for the Englishman, and create a rupture between him and
+the governing body of the college.  At the command to go there was
+nothing for it but to beat a retreat.  He directed his steps towards
+the class rooms where he intended to begin his search.
+
+"Do you really mean to allow him to go through the house?" asked Eola,
+who had listened in silence to the conversation.
+
+"Certainly; Ramachetty!"  The butler came at once at his master's call,
+so quickly that Eola smiled, in spite of her annoyance.  The gist of
+what Sooba had said had been overheard by others besides herself.  "One
+of Pantulu Iyer's people----" he checked himself to ask a question--"Do
+you know who he is?"
+
+"His brother, sir."
+
+"His brother, is he?  He believes that his nephew Ananda is hidden
+somewhere on the premises.  I have given him permission to search every
+corner of the class rooms and the house.  You are to accompany him all
+through and show him the servants' go-downs and the stables and garage."
+
+"Is he to go through your rooms as well, sir?"
+
+"Yes; and Miss Wenaston's and Mrs. Hulver's."  He returned to Eola,
+upon whose face was a most unusual frown.  "I shall have something to
+say to the Dewan about this visit."
+
+"It is outrageous; and you would be quite justified in refusing to
+allow him to enter a single room."
+
+"I don't like it any more than you do; but I think it politic to
+consent.  What he believes, he can make the boys believe.  I wish to
+avoid a recurrence of the boycotting."
+
+"I shall go out for a drive," said Eola.
+
+"The best thing you can do," replied the harassed man heartily.
+
+Wenaston returned to his class room in the nearest approach to a rage
+that was possible for a man with so even a temperament.  Sooba took
+care to avoid further encounter; and before the Principal reached his
+own lecture-room the search through that apartment had been completed.
+It offered no cover whatever with its bare table and desks.  A runaway
+rat could not have hidden itself.  As for a man or even a boy, the
+first glance round would have revealed him.
+
+The hunt through the college buildings lasted nearly an hour.  A little
+after five Sooba presented himself, at the house.  The butler was
+waiting for him; but being a pariah he was not at all to the taste of
+the searcher.  Sooba waived him aside with all the loathing and
+contempt shown to a man of no caste.  Ramachetty had received his
+directions, however, and did not budge.  He begged to inform his
+excellency, the visitor, that he dared not disobey his master's orders;
+whether his honourable excellency liked it or not he must accompany
+him.  After this there was nothing more to be said, and the searcher
+began his work, leaving the butler to follow at a respectful distance.
+
+It was with much curiosity that Sooba entered each room of the
+Englishman's private dwelling.  Never before had he been inside a
+European's house.  He peered under tables and chairs and looked behind
+curtains.  The piano puzzled him, and he was not satisfied till
+Ramachetty had removed the front and exposed the strange wired interior
+that gave shelter to nothing larger than a mouse or a scorpion.  Eola's
+rooms were also examined and drawn blank.  There remained only Mrs.
+Hulver's.
+
+"The housekeeper's rooms only are left for your honour's eye.  Is it
+your excellency's wish to see them also?" asked Ramachetty.
+
+"Decidedly; the master gave permission for me to search every corner."
+
+"The housekeeper will not like it."
+
+"Who cares what she likes or dislikes?  She is his servant and must
+obey his orders."
+
+The butler knew his position better than to smile.  He cast down his
+eyes demurely in case a twinkle of amusement should betray him.
+
+"Her son is with her.  He is a soldier inclined to violence.  Your
+honour must not be angry with this slave if the soldier fights."
+
+The inquisitive visitor hesitated.  The British soldier in the present
+day in India inherits a character that has been deeply impressed upon
+the native mind by his predecessors.  It is not a character for
+gentleness.  But the hesitation did not last long; the spirit of prying
+gained the day.
+
+"I am not afraid of a soldier.  If he is violent his colonel will have
+him punished," said Sooba, as he swaggered boldly up to the door of
+Mrs. Hulver's room.
+
+It stood open; apparently she had had notice of what she might expect,
+for he found himself confronted by the ample figure of the wrathful
+woman, who understood even better than her employers the great liberty
+that was being taken.  She glared at him with as much fire as her grey
+eyes were capable of showing, and pretended not to know who he was nor
+what he wanted.
+
+"Who are you, and what business have you got in my back verandah?" she
+asked unceremoniously, making use of the vernacular in such terms as
+she would have addressed one of the gardeners.  "I've got nothing for
+you."
+
+Sooba returned an angry glance.  He understood the insult, but had no
+means of making her smart for it.
+
+"I have come by permission of the master of the house, the honourable
+Principal of the College, to look for a relative who is lost," he
+replied, with as much dignity as he could muster to his aid.
+
+"Do you suppose I have him in my pocket?"
+
+"No, woman; but I have reason to believe that he is hiding somewhere on
+these premises, and I will not leave until I have thoroughly searched
+them."
+
+"Search away, then, and be quick about it.  See for yourself who is
+here.  I am not going to help you if you can't take my word for it."
+
+She turned her back on him and moved into the middle of the room.  As
+he did not follow immediately she called impatiently over her shoulder.
+
+"Come along!  Don't stand there all the evening.  What are you waiting
+for?"
+
+His eyes were fixed with some anxiety on the figure extended upon the
+bed and a woman close by who was preparing to make a fresh poultice.
+She held a kettle of hot water in her hand.
+
+"That's my son, William, a soldier on leave from Bangalore," remarked
+Mrs. Hulver, half turning to him again.  "His father was a soldier and
+he takes after him--short in the temper and strong in the arm.  You
+need not be afraid of him.  He's just recovering from a canteen fight
+in which he made a man bigger than himself--a regular giant--swallow
+all his front teeth; and they were his own, too."
+
+There was a ring of unconscious pride in the mother's voice as she
+exaggerated her son's exploits.
+
+"I am not afraid of the soldier, woman," replied Sooba.  "The law
+protects me from violence.  What I object to is the presence of that
+sweeper by his cot.  She is a pariah and her presence is defiling to
+one of my caste."
+
+"Oh! is it?  All the same she is my servant and she is there by my
+orders and there she will stay."
+
+The woman glanced at him with fear, and showed a disposition to abandon
+her work and retire in spite of "orders."  Mrs. Hulver detected the
+weakness.  She picked up the sweeper's broom that was lying near and
+pointed with it to the basin containing the bread.
+
+"You stay where you are till I give you leave to go.  Pour the hot
+water on to the bread.  Wring out those cloths and get them ready for
+the poultice.  As soon as I've seen this man through my rooms I'll take
+the beef off my son's eye and bandage it with wet rags."
+
+The visitor stepped gingerly into the room, sidling away from the
+untouchable, and began to look round.  Mrs. Hulver took no notice of
+him.  Her attention was devoted to her son.  She leaned over him,
+patting his pillow and touching the shawl in her solicitude for his
+comfort.
+
+"You lie quiet, William," she said in English, "and don't you mind the
+visitor.  You've got to get well in time to join your regiment at the
+end of your leave or there'll be more trouble.  You must be patient.
+As William, your father, used to say: 'Time and patience will carry a
+man through the roughest day.'"
+
+She loosened the bandages slightly and removed a large slice of raw
+beef which she contemplated with broad satisfaction as it lay on the
+palm of her hand.
+
+"That's done its work and taken down the swelling.  I wish it had taken
+out the colour as well.  We'll see what cold water will do for you
+next, with a little vinegar added."  She turned to the intruder and
+addressed him in his own tongue, although he knew English better than
+Ramachetty the butler.  "Well! why don't you get on with your hunt for
+your lost cousin?"
+
+She drifted towards the door by which he had entered, carrying the
+broom in one hand and the beef in the other.  Disgust and horror were
+written on the face of the Hindu as he eyed the two loathsome objects,
+and he slipped further away moving up the room.  Whether unconsciously
+or with deep design she had cut off his retreat completely, and there
+was no chance of retiring if he wished to keep his distance from the
+two caste-contaminating objects.
+
+"I can't have you here all day," she cried, irritably.  "Come! begin
+your search.  Go and look under that table."
+
+She flourished the broom in the direction of a table covered with a
+cloth of gaudy colours where she sat to write the menus for the
+master's dinner.  He hesitated, his zeal had evaporated; and the object
+of his domiciliary visit was almost lost sight of in the contemplation
+of the sweeper's broom and the flesh of the sacred cow.
+
+"Come! get on!" continued Mrs. Hulver, moving towards him.  "I want to
+clear the room of strangers.  It's not good for the sick man.  My son
+is not so bad but what he can get up if he chooses and turn you out.
+Go and look under his bed.  That's your next place.  Dearie me!" she
+said, lapsing into English again.  "It seems as if this coolie expected
+me to do his work!  He began with impudence, but if he doesn't take
+care he'll end with something else.  As William--that was my
+third--used to say: 'Dine on sauciness and you'll sup on sorrow.'"
+
+She took a step or two forward in the direction of her visitor.  He
+retreated, carefully gauging the distance between his own precious
+person and the various untouchable objects he had unwittingly
+approached.  The information that the hero of the canteen fight was
+able to rise from his bed if he chose and act the part of chucker-out
+was not reassuring.  He was allowed no time for reflection.
+
+"Go and look under the bed next.  Lift the blanket that hangs down,"
+she said to the sweeper.  "Let the gentleman see that we haven't got
+his grandmother hidden under my son's bed."
+
+Again she flourished the broom, this time at the woman, and she waived
+the raw beef at the seeker.
+
+"Go on!  Don't be afraid.  William won't hurt you!"
+
+She advanced, and Sooba, more perturbed than he had been for many a
+day, avoided the bed and its attendant sweeper, and backed towards the
+open door of the bedroom, the only available retreat afforded from this
+awful person.  She followed and the hunter became the hunted.  Armed
+with her terrible weapons she drove him from pillar to post, obliging
+him to carry out his inquisition to its last detail, and look into
+holes and corners with eyes that could see nothing but that
+caste-destroying broom and beef.  After chasing him round the bedroom
+she forced him to enter the bathroom, where, in his confusion, he
+knocked over the sweeper's basket; and she kept him there whilst she
+explained that the place contained cover for nothing larger than a frog.
+
+At last she let him go, and he beat an ignominious retreat, grazing his
+shins in his haste against the furniture.  He left the sitting-room at
+a run, closely followed by Mrs. Hulver; and as he passed out of the
+door the slab of raw meat that had relieved the warrior's wounds--flung
+by the hand of the outraged woman--caught him in the small of his back.
+The sweeper's broom, hurled after the beef, rattled on his naked
+calves, inadvertently exposed as, in a hurry, he gathered up his
+flowing muslin cloth.
+
+William's shoulders shook.  The sweeper woman hid her face in her cloth
+and grinned, in fearful doubt lest she was committing blasphemy in
+daring to smile at one of the twice-born.  As for Mrs. Hulver she
+dropped into her capacious cane chair and let herself go.  She rocked
+in helpless laughter, and the lounge creaked in sympathy with her
+movements.
+
+"That was a sight to make you feel better, sonnie!" she said, as soon
+as she could speak.  "The man ran like a bandicoot with its tail cut
+off!  I wish you could have sat up and looked at him, the impudent
+budmash!  He won't forget his visit to the college in a hurry, or my
+name is not Maria Hulver!  I'm glad I wasn't born to run away from a
+bit of beef like that!  He came in so proud and insolent, but he went
+away with a flea in his ear.  As William, your father, used to say:
+'There are many who go out for wool but come back shorn.'  Now we'll
+attend to this eye."
+
+She pulled herself together and rose from her chair.  The poultice made
+by the sweeper was thrown away, though it was still hot.
+
+"That was only to pass the time and keep her there, the finest bogie to
+frighten my lord with that I could have found!  I was glad to see that
+you could laugh with me, Bonnie.  It shows you're mending."
+
+She busied herself over his wounds with soft tender touch.
+
+"Poor boy!  Whichever side the victory lay you didn't get off without
+some hard treatment; but we'll soon get you well."
+
+"How good you are to me--mother!" replied the invalid gratefully.
+
+"That's right.  Don't you forget that I'm your mother.  I would like to
+get your enemy on his bended knees and make him pray for forgiveness
+for knocking you about like this--a man twice your age, too!  Shame on
+him!  But, there! as William--that was my third--said when the sergeant
+locked him up, thinking he was the worse for liquor when he wasn't:
+'Apologies make poor plaster.'  The sergeant was a bit hasty and he
+knew William's ways and leanings.  But he was wrong that time.  William
+wasn't drunk; he was dazed with the sun; and the sergeant apologised
+handsomely."
+
+That evening Wenaston once more interviewed his housekeeper.
+
+"You showed the man who called this afternoon over your rooms, I hope,
+Mrs. Hulver?"
+
+"Yes, sir; I took him all round and let him see everything; he was
+quite satisfied that the person he wanted wasn't here.  He didn't
+mention any names."
+
+"He was looking for his nephew, Ananda, the young man who has become a
+Christian.  He has disappeared, and it was thought that he might have
+taken refuge with us."
+
+"I don't know why he should do that when he has Mr. Alderbury to go
+to," remarked Mrs. Hulver indifferently.
+
+"If by any chance he should appear you must let me know at once."
+
+"Would you refuse to give him shelter?" asked Mrs. Hulver, looking at
+the Doctor with some curiosity.  As he did not reply at once she
+continued: "I should if I were you, sir, if you will excuse my speaking
+out.  There's no telling how these natives might take it if you
+befriended him in any way."
+
+"I shouldn't drive him away if he needed protection, Mrs. Hulver," said
+Wenaston.  "You must understand that as a Christian he has my warmest
+sympathy; and that as far as I am able I will do what I can for him;
+but as I pointed out to you before, I am not a free agent in this
+matter.  If he asks for assistance I will give it by sending him off at
+once to Mr. Alderbury, who is willing to help.  What I must not do is
+to give him shelter in the college buildings or in the house, much as I
+might wish.  We have tried that experiment once and it was a complete
+failure.  Therefore I ask you to come to me immediately if Mr. Ananda
+should present himself."
+
+"Very good, sir.  I don't think he is likely to turn up after the way
+those boys treated him.  I'm sure I have my hands full enough with
+young William without bothering about Mr. Ananda's troubles.  As
+William--that was my third--used to say: 'Keep your eyes on your own
+road and don't worry about the pitfalls of other people.'  You may
+depend upon me for doing the right thing and not decomposing either you
+or Miss Eola."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+Pantulu's brother returned from his domiciliary visit to the College
+filled with a deep and implacable wrath.  He buried it under a
+cheerfulness he was far from feeling.  Since the discovery in the early
+hours of the morning that Ananda had disappeared, the house had been in
+a ferment of unrest.  Again and again had the premises been searched.
+Visits were paid by various members of the family to the town and to
+the houses of acquaintances.  More than once had a call been made at
+Bopaul's and guarded questions put.  The market people who had arrived
+that morning from the country were interrogated; clerks and porters at
+the railway station examined but with no better result.  Help of some
+sort he must have had if he covered any length of distance.  A few
+hundred yards might have been possible but progress would of necessity
+have been slow and painful.
+
+Sooba was greeted on his return with a volley of questions from the men
+of the family.  To all of them he was obliged to confess that he had
+failed signally.
+
+"He is not there; of that I am positive," he repeated over and over
+again.
+
+"If he is not there, where can he be?" asked one in puzzled curiosity.
+
+"He has joined the English missionary," said another.
+
+"How could that be when he was unable to walk or even to stand?"
+inquired a third.
+
+"Some one has befriended him and he has escaped in a passing country
+cart."
+
+"Is it possible that he could have crawled to the jungle unassisted?"
+asked another.
+
+"A search in the forest with village dogs will soon settle that point."
+
+"Why not send some one to the mission house.  It will be easy to
+discover if he has arrived.  Once on British territory he need not hide
+any longer as we cannot touch him there.  He will be lost to us for
+ever, and we must give up all hope of catching him.  It will save
+trouble to know for certain if he is out of our reach."
+
+"Good!" responded Sooba, who felt that he must take refuge in action of
+some kind if only to find relief for his injured feelings.  "I will
+send a runner at once to bring news."
+
+"There is a post office peon who has a bicycle," said one of the
+listeners.  "For a consideration----"
+
+"Let him be called at once," said Sooba.  "He shall ask leave of
+absence on account of his wife's illness----"
+
+"He is not married."
+
+"His brother's, his mother's, any one will do!" replied Sooba,
+impatiently.  "I will give him twenty-five rupees if he can bring us
+the news by this time to-morrow."
+
+The post peon was sent for, and in less than an hour he departed on his
+errand.
+
+The temporary master of the house was in an unhappy frame of mind.  Yet
+he had begun well.  He rose in the morning feeling particularly
+virtuous.  Success, he felt certain, must attend his efforts at
+recalling his nephew to his senses.  All along he had urged a more
+severe treatment.  The parents had been too lenient in drawing the line
+at the infliction of bodily pain.  Even now if it had not been for the
+insult to the swami the mother would not have consented.  Since it was
+the express order of the holy man she could not do otherwise than allow
+things to take their course; but it had been considered advisable to
+keep Pantulu himself in ignorance.
+
+When Sooba had performed his domestic pujah, as became the head of the
+family, he went to Ananda's room.  The disappearance of the late
+occupant was a shock from which he had not recovered; and his visit to
+the Principal's house and the College only served to increase the
+disturbance of his mind.  It was not so much the failure of his search
+as the memory of the indignities to which he had been subjected by the
+woman who ruled the household.  Had the incidents that occurred in the
+housekeeper's room been witnessed by any member of his family or by a
+fellow caste man, they would have been magnified into serious breaches
+necessitating ceremonial purification.  This would have entailed
+expenses which, not being a rich man himself, he would fain avoid.  He
+did his best to school himself into the belief that he was mistaken;
+that in his confusion at finding himself in the presence of an angry
+woman and a sick soldier of admittedly bad temper, he imagined that he
+saw signs of the untouchable.
+
+After some hours of brooding he succeeded in persuading himself that he
+had not been within the prescribed distance of the loathsome objects.
+A little more concentration and he arrived at the comfortable
+conviction that he was altogether deceived by a too vivid imagination
+which had played him false.  His caste had never been in jeopardy for a
+single moment.
+
+The disappearance of Ananda was not so easily dealt with.  The fact
+could not be ignored.  The more he thought over it, the more he came to
+look upon the escape as an insult directed against himself.  He was the
+master of the house in his brother's absence.  It was a piece of gross
+impertinence for any member of the family to leave without permission.
+It was setting at naught his authority and treating him with contempt.
+The more he contemplated the incidents of the last twenty-four hours,
+the greater grew the conviction that there must be a reckoning with
+some one.  Properly speaking it should be Ananda himself, for he was
+the origin of all that had occurred, including the disrespect
+experienced in Dr. Wenaston's house; but his nephew's absence precluded
+any possibility of settling with him in person.
+
+Sooba thereupon turned his attention to Mrs. Hulver.  Was there any
+means of making her feel the weight of his displeasure?  He took the
+trouble to inform himself of her habits and mode of life.  She seldom
+left the house except to go to market in the morning.  As the town
+possessed no English church, Dr. Wenaston held a service for himself
+and a few English people in Chirapore, in a room fitted up as a chapel
+in the Residency.  Thither Mrs. Hulver went on Sundays in the motor.
+To attack her and offer violence in the market would simply mean police
+and imprisonment.  She was never without the faithful Ramachetty, the
+cook, and the kitchen coolie who carried the purchases.  In the motor,
+seated with Miss Wenaston, she was safe from every kind of assault.
+
+Brooding over the mystery of how Ananda escaped, who befriended him,
+and how he, Sooba, was to taste revenge, the evening meal was eaten and
+he retired to his pillow.
+
+The next morning the search was renewed, the seekers going further
+afield into the glades and woods of the mountain.  Woodcutters,
+herdsmen and cultivators were questioned; but not a sign had been found
+of the missing man.  Later in the day the cyclist returned with the
+news that the fugitive was not at the mission station.  Moreover, Mr.
+Alderbury was away on tour out of reach of the railway.  It was
+impossible that Ananda could have joined him on the road.  Even the
+peons carrying letters and supplies were no longer following him up.
+He was trusting to the villages through which he was itinerating to
+sell him milk, butter, eggs and fowls; and it was not known exactly
+where he was.
+
+If Ananda was not in hiding at the College, nor at the mission house,
+nor with the missionary himself where could he be?
+
+This was the question faced by the whole family as they drank their
+morning coffee and ate the freshly-made, unleavened rice cakes.
+
+An elderly woman, experienced in the inner workings of the caste
+families of Chirapore, breathed the word "well."  It was an
+inspiration, and the suggestion was caught up at once.  Undoubtedly it
+was the well.  The premises contained no less than three wells; one for
+the use of the house, deep and containing a never-failing supply of
+pure water; a second near the cattle shed, and a third--more of the
+nature of a pond--used only for the garden.
+
+An examination of the wells followed immediately.  Two hours later the
+household was electrified by the news that Ananda's tweed cap had been
+found in the well near the cattleshed.  The well was deep; means for
+probing its depths were not available.  One of the herdsmen was lowered
+in the leather bucket, and he discovered the cap hanging from a
+protruding root in the masonry of the wall.  He was about to enter the
+water to dive for the body when he caught sight of a snake.  In terror
+he signalled to those above to draw him up at once; and after hearing
+his tale no one could be persuaded to continue the exploration.
+
+Sooba regarded the cap with a grim satisfaction which he took care to
+conceal under an expression of consternation and regret.  If Ananda
+chose to drown himself who could help it?  It was a fitting end to a
+perverse and wicked line of conduct.  He had caused the death of his
+child; the exile of his parents with the probable death of his father;
+and now he would be the cause of further disgrace to the family in the
+introduction of a widow.
+
+He presented himself at the kitchen door where his wife, full of
+importance, was hustling the women through their appointed tasks.  She
+answered his summons at once, and inquired deferentially what it was
+that troubled the master of the house.  The busy hands ceased to pound
+and grind and stir as each person listened open-eyed to the story of
+the search and the discovery of the cap in the well by the cattle-shed.
+
+"He is undoubtedly drowned and in three or four days we shall find his
+body.  This is a terrible calamity for his widow."
+
+His glance passed beyond his wife and rested on the figure of Dorama,
+who stood transfixed with horror at the story just told.  As she met
+his eye, in which, in spite of all his self-restraint, a malicious
+triumph was revealed, she dropped to the ground covering her face with
+her hands and moaned in the bitterness of her heart.
+
+"It will be advisable for us to carry out the ceremonies as soon as
+possible.  They should be completed before my brother returns so that
+he may be saved the additional grief of seeing what can only bring
+before him more vividly all that has gone before."
+
+No need for Dorama to ask what those ceremonies were.  They did not
+concern the body of the dead man but her own person.  She shuddered as
+she crouched before the curry stone on which she was working in the
+preparation of green chutney, the task assigned to her regularly by her
+aunt.
+
+"When shall we perform them?" asked Sooba's wife, her eyes resting upon
+the beautiful gold boss that adorned Dorama's glossy hair.  "It is
+usual to wait ten days from the date of the death."
+
+"This is not a common case.  To us and to his parents Ananda has been
+as good as dead ever since he landed.  There can be no funeral rites
+even when his body is found.  He has died an outcaste, defiled and
+unpurified, and as such he must be buried--not burned--at night with
+shame and dishonour and with no ceremonies.  My brother must not return
+till we have disposed of the dead man and completed the ceremonies of
+widowhood.  They shall take place three days hence which will give us
+time to call together the friends of the family.  You will also have
+time to prepare for their entertainment.  My brother will wish it done
+well and no expense spared."
+
+"And if the body is not found by that time, what then?" asked his wife.
+
+"The rites must be performed all the same.  I, the master of the house
+in my brother's absence, give the order."
+
+He raised his voice although it was not necessary.  It penetrated to
+the very end of the kitchen and not a word was lost to the many pairs
+of listening ears.  If ears were directed towards the acting master of
+the house, eyes found another centre of attraction in the crushed
+figure by the curry-stone.  Pity struggled in their fatalistic minds,
+but in none was it strong enough to cause a stretching out of the hand
+in sympathy, nor to sound the note of consolation or comfort.  There
+was silence as Sooba walked away.  Although his head was bent and his
+features wore a sufficiently solemn expression, he was inwardly
+triumphant and full of satisfaction.  At last he had found an object on
+whom he might be revenged; on whose devoted head he might with safety
+retaliate.  As he had suffered indignity and disrespect, so now she
+should have the same measured out tenfold.  In the absence of the man
+himself it was meet that his wife should feel the weight of his
+displeasure.  The probability of Ananda being still alive was set
+aside.  As he desired so he chose to believe, and on that belief he
+intended to take action with as little delay as was possible.
+
+That afternoon Bopaul with Mayita in attendance, strolled into the
+compound with the intention of looking up Ananda.  Leaving the girl
+under the trees near the wall, where she was partially hidden from
+view--lest the sight of her should prove an offence to the family--he
+turned towards Ananda's room.  The green gourd outside in the little
+yard had produced some shapeless succulent fruit.  It continued to send
+up an abundance of loose yellow cups of flowers to the sun, and though
+there had been very little rain of late the foliage maintained its
+emerald tint.
+
+The door of the room was ajar.  Bopaul called Ananda by name as was his
+wont; but receiving no reply he entered.  The place was deserted.
+Except for the two portmanteaux it was devoid of all sign of the owner.
+Hitherto on the occasion of his visits he had seen books and writing
+material lying about; a coat thrown over a chair; cap and walking-stick
+on the table.  Nothing of the kind was visible, and he wondered what
+had happened.  Had his friend decided to go, and managed to slip away
+after all?  Yet he could not have gone far nor for long; the presence
+of his luggage testified to the fact that he intended to return.
+
+In the midst of his speculations a member of the family arrived
+sauntering in with unconcern.
+
+"You are looking for Ananda.  We saw you come in and guessed that you
+would be here."
+
+"Where is he?" asked Bopaul, in surprise.
+
+"He is dead; drowned in the well near the stable."
+
+Bopaul expressed his consternation and regret, and asked how the
+accident had occurred.  The man laughed unsympathetically, in a manner
+that grated on the feelings of the visitor.
+
+"The wonder is that it has not happened before.  It was not an
+accident.  He threw himself into the well at night when we were all
+asleep.  It was the best way out of the difficulty that he himself had
+created by turning Christian.  It will prevent further trouble and
+vexation, even though it saddles the family with a widow."
+
+"Have the funeral rites been performed?"
+
+"How can an outcaste receive the funeral rites of an orthodox Hindu?"
+the other asked contemptuously.
+
+"He has been burned, then, without them?" said Bopaul, regarding the
+man with increasing displeasure.  He did not like the tone adopted.
+"It is strange we have heard nothing of the affair."
+
+"There has been no burning and no burial for the excellent reason that
+we have not yet recovered the body from the well."
+
+"It has been seen, of course?"
+
+"His cap has been found."
+
+"Have you only his cap as evidence?"
+
+"Isn't that sufficient?  The master considers it ample, and he and his
+wife are already beginning to make preparations for the ceremony of
+breaking the bangles and shaving the widow's head."
+
+"Is that so?  Surely it is full early for the widow rites when the body
+of her husband is still missing?"
+
+"If he were a respectable Hindu, religious and obedient to the law of
+caste, it might be a trifle early; but in this case the man has been
+dead to the family ever since his return from England.  It was a cursed
+day on which his father consented to his crossing the black water.
+Alive or dead the sooner his position is recognised, and his wife
+treated accordingly, the better pleased shall we all be."
+
+"I don't believe Ananda is dead," remarked Bopaul, after a few seconds'
+consideration.  "He is not the man to commit suicide.  It is far more
+likely that he has gone away in the night and has made his escape from
+those who waited for him with no kindly intentions."
+
+"Run away or dead, it is all the same," persisted the other.  "And as
+for his wife she would have become as truculent as himself.  Did you
+hear how she tried to escape with him?  We discovered her absence on
+the night the child died and followed her.  They were brought back
+together; and as a reward for his pains Ananda was beaten by order of
+his uncle."
+
+"Beaten!  Surely his father did not give his consent to such an extreme
+course?"
+
+"The big master was not asked and he knew nothing about it.  He became
+sick after the child's funeral, and he has gone to one of his
+silk-farms ten miles away.  He knows nothing and he cares nothing.  His
+spirit is broken by the wickedness of his son, who deserves all that we
+gave him."
+
+"Possibly Ananda has joined his father," suggested Bopaul, who refused
+absolutely to believe in the theory of suicide.
+
+"Not he!  The stick fell too long and too heavily--for we all took
+turns--to leave him with strength or spirit to run away again.  After
+we had finished with him he could not stand."
+
+Bopaul turned away; he was disgusted with the openly expressed
+brutality of the speaker; and he was profoundly sorry for his friend.
+All along he had feared that something of this kind would occur.  The
+ways of caste families were familiar to him.  His own people would have
+pursued the same course had he become an apostate from Hinduism.  He
+stopped to ask another question.
+
+"You are sure that he was unable to leave the compound after----" he
+paused, unable to frame the expression.  The other understood.
+
+"Quite certain; the man was too sore to put one foot before the other,"
+he replied with a hard laugh.
+
+"How do you suppose he got to the well?"
+
+"On his hands and knees, of course."
+
+"And the widow ceremonies will take place three days hence?"
+
+"Without fail, knowing how set upon the business Sooba is."
+
+Bopaul walked back to his sister deep in thought.  The news troubled
+him.  He was helpless in the matter, and could do nothing.  He wished
+that he had brought more pressure to bear upon his friend when the
+offer came from Alderbury.  That was a golden opportunity missed that
+was not likely to occur again--always supposing that Ananda was still
+alive.  That he was dead, and by his own hand, was impossible of belief
+the longer he considered it.
+
+Mayita was still playing happily enough.  She was in the middle of an
+imaginary wedding.  A datura blossom was the bride and a wood-apple the
+bridegroom; she was playing the part of the go-between, and was
+negociating the dower.  When she saw her brother she hid the happy
+couple in the folds of her rough cloth, whispering to the bridegroom
+that his joy should not be long delayed.
+
+"Come, little one," said Bopaul.  "We must go home to our mother.  You
+will soon have a companion to play with."
+
+"I! who will have the courage to play with a widow in the face of the
+gods?" she asked sadly.
+
+"One who will be in the same sad case as yourself, child."
+
+"Another widow!  I will not play with her!  Is it not enough to have me
+in the house?  We do not want a second widow to double our ill-luck.
+Only this morning the eldest son of our cousin met me by the cowhouse,
+not knowing that my mother had sent me for some milk.  He cursed me;
+but all the same two hours later as he was running through the garden a
+thorn entered his foot and made him lame.  I thought his mother would
+have beaten me; she was so angry; she said it was all my fault.  I hid
+till you called me; I was so frightened, too frightened to eat any
+breakfast; so I am very hungry now.  No! no! brother! we want no more
+widows in our house."
+
+"She will not live with us."
+
+"Who is she?" asked Mayita, her curiosity aroused.
+
+"Ananda's widow."
+
+"Aiyoh!  Is it possible that Ananda is dead!"
+
+"Anyway his wife is a widow and the ceremonies take place three days
+hence."
+
+"Poor Dorama!  Aiyoh! poor Dorama!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+Little news was received from Pantulu Iyer and his wife.  It was
+conjectured that there was none to impart.  If he became decidedly
+worse the family at Chirapore would be duly informed; but if he only
+continued to drift gradually down the hill nothing would be said.
+Sooba and his wife, ever ready to believe as they hoped, made up their
+minds that the head of the house could not last much longer, and that
+the younger brother would soon be called upon to perform those
+ceremonies which should belong to the son, the performance of which
+established the right of the performer to be recognised as head of the
+house.  Could they have glanced at the presumably dying man they would
+have sustained a shock.
+
+Contrary to all expectation Pantulu was improving in health every day.
+He recovered his appetite as well as his strength and spirits with a
+readiness that astonished his wife.  Away from his home and surrounded
+by new interests he shook off the terrible depression caused by his
+son's conversion to Christianity.  A reaction was setting in, enabling
+him to detach his thoughts from the trouble and centre them elsewhere.
+
+The silk farm was one of his early ventures, when, as a young man, he
+had tried with considerable success to improve the culture of
+silk-worms.  The system he introduced answered so well that it was
+generally adopted throughout the silk-growing districts, with the
+result that a finer and stronger silk was produced.  Perfection,
+however, was not attained, and of late years there had been a forward
+movement in the Far East which again placed the silk of Chirakul in the
+background.  The relative in charge of the farm was an enthusiast in
+his way, and he was delighted to find that in Pantulu he had a ready
+and sympathetic listener.  He was quite sure that further improvement
+might be effected in the boiling of the cocoons and the bleaching of
+the silk.  He had made a few experiments himself and he exhibited the
+results with some pride.  Together they pored over the evil-smelling
+stuff that was one day to robe a woman's dainty form, and exhale
+nothing but the atta of rose and sandal-wood with which it should be
+scented.  It was a good strand of silk, but the tint, a dull stain,
+would only take crude strong dyes, that lost their brilliancy and
+purity through the stain.
+
+The manager of the farm had recently been to Bombay where he had met
+some silk growers from China.  Though these men were reticent and
+jealous of imparting their knowledge to foreigners, he managed to
+extract some information and to gather that more might be learned by a
+visit to China and Japan.  Since his return he had made the attempt to
+improve the silk; and though the result left much to be desired, it was
+sufficiently encouraging to show the old expert that the experiment
+should be pursued.
+
+The second day after his arrival Pantulu spent the morning over the
+caldrons; and when summoned to the midday meal he entered the little
+bungalow with a firm, brisk step that bespoke an unusual readiness for
+dinner, and a line of thought that was free from anxiety.  Gunga looked
+up from the steaming pot of rice which she was manipulating and glanced
+at her husband with surprise.  If this was the result of a return to
+work it should not be her fault if the cure was not completed.
+
+Always prompt and unusually practical for a woman of her nation, she
+made a startling proposition that very afternoon.  It was nothing less
+than the despatch of the manager to China and Japan on a tour of
+inspection, that he might examine thoroughly into the methods of
+silk-growing and preparation for the dyers' vat.  She suggested that
+Pantulu himself should manage the farm during his absence.  The
+cousin's wife and family were to remain on the estate and keep house as
+usual.  Every now and then Gunga would go over to Chirapore and see
+that all was going well.  Meanwhile Sooba and his wife would represent
+the head of the family and look after the business in the town.
+
+The proposal was received by the two men with approval.  Pantulu's eyes
+grew bright as he considered the plan; and at her question as to
+whether he felt strong enough for the work that it would involve, he
+drew himself up to his full height and assured her that it would make a
+new creature of him.  The change of air had already wrought wonders and
+she must not look upon him as an old man past all business.
+
+"My brother will be surprised when he hears the news," remarked Pantulu
+with a new pride in his rejuvenation.
+
+"This is not to be spoken of at present," said Gunga with authority.
+"I have other plans connected with it, and until they are more forward
+I wish for secrecy; for I will have no interference; none!"
+
+Her lips closed firmly, and Pantulu knew of old that when his wife was
+determined on any course of action nothing moved her from her course.
+
+"What are they, wife?" he asked, with a smile of amusement.  "May we of
+this house be told?"
+
+"If you can keep your tongues quiet.  Our cousin's wife, here, is a
+Mahratta woman who knows Bombay.  She has suggested that we should send
+our son there to act as agent for the sale of our produce.  She says
+that though he is lost to our religion, he need not be lost to the
+family business.  Many people of caste in Bombay have joined the Brahmo
+Somaj and the Arya Somaj and a few have become Christians.  With all
+these changes before their eyes the people of Bombay feel less
+bitterness towards the men who take up a new faith than those of a
+state like Chirapore; and there is no persecution.  The English
+Government protects them all."
+
+Pantulu did not reply immediately, and Gunga continued to unfold plans
+that were to include the obstinate son and a compromise.  She paused to
+take breath and he spoke.
+
+"The difficulty over the shraddah ceremonies will still remain, the
+rites by which my ancestors and I may escape the lower rebirths."
+
+Gunga looked at him and pursed up her lips as though she had by no
+means exhausted her resources.
+
+"Our cousin's wife has proposed a remedy for that."
+
+He glanced at her with questioning eyes that showed how near to his
+heart the subject and consequent anxiety lay.  Before he could frame
+the query as to ways and means she continued.
+
+"The time has not arrived yet to talk about it.  First and foremost,
+husband, you are the chief consideration.  You must get well and
+strong.  For that purpose there is nothing like work and food and
+change of air, as I have told you more than once.  Here you will have
+all that is necessary."
+
+"What shall we tell my brother?"
+
+"Leave that to me.  I will dictate a letter saying that it will be
+advisable for you to remain here, and praying him to look well after
+your interests at Chirapore.  When I go back, which I shall do before
+long, I will explain more."
+
+Pantulu was well content to leave everything in his wife's hands.  The
+new venture had taken hold of his mind, and it dominated every other
+consideration.  At the bottom of it lay money; and though his wealth
+was great already, "Gold" had a reviving effect upon the man, as the
+word "rats" had upon the sick terrier.
+
+On the day appointed for the ceremonies to take place, which were to
+brand Ananda's wife with the curse of Hindu widowhood, a large party
+assembled at Pantulu's family mansion in Chirapore.  Relatives
+accompanied by relatives arrived from all parts of the State.  Gossip
+circulated freely.  News was given and demanded; and many were the
+questions asked concerning the absent master and mistress.  Sooba was
+ready with his tale, adorned and coloured according to his imagination
+without much regard to the truth.  Gunga's letter had been received;
+and as she made no allusion to her husband's health it seemed safe to
+assume that there was no improvement.
+
+"My sister-in-law asks me to consider myself the head of the house as
+long as my brother is absent.  She says that it is best for him to
+remain where he is; it will give him a better chance of recovery," he
+said.
+
+"Then there is hope that he may get well?" asked one of the guests.
+
+"She may have hope herself; we do not entertain much.  It is more than
+likely that he is too sick to move."
+
+"How long do you think he will last?" enquired another.
+
+"A few weeks at the outside," replied Sooba.  "The news of the
+disappearance of his son will probably hasten his end."
+
+"Has it been sent yet?"
+
+"Not yet; we are waiting till this ceremony is finished.  It would be
+very bad for him if he insisted on returning for it; so we have thought
+it best to get it all over before mentioning anything."
+
+It was very gratifying to be treated as the master of the house.  Sooba
+revelled in the situation, and swaggered about among his guests as if
+he already owned his brother's wealth.  It all helped to sooth the
+wounded self-esteem; and to soften the memory of the insults he had
+received at the hands of Mrs. Hulver.
+
+The afternoon had been chosen for the ceremony; but ever since daybreak
+active preparations had been in progress.  The victim had undergone
+ceremonial ablutions; her hair had been combed and oiled and her whole
+person scented.  The long glossy strands of hair were plaited and in
+the plaits were woven white jasmine blossoms.  Gold ornaments freshly
+burnished were fastened on her head and in her ears and nostrils.
+
+A close-fitting jacket of crimson satin and a rich tawny silk saree the
+colour of wall-flowers enfolded her figure.  Round her neck hung four
+beautiful necklaces of pearl and gold and precious stones, all of which
+had adorned Gunga on her wedding day many years ago.  Ankles and wrists
+were laden, and Dorama's slender fingers were filled to the first joint
+with rings that were heirlooms.  Her forehead was rubbed with sweet
+sandalwood paste, her lips touched with rouge, and the beautiful brown
+eyes intensified in size by dark touches beneath them.  They needed no
+pungent juices to make them bright.  The unshed tears were sufficient
+to keep them moist.
+
+The assembled guests had had time to dine and afterwards to talk over
+all the news.  Many had paid a visit to the well down which they
+glanced morbidly at the root where the cap was found hanging.  By half
+past three the waiting began to grow irksome, and enquiries were made
+for the widow.  She was coming! they were told.  It had taken long to
+fasten all the jewels.  There were so many! not one worn on the wedding
+day was missing; and in addition she wore others that were purchased
+for her when her son was born.
+
+The mention of little Royan was the signal for sighs and lamentations.
+They were interrupted by the appearance of Dorama led by her aunt.
+Dressed as when she was given to her husband she stood before them, her
+eyes downcast and brimming with tears, her delicate fingers plucking
+nervously at the folds of her saree.
+
+At the sight of her the women burst into open wailing.  Some of them
+pressed forward and cracked the joints of their knuckles over her head
+as though they would still try to avert her hideous fate.  Others
+kissed her cheek and hair, her soft arms, even the gold embroidered
+edge of her saree.  Tears flowed freely; the sight of the grief of
+others opened the fountain of her own sorrow, and Dorama wept with them.
+
+It was a pathetic sight; the girl dressed in bridal array for the last
+time in her young life, and the sympathetic company bewailing her fate.
+
+A golden ray of the afternoon sun shot slanting downwards into the
+courtyard and caught the gleaming jewellery, reddening the rich tint of
+her silk garment, and warming the lights in the precious metal.  Here a
+crimson ruby sent out a shaft of fire; there a green emerald and blue
+sapphire set in gold completed the rainbow colours.
+
+The company revelled in the luxury of grief and prolonged the
+leave-taking, repeating over and over again their sorrow and regret
+that the gods had dealt thus hardly with her.  Then as the sun drew
+down towards the west, she was led by her uncle and aunt through the
+little yard and into Ananda's room.  The company followed, and the
+space was quickly filled with the throng of sightseers still wailing
+and weeping without restraint.  The green foliage of the gourd was
+trodden down; its fruit and yellow blossoms were crushed under careless
+feet as the crowd pressed forward to see the degrading rites that were
+to be carried out by the two relatives who had constituted themselves
+master and mistress of the ceremonies.
+
+First the jewels were removed.  One by one they were unclasped and
+handed to members of the family to be held in safe keeping till they
+could be restored to the jewel chest.  Every woman rich or poor wears a
+few dark bangles of glass.  Among the golden circlets on her arms
+Dorama had three or four such rings on each wrist.  With every movement
+the bangles clinked musically as they fell against the gold bracelets.
+Armed with a stone her aunt seized her by the hand and struck the
+brittle glass sharply.  At the sound of the blows the wail of grief was
+again raised.  This was the first act in the tragedy.
+
+Denuded of all her adornments she was next disrobed.  The coloured
+jacket was removed; the silk saree unwound from her limbs.  A coarse
+rough cloth of unbleached cotton was produced and twisted round her
+figure.  Widowhood permitted but one garment; nevermore would she be
+allowed to wear jacket or petticoat or any soft material that might
+protect her sensitive skin from the rough web of the cotton saree.
+This was the second act.
+
+The third, by far the worst part of the ordeal, was still to come.  Her
+abundant hair was unplaited slowly and the sweet jasmine blossoms that
+had been woven into it dropped upon the ground at her feet, where they
+lay all unheeded, contaminated and cursed by the touch of the widow.
+Again the women crowded closely, some of them lifting the tresses to
+their lips, with lamentations that one so young and beautiful should
+meet with such misfortune.
+
+In the light of the sunset glow the scissors shone as the hand of the
+barber woman was raised to perform her share of the ceremony.  The hair
+that reached far below Dorama's waist was gathered in none too gentle a
+grip and severed close against the head.  Not content with this, custom
+demanded the use of the razor.  As the sunlight faded behind the purple
+mountain, Dorama's head was disfigured beyond recognition.  A fresh cry
+of grief rose from the assembled crowd, as they stared with growing
+repulsion at the sight.  The only dry eyes were those of the temporary
+master of the house and his wife.
+
+One more ceremony remained to be performed.  This was the severing of
+the marriage cord on which the badge corresponding with the European
+woman's wedding ring hung, Dorama felt the cord press against the back
+of her neck as her aunt drew it tight the better to divide it.  As it
+parted the tension relaxed and the gold badge dropped into the hand
+extended by her uncle to receive it.
+
+With a despairing cry Dorama fell upon her knees, and leaning forward
+touched the ground with her forehead as if in resignation to the will
+of the gods.  Round her lay the scattered jasmine blossoms that had
+dropped from her hair.  In their death they exhaled their sweetness on
+the evening air.  They were no longer the adornment of the bride but
+the offering to one who was to suffer a living death.  Nevermore would
+the sight of the wax-white flowers remind her of a happy expectant
+bridegroom.  Thenceforth they would speak only of death and misery.
+
+It is strange how the Hindu who is extravagant in his grief, piles up
+pain and sorrow for poor suffering humanity.  As if the gods had not
+brought sufficient wretchedness on the unhappy wife by the loss of her
+husband, he devises in his inhuman ingenuity this barbarous method of
+enhancing the sorrow that is already almost too great for endurance.
+When the girl is dressed up for the last time and appears before the
+assembly she is greeted with profound pity.  As the ceremonies proceed
+that pity gradually emerges into loathing and contempt.  The woman
+herself with all her sweetness and gentleness is forgotten, and her
+widowhood only is remembered.  She enters upon an existence that is
+absolutely without a relieving ray of hope.  She is often the drudge of
+the house; she has no rights moral or otherwise; and she is at the
+mercy of the most tyrannical woman of the household and the most
+licentious man.  Her only chance of escape is in death; but even death
+has no promise of greater happiness.  Her rebirth on earth will,
+according to her faith, only plunge her in deeper misery and
+degradation.
+
+How such an appalling custom can have arisen out of the past ages it is
+difficult to say; and it is still more puzzling to understand why it is
+maintained among a people who are neither savage nor uncivilized.  No
+other nation has anything to offer that is its equivalent in refined
+and far-reaching cruelty.  Never a day passes but the rites are
+performed somewhere throughout the length and breadth of India.  Never
+a night goes by that does not see some stricken girl or woman
+grovelling on the floor of her chamber in abject misery alone and
+uncomforted.  Too often the misery is ended by a catastrophe, a rush
+towards the well; a plunge and then stillness.
+
+And what then?  Does any one care?  Not in the least.  Even the mother
+of the girl sheds no tear and makes no lamentation.  The house is
+relieved of the presence of the ill-starred widow, a certain source of
+misfortune, and her removal is a blessing for which the gods are
+thanked.
+
+One by one the company drifted away, some to depart at once for their
+homes, others to indulge in fragments of gossip in the back verandah.
+The place was empty at last of all save the prostrate figure lying
+among the jasmine blossoms in the room where, only a few nights ago,
+she had crept into the arms of a loving husband.  The gourd was crushed
+and trampled to death in the yard; the glory of its green leaves and
+yellow cups was as ruthlessly destroyed as her own crown of womanhood.
+
+A cicala in the grass outside began his evening note of challenge.  It
+was answered by the metallic defiance of a rival.  A pair of little
+flycatchers slipped into their roosting place in the oleander bush at
+the entrance, with complaining chirrups at having been kept up so late
+by the invasion of the yard.  A pale, yellow moth fluttered like a
+ghost over the jasmine flowers, puzzled at its inability to draw honey
+from what had been done to death.  The hum of the town, busy with its
+evening trading, came faintly through the stillness of the air and died
+down again; and the peace of approaching night dropped softly on the
+earth.
+
+Not one of that numerous family gave a second thought to the stricken
+woman whom they had left.  Not a soul returned to offer consolation.
+Their actions faithfully indicated their minds.  No one cared what
+became of the widow; no one heeded her steps.  Under her ban she was
+free to come and go as she chose.  From thenceforth she need have no
+fear of lock and key; unless it might be for the purpose of keeping her
+out of sight of her more fortunate fellows.
+
+In earlier days Dorama had wondered how Mayita had been able to bear
+the fate that had overtaken her.  She recalled the fact that she had
+herself shrunk from the baldheaded child, and avoided a meeting without
+any attempt at disguising her action.  And now she was in exactly the
+same case herself! ah! she could not bear it.  It was intolerable; a
+moan broke from her lips as the reality of the present separated itself
+from the shadows of the past.  She writhed in rebellion against her
+fate, and as she did so she felt the iron of the inevitable enter her
+soul.
+
+It was unbearable.  She could not face it!  Cost what it might she must
+escape!
+
+There was but one way.  She knew it, as she had heard it spoken of when
+other women suffered the same fate.  Yes: they were right.  Death was
+preferable to life under such conditions.  Her beloved husband had
+sought for death in the well.  If she ran quickly, and hurled herself
+over the low wall before she had time to look into the black cold
+depths, she could find courage enough to carry out the design without
+faltering.  It would be best too for the house, and relieve it of the
+disastrous presence of a widow.  Royan was gone; Ananda was gone; it
+was only fitting that she should go too.
+
+She rose to her feet determined to act at once before her courage
+failed her.  She turned and staggered blindly to the entrance that
+admitted the faint starlight of the night.  As her foot crossed the
+threshold she felt a pair of small arms thrown around her.
+
+"Dorama! sister, it is I!  Coomara's widow!  I have come to join my
+tears with yours!"
+
+And promptly Mayita buried her face in the coarse new saree of her
+sister-widow and gave full rein to her grief.
+
+Dorama felt like a drowning waif who had abandoned hope, and to whom
+was suddenly held out a friendly hand.  She clung passionately to
+Mayita, trembling and catching her breath in dry sobs.
+
+"Sit down, sister," said Mayita presently.  "Let us talk.  No one cares
+where the widow is, nor what she does.  Listen; I have news for you.
+This morning they put ladders down the well by the cattle shed where
+your husband's cap was found.  They searched for his body with hooks
+and nets, but they found nothing.  If he is there he lies like a stone
+at the bottom.  Some say that as he turned Christian he cannot come up.
+The devil living in the well has eaten him.  My brother laughs and says
+they are all mistaken.  He is not there."
+
+"Not there!" cried Dorama startled.  Then as the flicker of hope
+momentarily kindled died down she added: "But if not there, where can
+he be?"
+
+"He has gone to the missionary, the good Englishman, who will be a
+father to him."
+
+"Impossible!  He could not stand, far less walk, after the beating that
+they gave him; and he had no friends."
+
+"My brother assures me that he is alive and he means to make sure of it
+by secret inquiry.  Oh, Dorama! dear sister!  I am so sorry for you.
+But listen!  Beloved!--I may call you so now.  Beloved! it is so sweet
+to have a sister!  I have been so lonely since my evil fate overtook
+me.  Oh! so lonely!  With only the good Bopaul to say a kind word to
+me.  Even my mother hates the sight of me, and curses me because I
+bring bad luck to the house."
+
+There was a pause during which the two girls clung together.
+
+"Sister!" whispered Mayita striving to catch sight of the other's face
+in the dim light.  "Sister, where were you going when you fell into my
+arms?"
+
+Dorama did not reply, but suddenly she began to moan.  Mayita strove to
+comfort her, and when the agitation lessened she began again.
+
+"Sister! you were going to the well.  It must not be.  You must live
+lest by any chance your husband comes to life again.  It will be hard,
+oh, very hard sometimes, almost more than one can bear.  But for his
+sake it must be borne; for, if he ever does come back, it will
+assuredly send him to the well if he finds that you are dead.  Promise
+me, sister; promise me that you will not go to the well."
+
+"I promise, little one!" replied Dorama brokenly.
+
+"That's right!  Now it is time for me to go back."
+
+"Alone, little sister?"
+
+"My brother waits for me by the gateway.  He is so good! oh, so good to
+the poor widow.  May the blessing of all the gods I have offended rest
+for ever on his dear head."
+
+Dorama watched her white figure till it was lost in the darkness of the
+night.  Then she turned her face towards the garden entrance and passed
+unnoticed into the house.  They who happened to be near the path she
+took in crossing the courtyard, stepped aside so as to place themselves
+well out of reach of possible contact with her shadow.  Others seeing
+her coming turned back into the room they were leaving, and closed the
+door till she should have passed.
+
+When the evening meal was served out, knowing too well what was
+expected of her, she remained outside the family circle until all had
+finished, including the youngest and most insignificant child of the
+establishment.  Then and then only did she--who among the women had
+been formerly helped immediately after the big mistress and before her
+aunt--received her portion.  It was ample and sufficing; but it was
+eaten in bitter humiliation and anguish of heart, as she realised the
+dreadful fact that this was only the beginning of a lifelong existence
+from which there could be no escape.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+A week passed during which Pantulu's family settled back into the
+ordinary routine.  Sooba was gratified by the performance of the
+widowing ceremonies; he felt to a certain degree revenged upon his
+unfortunate nephew.  The adulation received from the visitors did
+something to restore his wounded vanity; but the disrespect shown by
+Dr. Wenaston's housekeeper was not yet atoned for; and his
+vindictiveness in that direction continued to smoulder.
+
+A second letter arrived from Gunga asking for news of Ananda.  It
+contained a message that amounted to a parental order.  Gunga desired
+her son to come to her at once.  She suggested that by this time the
+popular feeling against him in the town would have subsided; and it
+would be quite safe for him to travel in the bullock coach which had
+taken her and her husband to their new home.  She went into further
+detail about the proposed journey, and asked that some personal
+property should be forwarded by the conveyance that brought her son.
+Sooba read the letter aloud to his wife in his perplexity.
+
+"It means that my brother is worse and he wants to make one more appeal
+to his son," he commented.
+
+"You will have to tell him that Ananda is dead."
+
+"I shall do nothing of the kind--at present.  It is strange that the
+well refuses to give up the body."
+
+"Not at all, husband.  The gods have permitted the demon of the well to
+do its worst.  Perhaps one day his bones may be brought to light; but
+we shall never see his body again."
+
+"As far as we are all concerned it would be a good thing if he were
+never seen again.  It would solve the difficulty of funeral
+ceremonies," remarked Sooba complacently.
+
+"Does our sister say nothing about Dorama?"
+
+"Nothing at all."
+
+"If she knew she would ask for the jewels.  You have them all safe?"
+
+"Perfectly safe."
+
+"Why not replace them in the family chest?" she asked, a touch of
+anxiety in her voice.
+
+"Because I choose to keep them myself."
+
+She was silent in spite of her uneasiness.  She was aware that Sooba
+had not only taken possession of the jewels, but had also appropriated
+some of the money recently paid in by the middle-men who purchased the
+produce of Pantulu's estate.  They brought rupee notes and took Sooba's
+receipt without a suspicion of anything wrong.  Sooba himself saw no
+harm in his action.  He was a little premature; but as it would all be
+his at no distant time there was nothing dishonest about it.
+
+"What answer shall you send?"
+
+"I shall say that we gave Ananda the punishment commanded by the swami,
+taking care not to be too severe."
+
+"It was very severe all the same.  Sometimes I think that he may have
+crawled away into the jungle and died there."
+
+"Chah! woman! you babble like a fool!" retorted Sooba with irritation.
+"We are speaking now of what is to be said to our sister.  In return
+for our leniency--for not having given him the full measure prescribed
+by the holy one----"
+
+"The men said that it was more than----"
+
+"Peace, idiot!  Let me finish what I intend to say to my sister-in-law.
+In return for our kindness he has gone off, we can't say where.  He
+tried to entice away the foolish deluded Dorama and persuade her to go
+with him; but we discovered the plan just in time to stop her."
+
+His wife was not satisfied.  She had no objection to the distortion of
+the tale.  What she feared was the discovery of the truth by Gunga.
+The story of the widow ceremony must come to her ears before many more
+days were passed; and nothing would be gained by rousing her wrath
+unnecessarily.  As long as there was a breath of life in Pantulu, Gunga
+ruled absolutely; and it was in her power to turn out Sooba and his
+wife if serious offence were given.
+
+"Leave it to me," said Sooba confidently and untroubled by any qualms
+of conscience.  "Our sister is occupied in looking after her husband.
+Her own approaching widowhood will take up the rest of her thoughts.
+We need not fear that she will make inquiry or trouble about anything
+until the end comes.  Then I in the absence of Ananda will be chief
+mourner and master of the house.  It will be your voice and not our
+sister's that will hold the attention of the zenana.  The jewels may be
+worn by you; they will become you well, wife."
+
+She was not satisfied even with this rosy dream of wealth and
+authority, and she asked uneasily:
+
+"When will you tell Gunga of her son?"
+
+"In another week perhaps I may begin to break the news."
+
+The days that followed the widowing rites passed strangely for Dorama.
+She hated her new position and inwardly revolted against it.  She
+loathed her rough garment and bare head.  The cool evening wind caught
+her behind the ears and at the back of her neck--where formerly the
+heavy strands of hair formed a covering--and gave her twinges of
+neuralgia.  She shivered and drew up the saree shawl-wise over her
+head, but it slipped down having nothing to cling to.  She missed the
+daily details of her toilet.  There was no hair to comb, and scent, and
+plait with fresh blossoms; no jewels to fasten on arm and neck.  She
+was not permitted to use any of the various cosmetics treasured in the
+brass box with its many divisions that was her own special property;
+the rouge, sandal-wood paste, saffron powder, lip-salve, henna and the
+sweet atta of rose.  The only thing allowed was the use of pure water.
+The food was good, but the mode of serving deprived her of appetite.
+By the time her turn came she was so full of misery and impatience at
+her altered circumstances, that she found no pleasure in eating the
+excellent curry prepared in the kitchen.  Alone and like a guilty thing
+she bolted her meals, sometimes shedding bitter tears as she did so.
+Even the luxury of grief was denied.  If tears were seen or a sob
+heard, she was reproved.  Did she want to bring bad luck upon the
+house? she was asked.  If a basin was broken or a pot upset, angry
+glances were directed towards her.  If the woman slicing vegetables cut
+her finger, she showed it to the widow with an injured expression, as
+much as to say: Look at the effect of having a person like you in the
+house!
+
+Her services were not urgently needed in the kitchen where many hands
+made light work; and it frequently happened to her to be ordered out of
+the room.  She wandered away in listless fashion, aware that wherever
+she went her presence would be unwelcome.  Only one spot seemed free to
+her, and this was because it was deserted by all others.  The small
+room formerly occupied by her husband was always empty, and thither she
+was drawn by memory and association.
+
+At first she merely sat upon the mat and brooded, looking out of the
+open door at the forest-clad mountain with eyes that saw nothing of its
+beauty in line or colour.  On the third day she noticed that the dust
+had accumulated, and that the dead jasmin blossoms remained just where
+they had fallen.  She went out into the compound and gathered a bunch
+of twigs with which she swept out the room.  In so doing she discovered
+a glove that had belonged to her husband.  She recognised it as his
+and, picking it up, she kissed it passionately.  Once, not so very long
+ago, it had been a covering to his dear hand.  He had worn it in that
+far-off smoky city of the west, and the strange scent still clung to it.
+
+When she had finished her self-appointed task, she seated herself on
+the mat to indulge in the pleasure of gloating over her treasure; and
+to devise a secure hiding place for it in the fold of her saree.  A
+dozen times it was hidden and brought out again to be fondled and gazed
+at, to be tenderly nursed like a baby on her arm.  She was startled by
+the sound of a footfall.  Hastily thrusting her treasure into her saree
+she looked up and saw Mayita.
+
+"Ah, dear sister.  How good it is to meet again!  My brother caught
+sight of you as he walked through the compound, and he sent me to talk
+to you while he goes to the house to ask for news of your husband."
+
+"There is no news," replied Dorama sadly.
+
+"Not yet; but there will be soon," replied Mayita confidently.  The
+child entered the room and glanced round with approval.  "You have
+swept it and made it tidy.  Does any one come here?"
+
+"Not that I know of," replied Dorama, her hand slipping under the folds
+of her cloth to close secretly over the glove.
+
+"Then it is ours for the present, ours! sister!  Think how delightful!
+Widows are not allowed to possess anything, so they say!  But listen, I
+will tell you a secret now that you are my sister.  They think I have
+nothing, nothing in this big world; but I have lots of treasures.  I am
+rich.  I have silver pots and golden cups and china dishes.  Sometimes
+they are filled with oranges and mangoes, pomegranates and mangosteens.
+I have jewels and silk sarees----"
+
+"What are you talking about, child!" cried Dorama staring at her in
+astonishment.
+
+"Hush, speak low, and I will show you some diamonds.  They are the
+dower of a bride in a marriage I am making."
+
+She untied a corner of her cloth and produced some small white stones
+that she had picked up in the compound.  She chose one and lifted it
+daintily.
+
+"This magnificent stone of the first water was found at Golcondah a
+thousand years ago.  It was once in the crown of a rich Maharajah.  It
+is worth twenty lacs of rupees; and if this wedding can be
+arranged----" her brow puckered suddenly, "but things are not going
+well.  The astrologer has pronounced unfavourably on the horoscopes.
+The bride's element is water, and the bridegroom's partly air and
+partly fire.  Air and water will agree; but fire and water!--what can
+it mean unless it be misfortune?"
+
+"What will you do?" asked Dorama entering into the fanciful world of
+the other with the kindly indulgence of the older woman towards the
+younger.
+
+"I have paid a large sum to the astrologer.  He is a very clever
+man--oh, so wise--and he has gone to a big temple in the south to ask
+for the assistance of the gods.  I would do anything rather than
+disappoint the bridegroom.  He is so handsome, so fair, so big and
+strong!  The bride will die of grief if she is not permitted to marry
+him.  Already she is drooping and languishing because of the delay.
+Beloved sister, you must come to the wedding.  You shall be the
+bridegroom's mother."
+
+A generous offer that Dorama accepted with a sad smile.  There was a
+vast gulf between the two widows.  One had never tasted the reality.
+She had only been a bride in name, and she was still able to live in
+the rosy dreams of maiden fancy.  The other had drunk the cup and
+realised every thing.  To her this make-believe was but a mockery, the
+dust and ashes of a tantalising memory.
+
+"Where is the bridegroom?" asked Dorama.
+
+Mayita untied another knot in her saree and produced a wood-apple which
+she exhibited proudly.
+
+"See, isn't he well made?" she said.  "Look at his limbs.  Feel his
+smooth skin!  How tall!  how proud he is and how strong.  He will be
+the father of many sons."
+
+"Have you the bride as well?"
+
+"She has to live with her people at present.  Her home is in the datura
+bush.  She wears a saree of pure white satin and she hangs her head
+with beautiful modesty.  Sister!"  Mayita's eyes surveyed the room with
+approval.  "We will have the wedding here.  The astrologer will soon be
+back from the south, and I am sure that his visit to the temple will
+have made matters smooth.  We shall be able to decorate the place and
+lay out the feast.  I will bring my silver pots and china dishes
+to-morrow and we will hide them behind your husband's boxes.  Oh, how
+delightful it will be!  What a wedding we will have!"
+
+Mayita's eyes sparkled, and the beautiful brown tones of her skin were
+enriched as the warm blood coursed through her veins.  In spite of her
+shaven head and coarse garment, her youth and comeliness asserted
+themselves.  She babbled on about the wedding, the difficulties that
+had occurred over the dower as well as the horoscope, the number of
+guests to be invited, and other details to which Dorama listened, her
+hand over the hidden glove, her thoughts wandering back into the past
+when there was another wedding less nebulous than that of Mayita's
+devising, and she herself was the bride.  A call outside checked the
+flow of description, and Mayita rose quickly to her feet.
+
+"It is my brother.  Come to the entrance of the yard while I ask him
+for news; and listen."
+
+Bopaul in the customary manner of a caste man, stood a little way off
+waiting for his sister to join him.
+
+"What news of Ananda?" asked the child, stopping in the entrance and
+calling to him.
+
+"They have none."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"They still speak of the well; but I do not believe that he is dead.
+Come, little one, it is time we returned."
+
+Mayita kissed Dorama.
+
+"My brother is right.  Your husband lives; but for the present you are
+his widow.  To-morrow Coomara's widow will come again.  There will be
+news by that time from the astrologer, and we shall be able to begin
+the preparations for the wedding.  Sister, those big boxes must be
+pushed aside; they will be in the way.  Do you think that we could move
+them?  We will try to-morrow."
+
+Another call from Bopaul, and Mayita beat a hasty retreat.  Dorama was
+left standing at the entrance.  The sun had disappeared in a heavy bank
+of cloud that later would be streaked with electricity.  Rain was
+wanted; there had been none for the last few days.  Her eye rested on
+the gourd that had been trampled by the inquisitive crowd.  She went to
+it.
+
+"Poor plant!  They killed you I am afraid; but no, you are not dead!
+Here are some buds coming and fresh leaves!"
+
+She stooped over the vine and plucked away the bruised foliage leaving
+the stalks almost as bare as her own poor head.  Unlovely though the
+rough stems were they were full of virility; and the rain and sun would
+mend what was marred and reclothe the plant with verdure.  She
+straightened out a few twisted stems and lifted some leaves that had
+been trodden down but escaped total destruction.  It was a curious
+sight; the crushed tending the crushed.
+
+Then she entered the room again and thought of the child.  Why should
+she not have the small pleasure of playing her little game on the
+morrow.  She looked at the two portmanteaux and considered how they
+could be moved out of the way.  They were her husband's and must be
+cared for, as they contained his clothes and books.  Of course they
+were heavy and beyond her power to move.
+
+She gripped the handle of one and putting all her strength into the
+effort attempted to lift it.  To her astonishment it yielded with such
+ease that she nearly fell over backwards.  A cry escaped her lips as
+she dropped it.  It was empty.  She tested the weight of the other with
+the same result.  That too was empty, if she might judge by its
+lightness.
+
+The knowledge came as a shock; it was a revelation, and threw a fresh
+and unexpected light on her husband's disappearance.  If he had thrown
+himself down the well it was hardly likely that he would have taken all
+his clothes and books with him.  They would still be here.  Where they
+had gone he must have followed.  But stay! had some thief stolen the
+contents?  If so the locks would betray him.  She examined them
+closely.  They were sound and unbroken.  No sign of the hand of a thief
+was to be seen.  The boxes were properly locked and their contents had
+been removed with the owner's consent.
+
+A great joy swept over her, lifting a dull dead weight from her heart.
+Bopaul had asserted his belief more than once that his friend still
+lived, and she had heard the assertion with very little faith.  This
+discovery altered the complexion of affairs completely and brought
+conviction.  Her husband was surely alive!  In spite of the dreadful
+bangle-breaking ceremony; in spite of the coarse clothing and shaven
+head she was not a widow.  One day he would come back to her and claim
+her for his own.  She would feel his dear arms round her again, his
+lips upon hers, his words of love would be breathed in her ears once
+more!
+
+The joy of it all deprived her of muscular strength for the time, and
+she sank down by those rough battered trunks, leaning her arms upon
+them and laying her cheek against the stained leather.  She could have
+hugged and kissed them in her gratitude for what they had revealed.
+
+Gradually her mind cleared; it seemed to have matured during the last
+few weeks and to have aged with experience.  She thought of all she had
+gone through.  First there was the bewilderment caused by his change of
+faith, which raised a barrier between him and herself, and she realised
+how intensely disappointed she was.  Then came the loss of the child
+and her sorrow.  Lastly, she had had to endure the degradation of
+widowhood which, coming as it did on the top of her loss of husband and
+child, brought her to the verge of hopeless despair.  Had it not been
+for the opportune visit of Mayita she would now be lying in the well
+where, up to the present, she had believed her husband to be.
+
+The conviction that he was alive grew upon her as she sat there in the
+darkening room.  She drew out the glove and pressed it to her lips.  To
+all intents and purposes she was still a widow, and as such she must
+remain for the present.  As she cherished the glove and hid it, so she
+must keep her discovery a secret.  She must also guard against showing
+the new hope that had sprung up; the hope that he would return, that
+sooner or later he would seek her out and bid her come.  Could he do it
+openly?  She doubted the wisdom of such a course.  She remembered how
+they had failed in their first attempt to escape.  There must be no
+failure the second time.  She must be careful and cautious and trust to
+no one.
+
+The more she contemplated the step she might be called upon to take at
+any moment, the more clearly she understood its seriousness.  The
+effect would be far-reaching and irretrievable.  To throw in her lot
+with her husband would mean that she would cut herself adrift from the
+family for ever.  She must be one with him, of his faith, and dead to
+all her relatives.
+
+Was she prepared to make the sacrifice?  Yes, a thousand times, yes!
+The old spirit that had led her remote ancestresses to the funeral pile
+to die in the flames that devoured their dead husbands' bodies, rose
+strongly within her and bound her to her living husband.  For his sake
+she would endure and bear as he had endured and borne.  She would be
+ready when his summons came; and she would go gladly, even though he
+beckoned to her from the fire of adversity, that burned as fiercely as
+the flames of the old suttee funeral pile; she would join him and cling
+to him for ever!
+
+She lifted her head with eyes that shone, not with tears but with a new
+light.  The last vestige of the child died within her; and the woman
+who walked thoughtfully back to the zenana, as the shadow of night
+settled over the landscape, was a woman of determination and strength
+of purpose.  The baptism of sorrow had lifted her on to a higher plane,
+and had fitted her for better things than a colourless life of inert
+misery.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+Alderbury had been travelling over his district.  As superintending
+missionary his presence was urgently needed in half a dozen places at
+once as a rule, not to teach his converts hymns, but to govern their
+temporal business and to guide their spiritual affairs, to encourage
+the faint-hearted and to shake the pastoral staff, metaphorically
+speaking, in the faces of those who showed signs of the old Adam.  They
+received his ministrations with admirable meekness and adored him all
+the more for his reproof or praise.  He loved his people in return, but
+that fact did not blind him to their weaknesses.
+
+He journeyed in a country cart; not a luxuriously fitted bullock coach
+such as conveyed Pantulu and his wife to their destination, but a
+veritable springless vehicle of the country with a hood of matting of
+the roughest description.  At the bottom was laid a mattress.  Between
+the driver, who sat on the same plane with his feet on the pole, and
+the mattress were piled the boxes and baskets containing the
+necessaries of life required on the itinerating picnic.  They formed a
+kind of screen between the driver and the occupant of the cart.  The
+back of the hood was curtained with a piece of calico thick enough to
+keep out the sun.  The most comfortable position for the traveller
+whether journeying by night or day was to lie down at full length with
+his head towards the driver.
+
+Alderbury usually travelled by night for various reasons.  It was
+cooler; it saved time; it was far more comfortable than sleeping at a
+village school-house, where nothing but a mat was provided.  In this
+way he arrived at his destination soon after sunrise ready to begin the
+day's work of inspection, services, surplice duties, pastoral visits
+and interviews with the native agents.
+
+It was just nine days since Ananda had disappeared.  Wenaston wrote to
+the missionary after Sooba's visit of inquiry and told him of the
+intrusion; he asked him to come on his way back and stay for a couple
+of nights or more if he could spare the time.  He thought something
+should be done in the way of inquiry after the welfare of the convert,
+even though he had definitely refused help on a former occasion.  The
+letter followed Alderbury out into the district, and found him just in
+time to allow of his carrying out Wenaston's suggestion.
+
+From long practice in constant travelling Alderbury had learned to
+sleep fairly well in the cart, in spite of its jolts and jerks and the
+strange utterances of the driver when he occasionally woke up and spoke
+to his cattle.  On the morning when he intended to arrive at Chirapore
+he roused himself before dawn; and sitting up as well as he could he
+dressed himself with more care than usual.  He knew who would be
+waiting for him in the trellised verandah with its mantle of blue
+ipomea.  In fancy he could see the tea-table laid out and the early tea
+ready, a rack of crisp toast and the boiled eggs.
+
+There had been a shower in the night, and the air was fresh and cool.
+He jumped out at the back of the cart, without stopping the slowly
+moving cattle, and strode forward with a superabundance of that
+vitality which never seemed to fail him.  The earth smelt sweet of
+growing vegetation, and the rain had laid the dust and washed the
+foliage.  Here and there the scent from clusters of newly-opened
+blossom on the roadside trees permeated the air.  On either side of the
+way spread cultivated fields and patches of garden, for the town was
+not far off, unconfined by any visible boundary.  Pomegranate bushes
+showed vivid spots of manderin scarlet where the flower promised fruit.
+All kinds of birds twittered and whistled and chirrupped in bush and
+tree.  Noisiest of all were the barbets that never ceased their
+monotonous call.
+
+Alderbury's eye lingered over every detail with an inborn joyousness
+that put him in sympathy with all living creatures.  The last mail from
+England had brought him news that might change the current of his life
+and bring him into new and wider fields.  It would mean harder work
+than ever; heavier responsibilities; greater liabilities that would
+leave him if anything poorer rather than richer; but he was ready for
+all and everything if----  Ah, that little if! there was so much behind
+it.  Prudence tried to reason and urged objections that were half true
+and unproven.  Was she sufficiently in sympathy with his work, with his
+aims?  Would she be a help?  It would be fatal if she drew away and
+separated her interests from his.  The more he doubted the more blindly
+he loved and desired; the more eager he was to know his fate.
+
+The pale rays of the sun shot up above the horizon on the east, and the
+white sheets of mist lying on the fields seemed to shiver and shrink as
+the merciless sun-god sent forth his heralds to give warning of his
+approach.  Long-legged natives wrapped in rough black blankets strode
+towards their tasks on the land, their brains still slumberous and
+their bodies still inert with sleep.  The cows and buffaloes followed
+the herdsman to the town, stopping before the doors where the milk was
+awaited for the early morning coffee.  Leisurely and without haste
+India awoke to its daily round free from the fever and fuss that marks
+the day in the west.
+
+Alderbury had the road to himself except for a municipal cart that
+passed now and then with the load gathered from the streets in the
+night.  Behind him rumbled his own conveyance which he was out-walking
+rapidly.  The cattle had done the journey well, and he was earlier than
+he dared to hope; yet for all that his walk, was quick and impetuous as
+though he were drawn towards his goal in spite of himself.
+
+He arrived at the first house on the outskirts of the town.  It was the
+one in which Pantulu's family lived.  The household was astir and a
+group of men stood in the verandah preparing to go out on their various
+errands and duties.  From the midst burst Sooba who recognised the
+missionary although the latter was not acquainted with Pantulu's
+brother.
+
+"May I have a word with you, sir," asked Sooba.
+
+"With pleasure," replied Alderbury in some surprise.  He had no
+adherents in Chirapore nor in the State, and for the moment he had
+forgotten Ananda's existence.  "What can I do for you?"
+
+"I wish to ask you a few questions about my nephew," said Sooba.
+
+"Yes; but tell me first who is your nephew?"
+
+As he spoke Alderbury looked up at the house and suddenly remembered
+the visit he had paid.
+
+"Of course, I recollect now.  This is where Ananda lives.  How is he?
+I hope he is well."
+
+Sooba glanced at the Englishman suspiciously, trying to hide his
+distrust under a forced smile.
+
+"My nephew sought your assistance some days ago, sir."
+
+"I think you are mistaken.  I offered help but he refused it.  Since
+that time I have neither seen nor heard of him, except the fact
+mentioned by Dr. Wenaston in a letter, that he had left his home and
+that you were under the impression that he had gone to the college.  It
+was extremely kind of the Principal to allow you to go through his
+private rooms.  I am not sure that I should have been so obliging."
+
+Alderbury's voice had unconsciously assumed a tone of reproof, and
+Sooba writhed inwardly under it.
+
+"Dr. Wenaston could not refuse, since a refusal would have been a tacit
+acknowledgment that he was harbouring a Christian and breaking his
+covenant with the Maharajah."
+
+"Not at all," replied Alderbury sharply.  He did not like the manner of
+the man.  "You took a great liberty.  It was sufficient for all
+purposes that he assured you Ananda was not there.  What made you think
+that your nephew had gone to him for help?"
+
+"The gardener gave me a hint that some one had arrived the night
+before," said Sooba sullenly.
+
+"The gardener!  Ah, the man owes his mistress a grudge.  The
+housekeeper caught him stealing her roses.  So that was how he took his
+revenge, and you were foolish enough to be made the instrument."
+
+"The gardener was right in saying that a visitor had arrived in the
+night.  The woman's son, a sick soldier, came in by the mail.  I saw
+him lying in her room drunk."
+
+"Where do you suppose your nephew has gone?" asked Alderbury not
+choosing to discuss Mrs. Hulver with the man.
+
+"That is what I expect you to tell me, since he has been so foolish as
+to break his caste and join a religion that is acceptable to the
+pariahs and panchamas only."
+
+"Sorry I can't oblige you; good morning," said Alderbury, checking his
+rising anger with difficulty.
+
+Sooba was left standing in the road.  His eyes followed the athletic
+form of the Englishman with no good will.  He believed Alderbury when
+he declared his ignorance of Ananda's movements, because the drowning
+theory commended itself for various reasons, and because he had already
+ascertained that his nephew was not at the mission station.  Ananda
+ought to be at the bottom of the well; every circumstance pointed to
+it.  At the same time seeing the missionary on the road he thought it
+was a good opportunity of speaking to him.  At the back of his subtle
+mind was the hope that, in a chance conversation of the kind, he might
+be able to offer him some slight about which he could brag afterwards
+to his friends.  It was not necessary that Alderbury should notice and
+resent any discourtesy; it was sufficient that it should be shown; and
+it would go towards compensating the ill-conditioned man for the
+treatment he had received from Mrs. Hulver.
+
+Alderbury knowing the Oriental suspected something of the kind, and his
+suspicion was confirmed as soon as Christianity was mentioned.  He put
+an end to the interview abruptly leaving Sooba with a sense of failure
+that did not tend to smooth matters for him.
+
+The bullocks, recognising that they were not far off their halting
+place, put on a spurt and caught up the pedestrian, who dived into the
+cart from the back and sat cross-legged on his mattress until, with
+much jangling of bells, sighing and snorting of cattle, and creaking of
+cart-wheels, he arrived under the portico of the college house.  The
+welcome he so confidently anticipated struck no note of disappointment.
+
+Three hours later breakfast was over and Wenaston had departed to take
+up his duties in the college.  Eola was interviewing Mrs. Hulver and
+settling the housekeeping programme for the day.  She was inclined to
+be absent-minded, her thoughts wandering to such an extent that she was
+guilty of ordering two joints instead of one.  Mrs. Hulver regarded
+this lapse of memory with suspicion and recalled her young mistress to
+the subject somewhat sharply.
+
+"Mr. Alderbury has a dainty appetite more suitable to a bishop than a
+missionary.  He doesn't want two joints," she remarked.
+
+"Dear me! did I order two?" asked Eola in some confusion.
+
+"Yes, miss; you asked for a boiled hump of beef and a roast saddle of
+mutton.  The saddle you shall have to-morrow.  The hump is for to-night
+as it has been quite long enough in pickle.  That with the fish and
+entrees will more than satisfy Mr. Alderbury.  I don't hold with a
+daintiness above your station.  As William--that was my second--used to
+say: 'A private can't expect captain's grub, and a captain mustn't look
+for general's fare, else there'll be proud stomachs.'"
+
+"Have you ever seen a bishop?" asked Eola, feeling vaguely that she
+must throw off suspicion and show an interest in Mrs. Hulver's
+conversation.
+
+"Yes, miss, of course I have!  Wasn't I confirmed by one?  He was tall
+and solemn and had a thin grey beard.  He reminded me somehow--it
+wasn't his legs--of a picture in my father's big family bible of the
+goat that was sent out by the Children of Israel into the wilderness."
+
+"The scape-goat that had to bear the sins of the people," said Eola,
+her eyes wandering through the house to the front verandah where she
+could see her guest in the distance absorbed in his letters.
+
+"Yes, miss.  The bishop was just like the picture.  Hadn't he got to
+bear the sins of his people? and a very serious business it was too.
+When he confirmed me he gave me clean sheets and started me afresh; he
+took my sins on him.  I shouldn't like to be a bishop considering all
+he has to bear and wear.  The gaiters and the tights would be enough to
+put one off the job, even though the apron does lend a little decency
+to the style.  As William--that was my third--used to say: 'All are not
+saints who go to church, or bishops and padres would have an easy time
+of it.'"
+
+During this speech Eola's attention again wandered.  Mr. Alderbury was
+still busy with his letters.  As soon as he had finished reading his
+correspondence she intended joining him.
+
+"Then that's all for this morning," she said, as Mrs. Hulver came to an
+end of her dissertation on church dignitaries.
+
+"You haven't ordered the pudding, miss."
+
+She made the announcement in the same manner in which she might have
+said, "You haven't said your prayers, miss."
+
+"I'm so sorry.  What has cook brought?  Green mangoes?  Yes; they will
+do nicely stewed; and a custard pudding."
+
+"Custard pudding!" repeated Mrs. Hulver with disdain.  "It's the
+pudding Mr. Alderbury gets every other day of his life! and him with
+the tastes of a bishop!"
+
+"Then I leave it to you, Mrs. Hulver.  Now let me finish with the
+accounts."
+
+Mrs. Hulver was more vigilant than ever this morning over Ramachetty's
+charges.  Miss Wenaston was clearly not fit for the matutinal crossing
+of swords with the sharp-witted butler, and it was the housekeeper's
+duty to intervene and protect.
+
+"As William--that was my third--used to say: 'It's fatal to go into
+action unless you've got your wits about you and your guns are in good
+order,'" remarked Mrs. Hulver when she had checked the butler for the
+third time.
+
+Eola did not see the point of her remark and Mrs. Hulver made no
+attempt to explain.  The bazaar account book was closed with relief,
+and the butler and cook dismissed.
+
+"How is young William getting on?" asked Eola, preparatory to
+dismissing her housekeeper as well.
+
+"He is nearly well, though I can't get the colour of his eye down
+altogether.  What his colonel will say to him to-morrow I don't know.
+He will have to be told the truth if he asks about the black eye."
+
+"He may not make any inquiries if he finds young William"--by common
+consent the adjective had been given to distinguish the son from the
+three Williams of the former generation--"doing his work properly."
+
+"There are colonels and colonels, miss.  Some can put on the blinkers
+when they think fit.  Others shy and jib at everything that comes
+within sight.  Fortunately young William's complexion helps a bit, and
+the black eye doesn't show as it would if he were as fair as his
+father."
+
+"Then you think of sending him back to-morrow."
+
+"His leave will be up by that time."
+
+"I must tell my brother.  He said he would speak to him about the
+canteen and fighting."
+
+"It would do him good, miss; but to tell the truth I've said pretty
+nearly all there is to be said and I haven't sounded cease firing yet."
+
+"I hope the scolding has not been overdone," said Eola, a wave of pity
+for young William passing through her as she thought of the lectures
+the anxious mother had already given to her erring son.
+
+"No fear, miss.  It's my chance and I haven't spared him.  I shan't see
+young William for some time to come.  I've let him have it broadside,
+in the front and in the rear.  As William--that was my third, and he
+was a gunner--used to say, 'Don't spare powder and shot if you want to
+produce a lasting impression on the enemy.'  There's one thing I want
+to ask you, miss.  Is Mr. Alderbury going on from here by his carts or
+by train?"
+
+"By motor; the carts are to leave early to-morrow morning or to-night.
+The motor will be wanted after lunch to-morrow.  The chauffeur must
+spend the night at the mission bungalow and return the next day."
+
+"Then nothing will be needed for Mr. Alderbury's tiffin basket,"
+remarked Mrs. Hulver as though dismissing the subject since it did not
+concern her any further.
+
+Eola caught sight of her guest pacing to and fro in the verandah and
+she turned away to join him.  Mrs. Hulver followed her.
+
+"I should be glad if you could spare me to-morrow for half a day.  I
+should like to go to the station with young William and see him off.
+He will leave by an early train so as to get in in time to report
+himself before six."
+
+"By all means take as much time as you like."
+
+"Would you like to come and speak a word to young William, miss?"
+
+"No, please not; I really have nothing to say."
+
+"It would do him good if you just said as before; 'Let it be----'"
+
+Eola interrupted her hastily.
+
+"Oh, no, Mrs. Hulver; I am sure that more than enough has been said.
+Young William will be glad to get away."
+
+"Then the Doctor will come and talk to him."
+
+"Is it necessary?  Don't you think he might be let off any further
+scolding?"
+
+"Well, miss; he has yet to face the sergeant and perhaps the colonel.
+So it isn't done with yet; and he won't be out of the firing line till
+he has reported himself and had his dressing-down."
+
+"Then I am sure that he must be spared anything further from us."
+
+Mrs. Hulver's reply was to the effect that it should be as Miss
+Wenaston pleased.  Ten minutes later the housekeeper might have been
+seen, in a huge mushroom topee and with a large white umbrella,
+crossing the compound in the direction of the camping-ground chosen by
+Alderbury's driver and servant.  In the afternoon business took her to
+the town to make some purchases for young William, she explained to
+Ramachetty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+"How have you been getting on lately?" asked Eola as she sank into a
+cane lounge in the verandah.
+
+Alderbury stopped in his perambulation, gathered up a number of letters
+lying on the table where the tea was usually spread and made them into
+a neat packet.  None of them required an immediate answer; they could
+all wait until he reached home.  He intended to make the most of his
+one day's holiday.  He had the whole morning before him; Wenaston was
+engaged till lunch, and Eola presumably had nothing to do but entertain
+her guest.  It was a pleasant prospect, and he was conscious of a sense
+of luxury that did not often enter his life.  He revelled in the
+unwonted leisure of the hour and took his time to reply.  He seated
+himself in a chair by her side, and half turned so that he might have a
+full view of her face against the green creeper-covered trellis that
+shut in the end of the verandah.
+
+"I have a fair share of trouble balanced by some satisfaction."
+
+"Converts been doing anything very naughty lately?"
+
+He laughed in kindly fashion.  In his large sympathetic soul he held
+his people dear, from the blackest little ball of a baby brought to him
+for baptism to the white-haired old woman; who persisted in calling him
+father though she was twice his age.
+
+"It is rather like having a very large nursery or school of children,"
+he said.  "Some of them are so good and others----"
+
+"Are up to tricks," Eola concluded for him.
+
+"Only between us confidentially."
+
+They both laughed in a way that showed a mutual understanding and not a
+little sympathy on the part of the woman, not so much for his work as
+for himself personally.
+
+"Do tell me their latest," she said softly.
+
+"It is not for publication.  On your honour you won't give me and my
+people away to a missionary magazine?"
+
+"I promise."
+
+"Let me whisper my troubles in your ear, then.  I have had a bother
+over a bell tower.  Four months ago I sent five hundred rupees that I
+had collected for the purpose to the native pastor in charge of the
+little church at Ramapet; and I solemnly enjoined on him by letter the
+necessity of beginning the building of the tower at once.  I have been
+to see it."
+
+"You have found that they have put up a glorified steeple, I suppose,
+costing twice as much as the sum you sent."
+
+"Wrong, dear lady, entirely wrong!  The bell tower surrounds the
+property on which the church stands in the form of a wall; and in the
+corner of the compound is a new well."
+
+"What has become of the bell?"
+
+"It is there safe enough; oh, yes, and it rings all right.  The church
+council composed of the most important of the native parishioners met
+me and pointed out how wise they had been, as wise as serpents to use
+their own expression.  The church compound is already under cultivation
+and the water will not only produce a crop, I should say rather, two
+crops in the year, but will also be a source of income as it is
+purchased by the villagers at so much a bucket.  They are all delighted
+with themselves for their cleverness.  The bell-tower, they say, will
+come all in good time.  Meanwhile they have erected a little shelter of
+mats and bamboos in a peepul tree and have hung the bell there."
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"I had to disapprove and point out that it was a breach of faith and a
+misappropriation of funds."
+
+"Was the wall needed?"
+
+"Badly!  Nothing could be done with the land to make it productive
+until we had an effective barrier to keep out the buffaloes and goats."
+
+"Then really it is a most excellent move."
+
+"Not at all!  Don't you see that there are principles involved?"
+
+"They should have asked your consent, you mean, to the temporary
+deflection of the money?"
+
+"I should never have given it!  They knew it and took good care not to
+let me into the secret.  What am I to do, pray?  Where is my bell-tower
+to come from?  It will take two or three years before they can refund
+the money.  Some of it was given by an enthusiastic lover of bells, who
+was charmed with the idea of assisting to build the tower.  Bells, he
+declared, were missionaries themselves and exercised a Christianising
+influence.  What am I to say to him?  He won't see any Christianising
+influence in the well and the wall."
+
+He sat up in his long armed chair and gazed at Eola with comic concern.
+It made her laugh.
+
+"My sympathies are all with the builders of the wall.  I know how I
+felt towards the buffaloes and goats before the wall round this
+compound was completed.  After all the bell does very well for the
+present in the peepul tree."
+
+"Your morals are hopelessly inferior--I won't say bad--and you would
+make a very weak mission agent," he said, shaking his head over her
+shortcomings.
+
+"Should I?  Then I mustn't marry a missionary.  Think how awful it
+would be if while he was away preaching to the heathen, I remained at
+home encouraging his converts to misappropriate the mission funds."
+
+"He would have to take you with him; it wouldn't be safe to leave you
+behind."
+
+They both laughed; then he became serious again.
+
+"But I say, really, joking apart; you know they have put me into no end
+of a difficulty by their cleverness, and I am at my wits' end to think
+how I am to rectify it."
+
+"I know!" cried Eola, with a sudden inspiration.  "Haven't you any
+other funds in hand from which you could borrow and get the tower built
+at once?"
+
+He jumped to his feet as was his way when excited and strode up and
+down the verandah.
+
+"You are every bit as bad as my people!  That's the very thing they
+have done and which I am deprecating; and you suggest that I should
+follow their example.  I can see that I have a duty to perform.  I must
+take you in hand and convert you."
+
+He stopped in front of her and let his eyes rest upon her abundant hair.
+
+"Try," she said, looking up at him with shining eyes in which amusement
+mingled with something else.  "Do try; I should like to see what your
+method would be."
+
+"Would you?" he replied.  "You might not like it."
+
+"Is it the same as you apply to the heathen?"
+
+"Not exactly."
+
+Her eyes lowered before his, and she was seized with a sudden anxiety
+to direct the conversation into a fresh channel.
+
+"Sit down, Mr. Alderbury, and tell me more about your converts," she
+said hastily.
+
+"Very well, I will defer the conversion till a more suitable time and
+talk--of marriage."
+
+Again she was startled.  She glanced at him as he dropped into the seat
+he had vacated so abruptly.  His self-possession was in no way
+disturbed.
+
+"Marriage!" she repeated as the colour mounted.
+
+He revelled in her sweet confusion; but had mercy.
+
+"Yes; the marriage of one of my converts.  A young man in the
+agricultural settlement wants to marry the daughter of a distant
+relative.  The girl is still a heathen.  Of course I had to say no, and
+counsel patience.  We don't allow mixed marriages.  I left him rather
+sad, as he knows the girl and is attached to her.  Being pariahs they
+have been allowed to see something of each other."
+
+"Oh, poor fellow!  Is she fond of him?"
+
+"Yes; I think so; as far as a modest Hindu maid may permit herself to
+be."
+
+"Then they ought to be married; and I think it is very horrid of you to
+forbid the wedding."
+
+"The girl must become a Christian first; then the wedding bells shall
+be rung and the feast prepared; but not till then."
+
+"But supposing she won't become a Christian, what then?"
+
+"The marriage can't take place."
+
+"Poor lovers!  What a shame!  You are hard on them!  Why shouldn't the
+girl marry first and be converted afterwards?"
+
+"That would never do.  I always begin with conversion;" he looked at
+her and paused with half a smile; then he added: "Marriage must follow
+conversion."
+
+"Oh, must it!" she replied with a challenge in her voice.  "You take a
+good deal for granted."
+
+"A common fault with men of my profession, I fear," he replied with a
+decision that had its attraction.
+
+"Are you never disappointed?"
+
+There was a slight pause.  His reply was spoken in a different tone.
+
+"In the matter of bell towers, yes."
+
+Alderbury sat down again, and Eola with half averted face looked out
+into the sunlit compound where the brilliant colours of the geraniums
+and bignonia creeper contrasted strongly with the pure snow white of
+the eucharis lilies; where butterflies that rivalled the flowers in
+tint fluttered like wind-driven petals across her vision, and the sweet
+scent of the _La France_ roses came in on the warm morning air.
+
+"Now tell me about Ananda," said Alderbury recalling her thoughts.
+
+"I know very little about him.  My information has come from Mrs.
+Hulver who picks up gossip in the bazaar.  You had better hear the
+story from her first hand.  I will send for her."
+
+A message was taken by the butler who met the housekeeper as she
+returned from her walk in the compound.  She went into her room to
+remove the mushroom hat and dispose of her umbrella; and she took the
+opportunity of telling young William that she had made arrangements for
+him to leave at daybreak the following morning.  She entered the front
+verandah, keen inquiry in her eye as to the reason of her call.
+
+"Were you wishing to have a few words with my son, sir?  If so, I
+should be pleased if you could come in half an hour.  He is just going
+to have his bath.  A dressing-down from your point of view will be very
+good for him.  As William--that was my third--used to say: 'Don't
+confine yourself to big guns in dealing with an enemy.  Bullets speak
+quite as plainly as cannon balls though they are neither so big nor so
+noisy.'"
+
+"I don't think your son wants any lecturing from me.  No doubt he is
+fully repentant after all that has happened.  Dr. Wenaston told me the
+story of his fight, and I am sure young William will keep away from the
+canteen in future," said Alderbury kindly.
+
+"He will try, sir; I know that; but canteens draw very strongly at
+times.  There's the smell to contend with as well as the open door.  As
+William--that was my third--used to say: 'An open door will tempt a
+saint.'"
+
+"I want you to tell me all you know and have heard about Ananda.  Sit
+down, Mrs. Hulver," he said, giving her a chair.  "I don't see why you
+should stand.  Let us have a comfortable chat whilst we are about it."
+
+He noted the cloud of anxiety that seemed to overshadow her usually
+placid face and put it down to trouble over her son.  Her words
+confirmed his suspicion.
+
+"To tell you the truth, sir, I have had no time to consider Mr. Ananda.
+I have been so worried by young William's conduct."
+
+"You mustn't think too much about it.  You can't expect everybody to be
+a saint."
+
+"I don't, sir, and least of all young William from the way he has
+begun----"
+
+"What did you hear of Ananda in the bazaar?" asked Alderbury
+interrupting her.
+
+"As far as I can recollect the family ill-treated him, knocked him
+about with a stick and he ran away.  They didn't like his turning
+Christian.  As William--that was my third--used to say: 'What women
+haven't got to answer for, you may safely put down to religion.'"
+
+"It was supposed that he was in hiding somewhere on the college
+premises.  It seems the gardener heard of the arrival of your son and
+thought it was Ananda."
+
+"The gardener?" said Mrs. Hulver puckering her brow.  "So we may thank
+him for that budmash's visit.  I shall have to remember that."
+
+She thought of the roses and felt that the man had got even with her
+after all; but she kept her thoughts to herself.
+
+"In coming here he was taking a great liberty, I admit; but it was as
+well that he should satisfy himself that Ananda was not on the
+premises."
+
+"I should never have allowed him to go through my rooms if the master
+hadn't given him permission.  As it was I had to submit; but I didn't
+like it with young William lying there and the fever still on him.  As
+William--that was my first--used to say: 'Orders is orders when spoken
+by a superior.'"
+
+"Have you heard any spot mentioned as likely to be a hiding-place?"
+
+"There have been all sort of rumours, sir.  They said at first that he
+had gone to you; but a messenger was sent to your house to inquire; and
+as nothing had been seen of him there they changed their minds.  I
+don't wonder at his running away if they really did illtreat him.  As
+William--that was my second--used to say: 'Distance is the best remedy
+against the spite of evil men.'  You never saw such an evil-looking
+beast as that uncle was who came poking his nose into everything here.
+If young William had been himself and not so ashamed of his black eye
+he would have upped and at him and soon had him out.  I think the man
+himself was afraid that something of the sort might happen.  As
+William--that was my first--used to say when his relations came to stay
+without an invitation: 'Uninvited guests sit on thorns.'"
+
+"When they discovered that Ananda was not at my house what was the next
+suspicion of the family?"
+
+"That he had drowned himself in the well."
+
+"What gave rise to that notion?"
+
+"They found his cap in the well."
+
+"But not his body?"
+
+"No, sir; all the same his people believe that he is drowned and they
+have widowed his wife I am told.  I can't answer for the truth of what
+I hear in the bazaar.  As William--that was my first--used to say: 'An
+Indian bazaar is a nest in which many rotten eggs are laid.'"
+
+"You were very kind to Mr. Ananda, Mrs. Hulver," remarked Eola.
+
+"My kindness was of the fair weather sort.  I gave him food and plenty
+of good advice, before master put it in orders that no help of any sort
+was to be found in this house.  Mr. Ananda ate heartily and listened
+politely; but he didn't take my advice soon enough.  As William--that
+was my second--used to say: 'The man who stops in the valley will never
+get over the hill.'  I keep telling young William these sort of things.
+I hope some of them, specially about drink and fighting, will stay by
+him.  As William, his father used to say: 'The way to promotion doesn't
+lie through the canteen door.'"
+
+"If you should by chance find means of communicating with Ananda----"
+
+"And him down the well, sir!  Why, it's more than a week----"
+
+"Do you believe that he drowned himself, Mrs. Hulver?" asked Alderbury,
+his eyes fixed upon her round smooth face that held very little
+expression but general good-nature towards the whole world.
+
+"Well, sir!  There's his widow!  A widow is usually the sure sign of a
+man's death; though I have heard of the widow's weeds being put on too
+soon.  That was the case of a woman in our regiment whose husband was
+seconded for service in Africa.  He was reported killed; and just as
+she was getting over her trouble and was cheering up a bit, owing to
+one of the unmarried sergeants paying her a little attention, he came
+back.  She had to go into colours again before the black was half wore
+out, an expense all for nothing that she could ill afford, poor thing!
+But as William--that was my second--used to say: 'There's no plumbing
+the depths of a man's folly when he's a fool.'  He should have written
+and told her that he wasn't dead; but that meant sending her money.
+Perhaps Mr. Ananda may come back one day like Sergeant Thompson."
+
+"His uncle stopped me on my way here to ask if I knew anything of him.
+I could give him no information, and I take it that you can't help any
+more than I can."
+
+"That's so right enough, and if you see the budmash again you may tell
+him that his precious nephew's whereabouts has nothing to do with me."
+
+"Possibly; but as Mr. Ananda belongs to our faith, I certainly think
+that his welfare has a great deal to do with me," said Alderbury with a
+touch of severity.
+
+"Of course, sir; it's only right; it's your profession to look after
+the converts.  My business is housekeeping; and if the Christmas turkey
+was missing from the larder I should be in even more of a taking than
+you are over Mr. Ananda.  As William--that was my first--used to say:
+'Mind your own business and leave others to mind theirs.'  You are
+leaving us to-morrow, sir, I understand.  I've seen your men; they want
+to start off to-night with the cart if you have no objection.  The
+portmanteau you are using will go on the motor.  This will give them
+time to get to the mission-station before you arrive.  I told your
+servant that I thought he could be spared."
+
+"By all means let them go if they wish.  We shall all be glad to get
+home as we have been on a longer round than usual this time."
+
+"Yes, sir; as William--that was my third--used to say, when he got
+safely back after leaning a little too far in the canteen direction:
+'There's no place like home, even though it's only a pigsty, Maria, me
+dear,' that was his way of speaking, he was such a gentleman in his
+manners."
+
+"My house is not a pigsty, Mrs. Hulver," protested Alderbury, while
+Eola's eyes twinkled.
+
+"I'm not saying that it is, though there's no woman in it.  As
+William--that was my third--used to say: 'A house without a woman is
+only a house; it can never be called a home, however clever the man may
+be.'"
+
+"It is a fault that may be easily remedied," responded Alderbury.
+
+Mrs. Hulver glanced at him suspiciously, and then let her eyes rest
+upon Eola.
+
+"If you were a bishop you might say so, sir; but you're not a bishop,
+and begging your pardon for saying so, you're not likely to be if I may
+judge by your legs.  Gaiters would be impossible for you, even though
+you let your apron down a good four inches.  As William--that was my
+second and as soldierly-looking man as ever stepped--used to say: 'It
+isn't every figure that will fit every profession.'  I may tell you,
+sir, that by reason of my fullness of figure I was never chosen when I
+was young for the leading fairy in the regimental pantomime at
+Christmas.  I was given to fullness early; but excepting in the matter
+at the pantomime I never felt any inconvenience from being stout.  My
+husbands all admired stout women, and they said one after the other
+that fat in a woman may make her short in the breath, but it keeps her
+smiling.  Now you're given the other way and you've got just the figure
+for a missionary."
+
+"And so missionary I am to remain, eh, Mrs. Hulver?"
+
+"There's great virtue in knowing your place and your station, sir,"
+responded Mrs. Hulver, feeling that she was having the opportunity of
+her life to give the ineligible a bit of her mind.  "One day you will
+meet a lady, suitable for a missionary's wife; and though she may dress
+plain, she will soon turn your house into a home with curtains and
+carpets and decent house-linen.  She must be a good housekeeper."  Mrs.
+Hulver again let her eyes rest on Eola as though she were taking the
+measure of her shortcomings in that respect.  "And she must be sharp as
+a needle with the butler over the house accounts."
+
+"If I am ever a bishop, Mrs. Hulver, I suppose I need not be so rigid
+over the housekeeping qualities of my wife.  A bishop usually has a
+housekeeper."
+
+"Lor, sir, how you talk!  As if that would ever come to pass!  But as
+William--that was my third--used to say: 'Many people talk like
+generals but have to live like privates.'  There's no harm in your
+talking of being a bishop as long as you're content to live like a
+missionary.  I must be going; I have a lot to do."
+
+She bustled away, and with her went the smile that had rested on
+Alderbury's face.  Eola watching him noted the change.
+
+"What is it?" she asked.  "You are troubled.  Are you thinking of
+Ananda?"
+
+"Yes; and I am blaming myself," he replied quickly.  "There is so much
+I might have done to prevent this catastrophe if I had come when your
+brother called me.  Instead of coming I wrote.  It was not enough."
+
+"I don't believe in a catastrophe.  I don't believe that he is dead; I
+am sure Mrs. Hulver doesn't believe it or she would not be so
+indifferent.  What do you fear?"
+
+"That they have killed him between them."
+
+"They would not dare!  That would be murder and they would fear the
+penalty."
+
+"Unfortunately there is no penalty in the case of an outcaste, a
+convert to Christianity.  There might be some sort of a trial, but no
+judge in the State of Chirapore would do more than impose a slight
+punishment."
+
+"Come into the fernery and look at my palms and lilies," she said,
+rising to get her hat.
+
+She succeeded in dispersing the anxiety that had settled down upon him
+as he considered Ananda's case; and once more the convert was
+forgotten.  Her hands were buried in the fronds of a maidenhair when he
+said suddenly:
+
+"Don't do that; it isn't safe; there might be a snake hidden in the
+fern."
+
+She laughed, but did not move her hands.  Then he took them in his and
+drew her away from the pot where he feared danger might lurk.
+
+"Eola, will you come and make my house a home for me?  I want you; I
+can't live without you," he concluded with a strong man's passion.
+
+She looked up at him suddenly serious.
+
+"Think how far I fall short of the ideal!  I----  Oh, really you are
+the most masterful man I ever met.  Mr. Alderbury----!"  And then her
+head dropped and she surrendered.
+
+"Are you converted to my way of thinking," he said at last.  "Or, shall
+I continue my arguments?"
+
+"I am quite converted; quite!" she replied, and her eyes shone.
+
+"Then I may tell you a secret.  Whatever my figure may be in Mrs.
+Hulver's opinion, the gaiters and apron are looming in the distance.  I
+heard from England by the last mail that I have been nominated for a
+colonial bishopric;" and he named the diocese.
+
+"What fun it will be to see the dear old woman's face when she hears of
+it!"
+
+He drew her down to a seat among the ferns.
+
+"Never mind the old woman.  I want the whole of your attention.  There
+is so much to talk about and we have only till to-morrow," he said,
+already grudging the moments.
+
+"Anyway my conversion is complete."
+
+"Oh, is it?  I am not so sure of that.  At any rate I will see that
+nothing is left undone to make it so!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+Lunch was over; the car stood under the portico breathing gently like a
+tamed and willing monster held in a metal leash.  Alderbury, ready to
+start, was inclined to yield to a new temptation and linger in his
+leave-taking.  Wenaston politely stayed to see his guest off under the
+mistaken impression that it was a necessary courtesy.  At the same time
+his ear was open for the sound of the school bell.
+
+"I am sorry that you have not succeeded in the object of your visit,"
+he remarked, his conscience still troubling him in the matter of the
+'vert.
+
+Alderbury and Eola exchanged glances with an amused twinkle of the eye.
+If there had been failure on one point, on another the missionary had
+achieved a marked success.
+
+"We must leave it alone for the present," he said with a seriousness
+that was not assumed.  "When you are confronted with caste, you stand
+before invincible plates of steel.  To beat against them violently does
+more harm than good.  We must wait for the doors to open of themselves.
+There can be no forcing them open."
+
+"I hope the poor fellow is safe."
+
+"And I hope and pray that he is standing firm in the new faith,"
+responded Alderbury quickly.
+
+"I used to think that Ananda was weak in character."
+
+"Possibly he was; but after all that he has gone through his character
+must have strengthened marvellously.  I have known similar cases,
+although not among the higher castes.  The fervent religious instinct
+of the Hindu sustains him in circumstances where a less religious
+temperament would give way."
+
+"You believe that he is under his father's roof?"
+
+"From what I gathered yesterday afternoon in my inquiry of the town's
+people, I feel sure that he has not been allowed to leave the place."
+
+"Is he safe?"
+
+The question was asked with an anxiety the Principal could not hide.
+
+"Ah! that I cannot undertake to say.  All the same I have a strong hope
+that beyond petty persecution he is, comparatively speaking, safe.  My
+hope originates with Bopaul.  His manner gave me confidence.  I met him
+in the town; he spoke openly of his friend's disappearance, and seemed
+in no way concerned about it.  He laughed at the theory of suicide.  If
+he had any suspicion of a tragedy he would not show such indifference.
+I know for a fact that he is very much attached to Ananda."
+
+"They were together in England and they both felt Coomara's death.  I
+was with them at the time, if you remember.  The accident was a great
+shock to us all, and my nerves are not what they used to be.  The
+person least affected was Bopaul apparently," said Wenaston.
+
+"We don't know how it affected him; he has a peculiar nature, and hides
+his real sentiments under a careless flippancy which his actions
+frequently belie."
+
+"He certainly is a strange mixture of incorruptible orthodoxy and
+modern tolerance," assented Wenaston.
+
+Alderbury commented tersely and incisively on the new Hinduism of the
+Presidency towns, and compared it with the old-fashioned bigotry to be
+found up-country, where there was less European influence than in the
+great educational centres.  Native states with their native officials
+were even still further behind than British India, opposing religious
+reform with strong prejudiced conservatism.
+
+"I suppose you welcome this new tolerance as a step in the right
+direction."
+
+"Not at all," exclaimed Alderbury, his fighting instinct roused.  "It
+is more difficult to attack than the old intolerance; it is elusive,
+shifty, the outcome of the Brahmanical facility of adaptation which is
+the invariable resource of the Hindu philosopher in every religious
+innovation.  I would rather come to blows with the fanatical old
+Brahman than with one of these modern men whose policy is to agree with
+reservation."
+
+"So you turn to the untouchables."
+
+"Who form a sixth of India's population.  They offer us a wide field
+for our energies," replied Alderbury.
+
+"You are wise to give the caste people the go-by."
+
+The missionary was up in arms at once at the implication that he turned
+his back on any one.
+
+"Excuse me!  We don't give them the go-by.  We are ready watching for
+the moment when the thin edge of the wedge may be inserted without
+bringing disaster upon them and ourselves.  By the by, an odd thing
+happened yesterday.  Bopaul to my astonishment asked me if I would
+befriend his sister, the widow of the man who was killed in the railway
+accident."
+
+"Coomara!  I had forgotten that he married Bopaul's sister."
+
+"It was no more than a betrothal.  Bopaul explained that his sister was
+not happy at home; and that it would be a relief to the whole family,
+in his opinion, if she were removed.  Then he laughed as though the
+attitude of his relations amused him.  He proposed that she should be
+placed in our mission school."
+
+"Does the family consent?" asked Wenaston in some surprise; for no one
+understood the prejudices of the high caste families of Chirapore
+better than himself.
+
+"Apparently his parents are too indifferent to the widow's fate to care
+whether she throws herself down the well or disappears off the scenes
+in any other way.  I told him to speak to his people about it; and if
+they consented I would willingly take her."
+
+The school bell rang and Wenaston rose from his chair.
+
+"I must be off.  Good-bye, Alderbury," exclaimed Wenaston.  "Come again
+as soon as you can; a warm welcome will be ready for you."
+
+The hand-clasp expressed even more than the tongue, as the two friends
+parted with the knowledge that before long a closer and more intimate
+tie would be forged to bind them together.
+
+Five minutes later Alderbury stood on the steps of the verandah ready
+to enter the car.  He turned to Eola once more.
+
+"I haven't said good-bye to Mrs. Hulver.  Have you told her our news?"
+
+"Not yet; she has been too much occupied with her son to think of
+anything else.  She was to go off early this morning with young
+William; and she asked me not to expect her back till this evening.  I
+might have let her into the secret last night; but I heard after dinner
+that she had gone to bed."
+
+"I don't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.  I am sure that
+she will forbid the banns," he replied in comical concern that did not
+deceive Eola.
+
+"She will quote the wisdom of the three departed Williams in support of
+her action," she added, and her laugh had a new ring of happiness in it.
+
+The car slid noiselessly down the drive and turned into the great
+southern road.  Alderbury leaned back on its cushions luxuriously, his
+thoughts busy with the woman he had just left.  He had been lifted
+along on the wings of destiny.  He had come to Chirapore to hold out a
+helping hand to a fellow creature in distress, and had found his own
+happiness as a reward.
+
+Having taken the step he was of too strong a character to entertain any
+doubt as to its wisdom.  However short she might fall of the ideal
+missionary's wife, she was his desire and he was hers.  This new
+knowledge and certainty lifted him into a sphere of joy he had never
+before touched.
+
+After a few minutes indulgence in purely selfish dreams, Eola with all
+she meant for him was put resolutely aside.  He took out the bundle of
+letters that awaited him at the college house and proceeded to read
+them afresh, making notes of the replies on the envelopes.
+
+The car moved along the smooth road at a moderate pace.  Now and then
+the eyes of the occupant ranged over the undulating landscape, resting
+with appreciation on the patches of green forest covering the crests of
+the hills, and the stretches of rice fields interspersed with
+plantations of areca-nut palms in the valleys.
+
+Few travellers were on the road.  A string of country carts crept
+slowly towards the town, bearing the produce of the rich smiling land
+to market.  The car shot by with a deep hum that set the wild-eyed
+bullocks snorting and backing under their yokes; and transformed the
+drivers into kicking fiends.  In vain they sought to inspire the
+terrified cattle with courage and confidence by a liberal application
+of the toe.  It was not until the car disappeared in the distance, and
+its weird hum was lost to the ear that the bullocks were recalled to
+order and a sense of duty, and the drivers were able to drop back into
+idle clucking at their beasts.
+
+Six miles of quiet travelling came to an abrupt end.  The native
+chauffeur pulled up at a signal from a traveller on the road, walking
+in the same direction as the car was moving.  Alderbury, who was
+absorbed in the composition of a letter to the head office of his
+society, looked up, and to his amazement recognised Bopaul.
+
+"I am going to ask you a great favour, sir," said the latter after the
+exchange of greetings.  "I have my sister here.  Will you be so good as
+to give her a seat in the car; and to take her to your mission-station?"
+
+Alderbury glanced beyond the speaker and caught sight of the shrinking
+figure of the widow.  Her saree was drawn over her bald head to hide
+the mark of shame and disgrace.  Her eyes were cast down, and the hand
+that grasped the coarse cloth to keep it in position trembled.
+
+"Of course you take the responsibility upon yourself, Bopaul," said
+Alderbury looking at the girl with pity born of an intimate knowledge
+of what widowhood meant for one so young.
+
+"Certainly, sir," responded Bopaul quickly.
+
+"She will be at perfect liberty to return if the family desire it.  It
+does our work no good to have even the semblance of abduction."
+
+"You need have no fear of trouble, sir.  My people will make no
+objection whatever.  If her husband were alive it would be quite
+another matter; but with a widow!" he smiled with gentle cynicism,
+"whoever heard of any regret being felt at the absence or even the
+death of a Hindu widow?"
+
+"Very well; I will take your word for it that all is well, and that I
+am only carrying out the general wish of the family.  Let her get in
+the car at once, as I must be going on my way, or I shall be benighted."
+
+"She will sit by the chauffeur."
+
+"There is plenty of room inside," said Alderbury, pushing cushions and
+rug into some order.
+
+Bopaul went to the side of the road where his sister stood and said a
+few words in a low tone.  She did not reply, but made a movement of the
+head showing that she understood his directions.  Then he took her by
+the hand and led her to the car.
+
+"Get in, little sister.  You will be quite safe with the missionary;
+and if you are not happy with him, ask him to write and tell me so.  I
+will come myself and fetch you back, but I know you will not want to
+come back; you will find your happiness there; not here."
+
+"It is understood by your family that she will probably become a
+Christian if she remains with us," said Alderbury who was a little
+puzzled by Bopaul's manner.
+
+"She is at liberty to do as she pleases.  Of one thing I can assure
+you; I can answer for her willingness to work at anything that will
+help to earn her keep."
+
+"And her name?"
+
+"I call her Mayita; but she will probably prefer to be called by some
+other name when she enters the mission," replied Bopaul with another
+smile.
+
+"She has no luggage of any kind, no bundle of clothes?"
+
+"Widows own nothing.  They are deprived of every possession in the
+world.  Even their hair is taken from them," her brother answered.
+
+During this conversation Mayita sat silent with her head bent and the
+saree veiling her face.  Suddenly the cloth was pushed backwards and
+she leaned towards Bopaul both hands extended.
+
+"Brother, may the gods reward you for your goodness to the poor widow!"
+
+"Good-bye little sister.  Take heart and be brave.  Now go, sir, and
+believe me that all will be well."
+
+The car glided forward and left Bopaul standing there.  He watched it
+until nothing was visible but the cloud of soft dust that hung like
+smoke in the warm air of the afternoon.
+
+Then he turned round and set off at a steady pace homewards.  Again the
+characteristic smile appeared and he murmured to himself:
+
+"In the name of friendship; not in the name of religion!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+Alderbury addressed a few words to his companion in the language of the
+country and received monosyllabic replies which gave him no
+encouragement to persevere in his efforts at making conversation or to
+extract information.  He concluded that she was a shy and frightened
+member of a zenana where very little liberty was allowed.  It would all
+come right in time; she would lose the shy self-consciousness with
+education.
+
+From his companion his thoughts went to her brother.  He distrusted
+Bopaul's cynicism, mild and harmless though it might be; but he could
+not help admiring the force of character in the man who had struck
+whilst the iron was hot.  If Bopaul had not handed her over personally
+and assured him that all was well, Alderbury would never have ventured
+to take the girl away.  The parents had probably been urged to give a
+consent, and before they could withdraw it their son had taken action
+to carry out the intention.  It was evident that he revolted against
+the Hindu system of widowhood, and with his modern enlightenment
+desired reform.  This was his method of protest and it was to be
+commended.  It was also in its way a mark of the philanthropy that is
+entering the Hinduism of the present day, one of the attributes of
+Christianity which Brahmanism is ready to adopt into its system and
+claim as its own.
+
+More than two hours passed during which Mayita, shrouded in her saree,
+nestled in the corner of the big motor car.  Alderbury returned to the
+perusal of his letters and forgot her very existence.  So still and
+silent was she that she might have been one of the leather cushions
+instead of a human waif.  They passed the boundary of the native State
+and sped through British territory.  In another half hour they entered
+the little town that had been Christianised.  Alderbury put away his
+letters and kept his eyes on the road, that he might not miss the
+smiles and nods of the villagers as they welcomed him back.
+
+The mission house was a large rambling bungalow with thatched roof and
+wide verandahs.  In the same compound stood the school and orphanage.
+At a little distance was the church shining with marble whiteness in
+the afternoon sun.
+
+As the car drew up under a porch made of rough square stone pillars and
+palm-leaf roof, Alderbury thought of the handsome portico of the
+college house, a very different building.  He jumped out of the car
+with his habitual impetuosity forgetting his companion.  Mrs. Hulver's
+words were in his mind.  A house without a woman was only a house.  It
+was quite true although his careful servant had not forgotten to
+prepare a late afternoon tea.  He noted the table set in the verandah
+with the earthen tea-pot and the thick cups that bore the mark of many
+camping expeditions through his district.  Very different, was the
+table from the dainty arrangement in another verandah, where the figure
+of the tea-maker was set in a background of ipomea and bignonia.
+
+"Bring tea quickly, boy," he said as he passed on towards his
+sitting-room in search of the letters that should have come by the
+morning post.
+
+The servant glanced after him and then held up his hand to arrest the
+figure that followed.
+
+"Wait, lady, until the master calls," he said respectfully; and Mayita
+stood listening and trembling in the verandah.
+
+As Alderbury entered his sitting-room a man rose from a chair and
+advanced to meet him.  He was dressed in European clothes although he
+was a Hindu.  Over his eye was a recently healed wound.
+
+"Ananda!" cried Alderbury, astonished beyond measure.
+
+"The same, sir," was the reply.
+
+"How did you get here?  We made so sure of your being still under your
+father's roof that I can scarcely believe my eyes."
+
+"By the help of friends.  It is a long story----"
+
+His words were checked by the sound of a cry.  The widow refusing to be
+detained any longer by the servant, rushed forward past Alderbury,
+never stopping till she had fallen at Ananda's feet.  In a moment he
+was on his knees by her side forgetful of the missionary and all else.
+
+"My wife! my pearl! my beloved!  How did you manage to escape? how did
+you get here?  But what have they done to you my beautiful lotus?  They
+have cut off your hair! and this cloth! what does it mean?"
+
+The words poured from his lips with a string of eager questions which
+Dorama could only answer with sobs.
+
+"Who do you say this woman is?" demanded Alderbury in some bewilderment.
+
+"She is Dorama, my wife, sir!  And see what they have done to her, poor
+child!  Not content with nearly beating the life out of me they have
+widowed her! the brutes!  This is my uncle's doing.  I will be even
+with him.  He shall answer for it with his life!  I will kill him as he
+would have killed me; and I will widow his----"
+
+"Gently, Ananda!  The Hindu in you dies hard.  You do well to be angry,
+but don't mistake anger for revenge."
+
+The hand that was laid upon his shoulder held in check the tempestuous
+wrath.
+
+"Forgive me, sir.  Wrong done against myself I can forgive--but this!"
+He looked down at his wife.
+
+"They believed that you had drowned yourself, so successfully have you
+been hidden," said Alderbury.  "And they considered themselves
+justified in their action."
+
+Ananda lifted his drooping, but happy, wife to her feet and kept his
+arm about her.  His anger melted and he forgot his wrath in the
+consciousness of her presence.
+
+"How did she come here," he asked in calmer tones.
+
+"I brought her," replied Alderbury.
+
+"You, sir," repeated Ananda in surprise.
+
+"Yes; your friend Bopaul must have interested himself in your affairs;
+for it was he who met me on the road this afternoon and begged me to
+take his widowed sister to the mission house and keep her there.  He
+deceived me and took me in completely."
+
+A smile dispersed the frown of anger that had rested on Ananda's face.
+
+"Ah, the clever Bopaul!  It was well planned.  He is a friend worth
+having!" he said warmly.
+
+"I'm afraid he is--a--a perverter of the truth!" blurted out the
+missionary.
+
+"A splendid liar!" agreed Ananda enthusiastically.  "I know of no one
+better.  It is a great accomplishment in a Hindu to lie usefully and
+successfully."
+
+"But it is altogether wrong in a Christian."
+
+"I know it is!" replied the 'vert with a sigh of contrition.  "I am
+afraid I have not been altogether straightforward myself of late."
+
+"Tell me all about yourself and how you managed to escape," said
+Alderbury kindly, knowing that it would be best for him to talk it out
+instead of brooding over his wrongs, and perhaps being incited by his
+wife to further ill-will in considering the persecution she had endured
+for his sake.  "When did you arrive?"
+
+They seated themselves, Ananda retaining his hold on his wife as though
+he still feared lest she should be snatched away from him again.  She
+sank upon the floor at his feet, resting an arm upon his knee with a
+comfortable sense of security which went towards compensating her for
+some of the unhappiness that had lately fallen to her lot.  Alderbury
+called for the tea to be brought into his sitting-room.
+
+"I arrived this morning."
+
+"By train?"
+
+"No, sir; I came by bullock cart.  Let me tell you the story from the
+beginning.  After your call at my father's house I was allowed to see
+my wife in the presence of the guru, who paid us a visit to inquire why
+the restitution ceremonies had not been performed.  He tried to come
+between myself and my wife; but I was determined not to permit anything
+of the kind.  Our interview was not pleasant.  After it was over, and I
+had returned to my room I resolved to put an end to the uncomfortable
+state of affairs and leave my father's house."
+
+"You were right in your intention."
+
+"I made a mistake in not accepting your offer of help, sir.  It was an
+error of judgment.  My intention was to right my own battle without
+assistance."
+
+"I understand; but how did you ultimately get away?"
+
+"I was to all intents and purposes a prisoner in the house, and escape
+was no easy matter.  I found a friend in the pariah I despised so much.
+By his advice I made the contents of my boxes into bundles and he
+undertook to take them to Biddapet, a station about ten miles out of
+Chirapore in this direction.  I was coming here, of course.  The
+luggage was gone and I was spending what I hoped was my last night in
+that miserable little room when I was awakened by a touch on my hand.
+It was my wife.  She came to me in great distress to tell me that our
+son was dead."
+
+There was a pause which Alderbury did not break.  Ananda went on with
+his story.
+
+"I persuaded her to throw in her lot with mine.  It was a long walk to
+Biddapet, but she thought she could manage it if I gave her time.  We
+started off before it was light and reached the wall of the compound.
+Unfortunately we disturbed a pariah dog.  It barked and I threw a stone
+at it.  It shrieked and the noise must have been heard in the house;
+for we were followed by our uncle and four other members of the family.
+They caught us up and we were powerless in their hands.  There was
+nothing to be done but to go back, which we did; and when we reached
+the house my wife and I were again separated.  That night I was
+severely beaten; and during the frightful ordeal my uncle never ceased
+to call upon me to recant.  How I lived through it I don't know.  God
+in his goodness gave me strength to bear the pain and to hold fast to
+Christ.  I did not take my punishment with the meekness of the Great
+Master.  I fought for my liberty.  They were too many and too strong
+for me, however.  I was held down, and it seemed at the time as if they
+must break every bone in my body."
+
+Up to that point Ananda had used the English tongue.  He laid his hand
+on his wife's and asked in native speech whether she knew that he had
+been beaten.
+
+"Aiyoh! husband!  I suffered and died with thee, beloved lord!"
+
+Her eyes filled with tears and she kissed the hand passionately.  He
+continued in the vernacular which Alderbury understood.
+
+"After they left me I fainted.  I don't know how long I lay there, but
+the next thing I remember was water being dashed into my face.  I tried
+to protect my eyes, but the movement gave me great pain, and I cried
+out; I was so terribly bruised.  Someone spoke to me in a whisper and
+told me to be quiet.  Once more my friend in need was the sweeper; the
+man you saw, Mr. Alderbury, when you paid me a visit."
+
+"You were too sick to think of caste any longer, I imagine."
+
+"Indeed, I was!  I let him do with me as he would; and I was grateful,
+more grateful than I can express.  He rubbed my wounds with some
+soothing ointment and staunched the blood; for I was bleeding a good
+deal.  Then he gave me a draught with opium in it.  It deadened the
+pain and made me drowsy and indifferent to all that was happening to
+me."
+
+"Good man! worthy of the name of Christian though he is only a
+heathen," commented Alderbury with warm approval.
+
+Dorama did not take the same view.
+
+"Husband, did you really accept the services of the sweeper?" she
+asked, her wondering eyes lifted to his with concern for his welfare.
+
+"Yes, my lotus flower, I did; and I owe him my life.  I should have
+died of exhaustion and starvation if I had been left untended all that
+night and the following day."
+
+"What happened next?" asked Alderbury as Ananda showed a disposition to
+end his tale there.
+
+"Before I continue my story I must ask you to keep my secret.  I have
+given a promise that it is to be told to no one but yourself; and I
+pray you to respect our confidence."
+
+"'Our confidence'?"
+
+"Mine and Mrs. Hulver's."
+
+There was a pause; and then, as enlightenment came, Alderbury said in a
+low voice:
+
+"So then, you were young William?"
+
+"The sweeper carried me wrapped in a sheet; for I could neither walk
+nor stand.  It was between two and three o'clock in the morning when I
+was hoisted on to his back in a half unconscious state, my senses too
+stupefied to feel much pain, and I was taken to the college house.
+Mrs. Hulver was roused from her sleep by the sweeper woman--who works
+there, and is a relative of the man--and I was handed over to the
+housekeeper.  I have since called her mother, so good and kind has she
+been to me.  Under her care I recovered."
+
+"And through her good offices you have come to me.  How did you get
+here?  By train?"
+
+"No, sir; I came in your own cart and brought my luggage with me,"
+replied Ananda.  He continued his story.  "When the sweeper found that
+I did not turn up as I promised at the little station, he carried the
+bundles back to his own house and came hot-foot to learn the reason of
+my failure to keep the appointment.  There he found me in that sorry
+plight."
+
+"I am still puzzled," said Alderbury after a little thought.  "Mrs.
+Hulver's son was seen by Miss Wenaston lying on the cot in her
+sitting-room; and he was wearing uniform, the uniform of the regiment."
+
+"When I regained consciousness in her room, I found myself dressed in
+the uniform that belonged to her son's father.  She had kept it, and
+though it was very old and a loose fit, it served as an excellent
+disguise."
+
+"She is a wonderful woman!"
+
+"The kindest! the best!"
+
+Ananda stopped with sudden emotion, his heart too full for words.
+
+"I suppose this means that all communication between yourself and your
+family comes to an end," remarked Alderbury.
+
+"I think not, sir," replied Ananda in a decisive voice.  "Why should I
+be banished from my home like a criminal because I have changed my
+religion?  I shall not allow my wife to go back.  There is no reason
+why she should run any risk of insult; but I shall go back later on,
+when the irritation against me has died down, and see my father and
+mother."
+
+"Don't put yourself in any unnecessary danger.  Past experience should
+make you careful," said Alderbury.
+
+"It has been dearly bought and is not likely to be forgotten," replied
+Ananda, with a touch of bitterness.
+
+"And remember also that in Chirapore you, as an outcaste and Christian,
+have no civil rights."
+
+"I am not likely to forget what is the only stain upon its government
+as a model native State.  I should not think of returning to live
+there; but I mean to go some time or other to see my mother."
+
+The old obstinacy was still to the fore.  Behind it stood no longer the
+weakness and vacillation of youth, but the noble courage of a man who
+had been tried in the fire of affliction and not found wanting.
+
+"And now I want to know how your wife managed to get away and meet me
+on the road."
+
+"Tell your story, beloved.  I, too, want to hear how you escaped and
+who befriended you," said Ananda.
+
+"The friend was the same Englishwoman who helped you," answered Dorama
+timidly; but gaining courage she continued: "She arranged it all with
+Bopaul.  There was no difficulty; for since I have been thus"--she
+touched her coarse cloth--"no one has cared how I spent my time nor
+where I wandered.  Mayita came every day to see me and we passed hours
+in your little room, my lord, where I found this!"  She pulled out his
+glove and showed it to him.  "At sunset yesterday Mayita brought me a
+message from Bopaul to say that my husband was alive and safe on
+British ground, out of reach of our uncle's spite.  Oh, how I rejoiced
+at the good news! but I was obliged to hide my feelings.  Mayita told
+me that if I wished to see him again, I was to keep my secret and
+follow every direction sent by her, without asking any questions.  This
+morning as soon as I could leave the house I went to the little room
+and there I found Mayita waiting for me.  She said that I was to go at
+once to Bopaul whom I should find in the compound.  He was there.
+Without a word he took my hand as he takes his sister's and together we
+walked away.  Any one seeing us from the house would have thought that
+he was leading his sister home, for my saree was drawn over my head;
+and Mayita has grown nearly as tall as I am."
+
+"Did no one notice you, my pearl?"
+
+"Who would let his eye rest on the unlucky widow any longer than he
+could help?  Those who might have seen turned their heads away."
+
+"Your wife may thank your enemies for what they did," remarked
+Alderbury.  "Without her widow's dress she could never have escaped."
+
+"Bopaul brought some food with him, for we had a long way to go.  We
+walked steadily for an hour.  Then he made me sit down and rest.
+Afterwards we walked again, and my heart beat fast when I heard the
+call of the big fire carriage; but I grew quiet again when I sat by Mr.
+Alderbury's side, and we flew along the road like the wind.  I felt
+that no one, not even our uncle, could catch me and take me back.  Ah,
+husband, how I suffered when they did this to me!"
+
+She passed her hand over her bald head.  Ananda stooped and kissed the
+shaven crown.
+
+"Beloved, it will soon grow again and be more beautiful than ever."
+
+Alderbury slipped away unnoticed.  He was full of sympathy for the two
+poor souls who had passed through so much pain whilst for himself all
+had been as he desired.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+Mayita had a long day in the little room by herself, but the time
+passed quickly.  Bopaul provided her with a packet of cakes and sweets
+to serve instead of the midday meal which she would be obliged to miss.
+He explained to his mother that they were going some distance and would
+not be home till sunset.  No surprise, therefore, was caused by
+Mayita's absence.
+
+She had brought the bridegroom and bride with her, and she spent a very
+busy day marrying the happy wood-apple to the satin-white datura
+blossom plucked fresh from the tree on the way there.  The oleander
+bush and gourd supplied the flowers required for the guests; and as for
+the feast, no pretence was needed.  The cakes were real; the sweets
+were of the best; and as she ate them Mayita's enjoyment was abundant
+enough for herself and the numerous guests represented by a goodly
+array of sticks and stones.
+
+She lived in a little kingdom of her own; and for the time she was dead
+to that cold outer world which treated her so unkindly.  In the
+beautiful domain of her imagination her widowhood passed away and she
+was the mother of the bride or bridegroom according to her fancy.
+Various sounds in the distance met her ear, but she paid no heed to
+them.  The jangle of bullock bells only stirred her sufficiently to
+bring to her remembrance the fact that the bridegroom should have a
+gilded bullock coach in his procession.  It sent her on a careful
+search through the yard for something that would represent the coach.
+
+The sound of the bullock bells caused a greater sensation in the house
+than in Ananda's little room.  They broke suddenly upon the household
+an hour before the midday meal, as the cattle plunged up the
+carriage-drive and were stopped with much sighing and snorting before
+the front verandah.
+
+The door of the coach was opened by a firm unhesitating hand, and out
+stepped no less a person than Gunga herself.  She bore no sign of
+widowhood in her appearance.  Her upright figure was swathed in a new
+silk saree that, like Mrs. Hulver's Sunday dress, "stood by itself."
+She wore a purple satin jacket and a crimson silk petticoat.  The rich
+gold embroidered border of the saree held the wealth of colour
+together, and saved the whole from tawdriness.
+
+With the dignity of a ranee of the olden days she moved up the steps of
+the family mansion and entered her house.  A cry of surprise greeted
+her as the various members came hurriedly forward to make their
+salaams.  Sooba's wife when she had recovered from her astonishment was
+not behindhand with her welcome.  Her husband was out, she informed her
+sister-in-law, but he would return to dinner.
+
+Gunga's eyes were everywhere; she led the way to the kitchen, where she
+looked into the seething pots and bubbling curries.  She found nothing
+wrong and expressed general approval of her sister-in-law's management.
+Having satisfied herself she left the kitchen.  Sooba's wife followed
+closely at her heels deputing another woman to take up her duties.
+Mats and cushions were brought, and the two sisters seated themselves
+in the courtyard to have a chat before the food was served.
+
+"How does our excellent elder brother spend his time?" asked Sooba's
+wife, burning with curiosity to know if the invalid were much worse.
+
+"He has taken over charge of the farm."
+
+"It must be hard work for one in such poor health."
+
+"Not at all!" snapped Gunga, who did not like these personal inquiries;
+they were a breach of etiquette, and likely to bring bad luck upon the
+subject.  "The health of all the family at the farm is excellent.
+Strongest of all is the big master; he is like a man of thirty instead
+of fifty, and he is busy all day long with the rest."
+
+"This is good news, sister.  My husband will be rejoiced to learn it.
+We feared that you were having much anxiety."
+
+The halting speech betrayed her real feeling, and Gunga was not
+deceived.  With keen enjoyment of the discomfiture of the other she
+gave more details of her husband's restoration to health.
+
+"I felt sure that you and our little brother would be pleased to hear
+of the improvement," she concluded.
+
+"How is the silk farm doing?" asked the other, hoping to defer the
+cross examination that she knew was pending.  She felt unequal to the
+task of explaining satisfactorily all that had occurred of late.  Sooba
+himself must account for his various unwarranted assumptions in his
+stewardship.  Gunga was quite ready to talk of the silk business with
+its new developments.  She retailed at length the history of its
+culture on the farm--all they had done and all they hoped to do.  She
+described their plans for further improvements by which their profits
+might have increased and the industry expanded.
+
+"The manager leaves us in a week's time, and my husband will continue
+to superintend until he returns six months hence."
+
+The spirits of the listener rose at this information; it was highly
+satisfactory as far as Sooba was concerned.  Considering that there was
+no longer any fear apparently of Pantulu's death, the next best thing
+for his younger brother's interests would be a prolonged absence with
+the creation of new interests outside Chirapore city.  In the midst of
+their conversation Sooba himself appeared.  He had seen the bullocks
+tethered in the compound, but had not heard who the visitor was.  He
+thought it might be a merchant come from a distance to buy silk or
+cotton or rice; and with the intention of creating an impression of his
+own importance he swaggered in, speaking with a loud strident voice
+that could be heard all over the house.
+
+"Wife!" he called.  "Where are the men of the family!  Why isn't the
+food ready?  What are your lazy women about in the kitchen?  We shall
+have to send some of them out into the fields if they can't do their
+work in the house.  Don't they know that the master is hungry and would
+eat?"
+
+His wife scrambled to her feet and went to meet him.  Before she could
+say a word he recommenced his scolding.  "A new bamboo is wanted for
+this lazy family; and if the mistress will not use it, the master will
+take it in his own hand.  I warn these idlers that the stick will not
+fall lightly or sparingly."
+
+A figure appeared suddenly behind his shrinking wife, tall, stern and
+commanding, with no fear in her eye.
+
+"Neither the master nor the mistress of this house requires a new
+bamboo unless it be for the back of a presumptuous younger brother,"
+she cried in a tone that startled Sooba more than a little.  He fell
+back a pace or two as he was confronted by the angry Gunga.
+
+"Sister!  I did not know you were here!  When did you arrive?"  Then as
+he received no reply he continued turning to his trembling wife.
+"Woman, have you seen to the comfort of the big mistress?  Have you
+provided the curry she likes with plenty of green chutney?"
+
+She was not to be taken in by this solicitation for her personal
+welfare, and she replied sharply:
+
+"I have everything I want.  As the house is mine I have only to give my
+orders.  Sister, go to the kitchen and see that the rice is properly
+strained before it is served out."
+
+Sooba's wife gladly made her escape, and left her husband to bear the
+brunt of the storm that she guessed was not far off.
+
+"You have taken too much upon you, brother.  We did not make you master
+of the house, but steward in our absence.  It seems that you have
+misunderstood your position."
+
+"I have done my best," replied Sooba sullenly.  "From all we have heard
+it is probably that the time is not far distant when I shall be the
+real master, since the son you bore your husband has become an
+outcaste."
+
+The taunt only added fuel to the fire that was already burning within
+the breast of the mother.
+
+"The mention of my son reminds me to ask where he is.  News was brought
+to the silk farm which I could scarcely believe.  It was said that you
+had driven him away, and that he has left his home without saying where
+he has gone."
+
+"My fool of a wife has been telling you tales," he replied, scowling in
+a manner that promised ill for her.
+
+"I have learned nothing from your wife.  I asked no questions but kept
+them for you.  The news was brought to me by the men who returned from
+carrying the last bales of silk to the go-downs in Chirapore.  They
+heard it in the bazaar; and I have come to inquire into its truth and
+to learn first and foremost where my son is."
+
+She let her eyes rest upon him with a keen inquiry there was no
+evading.  Much as he disliked the close catechising he was obliged to
+reply.
+
+"We have every reason to believe that he has thrown himself down the
+well."
+
+"Why should he be tempted to do such a thing?"
+
+"He was angry and offended because we gave him the punishment ordered
+by the swami.  It was light and less than he deserved----"
+
+"I have heard another story.  Where is his wife?"
+
+"She is here in the house."
+
+"I don't see her in the kitchen, where, as my daughter-in-law, she
+should be superintending the women."
+
+"Since she has become a widow she leads a retired life as is only
+fitting," explained Sooba, with increasing uneasiness.
+
+"A widow! then the body of my son has been found!"
+
+Sooba shifted from one foot to the other as he answered.
+
+"His body is still in the well."
+
+"Has any one seen it?"
+
+"His cap was seen and recovered from the place where it hung about a
+foot above the surface of the water."
+
+"And on the strength of that you have performed the widow rites.  It
+appears to me that you have acted with unwarrantable harshness towards
+my son and his wife.  There would have been time for the ceremonies
+when my son's body was found."
+
+"He is dead!  I assure you he is dead!" protested Sooba.  "It is the
+firm conviction of other members of the family whom I have consulted
+that he is dead."
+
+"And if it be true, is it for the wife of the younger brother to strike
+the bangles off the arm of the heir's widow?  But I tell you she is no
+widow!  My boy is alive; he had too much spirit to stay where he was
+ill-treated; and too much courage to drown himself.  You were wrong to
+beat him as you did."
+
+"It was with your consent."
+
+"That a small punishment should be given to satisfy the swami lest he
+should curse us.  You have done more; you have gone beyond your orders.
+Where are the jewels?"
+
+"I have them in safe keeping, sister," he replied, beginning to tremble
+for the consequences.  She had it in her power to turn him and his wife
+out of the house.
+
+"After we have eaten you shall hand them over to me together with the
+moneys that have been paid in by the silk and cotton merchants."
+
+She dismissed him as the household was waiting for dinner.  The
+men--who were served first--could not begin to eat until the
+representative of the family had offered the daily oblation to the
+deity and said grace.
+
+When the meal was over Gunga summoned Sooba giving him no time for the
+after-dinner nap claimed by the more important members of the family.
+
+"Let him bring the jewels," she said to his wife.  "Come yourself and
+listen to what I have to say.  It concerns you both."
+
+Sooba had an unhappy half-hour with his sister-in-law.  He found
+himself called upon to account not only for the jewels and every rupee
+paid in but also for every anna paid out, the amount of rice taken from
+the granaries, the curry stuffs that had been used, the produce of the
+dairy and garden.
+
+The wardrobes and clothes' chests were emptied, the contents displayed
+and missing sarees accounted for.  The contents of the strong box
+containing the family jewels was examined, even to the numbering of the
+loose gems and pearls that formed part of the wealth belonging to
+Pantulu.
+
+It was hard to be made to disgorge when he had looked upon the coveted
+treasure as his already; but Sooba and his wife had no alternative.
+Dorama's jewels were handed over down to the smallest silver toe-ring.
+Gunga examined them critically, separating several of the choicest and
+most valuable from the rest.  They were not put back in the strong box,
+but were placed in another and more portable jewel case.  This she
+locked, and slipped the key on her own bunch which was tied to her
+betel-bag.
+
+"Are you taking the jewels away with you?" asked Sooba.
+
+"They are required at the silk farm," she replied shortly.
+
+"For yourself or for the manager's wife?"
+
+"Neither; they are to be worn at a wedding I am arranging.  They will
+adorn the bride."
+
+"Is she a relative that you honour her thus?"
+
+"She will be when the ceremonies are completed.  I am making a second
+marriage for my husband, since our son is lost to us, and I am not
+likely to give him another.  The girl is young and strong and will bear
+us many sons."
+
+Sooba's jaw dropped in astonished consternation and speech failed him.
+His wife was more ready with her tongue.
+
+"It is an excellent plan, sister; one that I had thought of adopting
+myself since the gods have not blessed me with children.  Is your
+husband strong and well enough to play his part?"
+
+"You should see him!  He is like a young man! you would think the years
+had gone backwards instead of forwards, he is so full of strength and
+energy."  Gunga handled the remaining jewels tenderly as she put them
+back in the strong box.  "Although the girl's people are not poor, her
+jewels are nothing compared with these that belonged to my son's wife.
+This gold ornament"--she picked up the richly embossed disc that
+Sooba's wife had envied and already appropriated--"will sit well on her
+hair.  It used to look so well on Dorama's head."
+
+"When is the wedding to be?" asked Sooba, his heart sinking within him
+as he contemplated the future.
+
+"In three days' time.  After the wedding I shall return here to live,
+and my little sister will remain on the silk farm under the care of the
+manager's wife.  I shall go over frequently to see them, and when the
+manager comes back six months hence, my husband and his wife will join
+us here.  Now I wish to see Dorama, and to know why she did not come to
+the kitchen for her food when the rest of the family had dinner."
+
+Some of the women were sent in search, but the widow could nowhere be
+found.  The basin of curry and rice put aside for her was untouched.
+One of them recalled the fact that she went frequently to the room
+formerly occupied by her husband.  Gunga rose to her feet.
+
+"I will go there myself; you need not follow; I wish to see her alone."
+
+Her word was law and they dared not disobey.  She passed through the
+garden and out into the compound taking the path by which the men had
+gone on that dreadful night with their evil intent.  To her surprise
+she heard a voice murmuring in the room.  Unseen by the busy
+match-maker she watched the child at her play.  Then she entered and
+the girl started violently as though she had been discovered in some
+act of flagrant wickedness, as, indeed, from a Hindu point of view was
+the case; for was she not enjoying a few hours of perfect happiness,
+and upsetting the Hindu notion that widows have no right to be happy.
+
+"Most excellent lady, I was brought here by my brother and told to stop
+till he returns," she said, fearing blame and perhaps punishment for
+trespassing where widows were unwelcome.
+
+"You are doing no harm, child.  Your brother is Bopaul, is he not?"
+
+"No one ever had such a good brother!  To-day he is being good to the
+poor unhappy Dorama; but I am forbidden to say anything about it; so if
+your excellency would know what he is doing you must wait till he
+returns."
+
+"How soon will that be?"
+
+"Perhaps in another hour.  They had to walk until they found the
+carriage that was to take Dorama away."
+
+"Where was she going?"
+
+"Ah, that I must not tell; but think how pleased her husband will be
+when he sees her!"
+
+"Is he waiting on the road?"
+
+"I think not, most honourable lady, because he is safe somewhere with
+the missionary; but where I may not say."
+
+"Do you know the place?"
+
+"No, excellent mother, not yet.  My brother will tell me this evening
+when he comes back."
+
+"He is coming here?"
+
+"To take me home.  I hope he will be in before it is dark.  I should
+not like to stay in this ugly little room at night.  This was the place
+where they beat Ananda.  The market women say that he was nearly
+killed; and that his new God must have come Himself and carried him
+away; he was hurt so that he could not stand.  Ah, bah, that Sooba Iyer
+is a bad man, the market women say!  I love listening to the market
+news.  When I am strong and big I shall ask them to let me go as a
+coolie to carry one of the baskets.  Then I shall hear of all the
+deaths and weddings and births and beatings and accidents and scoldings
+and widowings."
+
+"Go on with your play, child.  I will see your brother when he comes
+for you," said Gunga.
+
+Mayita had another hour to wait before she heard his call.  As she came
+out of the yard she caught sight of the tall stern woman going across
+the compound to meet him.  She stopped at the entrance till the
+interview was over, the timidity of the widow and her fear of giving
+offence holding her back.
+
+"I want to ask you if you know anything of my son," said Gunga going
+straight to the point.
+
+"He is staying with Mr. Alderbury, the English missionary."
+
+"And his wife?"
+
+"She has joined him with my assistance.  After all that has happened I
+felt that I must lend her the help of a friend, whether I gave offence
+to your honourable husband or not."
+
+"It will not be regarded as an offence.  Why did they leave home in
+this secret manner?"
+
+"Can you ask, most excellent lady?  The treatment they both received
+from their uncle was sufficient to drive them to the other end of the
+earth.  I wonder they lived through it."
+
+Gunga's lips closed tightly, and her eye burned with the fire of the
+tiger who sees her cubs ill-treated.  There was a pause and she asked:
+
+"Is he well?"
+
+"He has nearly recovered from his injuries."
+
+"I want to see him!"
+
+The unpremeditated words burst from her lips with passionate longing.
+It was the cry of the mother whose maternal love could not be stifled
+nor killed by anger.  Her instinct thrust down every barrier, and she
+cried aloud for her offspring.  The lonely woman was giving up her
+marital rights to another for the sake of her husband's religious
+prejudices that she respected and believed in thoroughly.  She devoutly
+hoped that a son would be born to him who might bring comfort and
+reassurance concerning the future.  Her act of renunciation made a
+heavy demand upon her.  She had already seen how the man's eyes had
+turned with desire towards the younger woman in whom lay so much
+promise; and although she was still mistress of his house, their unity
+was ruptured for ever.  The Hindu woman understands polygamy and, as in
+Gunga's case, sees the urgent necessity for it; but she is not
+indifferent.  She tolerates it as unavoidable; at the bottom of her
+heart she hates and loathes it.  This introduction of a second mate is
+at the bottom of all sorts of evil in the zenana, of jealousy and
+hatred on the part of the superseded; of arrogance and tyranny on the
+part of the interloper.
+
+Gunga was battling with jealousy even though she herself had arranged
+what was to take place; and she turned to her son with a longing that
+would take no denial, renegade and apostate though he was to his family
+and religion.
+
+"Tell me where he is so that I may go to him!  After all, he is still
+my son, my only child, my dearly loved boy!" she pleaded.
+
+Bopaul recognised the maternal cry and he answered sympathetically.
+
+"A letter addressed to the mission station will always find him.  Let
+me remind you, honourable lady, that it is not Ananda who has created
+this breach between his parents and himself.  It was always his hope
+that his father would continue to treat him as a son; that some way
+might be found by which the ties of blood might be maintained without
+complete banishment from home.  You have so acted that any compromise
+was impossible.  He has done well in removing himself out of reach of
+injury and insult; and in forsaking a country that gives him no
+protection as a citizen."
+
+Gunga's proud head drooped.
+
+"Perhaps we were too hard on the boy.  If we had had more time for
+thought it might have been different," she said, in a broken voice.
+
+"Shall I give him a message when I write?" asked Bopaul whose curious,
+modern philanthropy made him ready and almost anxious to heal the
+breach.
+
+"Ah, do, my son!" replied Gunga, with sudden hope.  "Tell him that I
+will come soon and talk to him at the mission house.  I have so much to
+say.  There is work for him at Bombay.  Tell him that though he is lost
+to his father, to his religion, to the State--though he is an outcaste
+and an exile, his mother remains his mother still.  Nothing, nothing
+that gods or men may devise, can ever deprive a woman of the rights of
+motherhood when once a child is born to her!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+Mrs. Hulver was busy cleaning and folding an old uniform.  The door of
+her room was closed and locked whilst she was thus occupied.  With many
+sighs she passed the brush over the well-worn cloth and smoothed out
+the creases.
+
+"An iron would do it good; but it must go for the present as it is.  It
+won't do for the uniform to be seen just now.  To think what the master
+would say if he knew that the poor young man was in the house all the
+time!  He would give me a month's notice as sure as my name is Maria
+Hulver!  But there, as William used to say"--the William in her mind
+was the wearer of the uniform in the old days--"'What the eye doesn't
+see, the heart doesn't grieve for.'  God forgive me for loading up
+young William's shoulders with that canteen racket, and him as innocent
+as a new-born babe!  But as William--that was my third--used to say:
+'If the dhoby donkey were shown half the load that was meant for its
+back, it would die of terror.'  Young William shall never know if I can
+help it that he was the hero of a canteen fight."
+
+She wrapped the uniform in an old linen towel, tucking in bits of
+camphor on every side, and laid the relic of by-gone days in the bottom
+drawer of her wardrobe.  A knock at the door startled her.  She closed
+the drawer hastily, put away the brush and went to see who called her.
+
+"Miss Eola!  Come in, miss.  Were you wanting to speak to me?"
+
+It was the day after Alderbury's departure.  The car had come back
+bringing a letter for Eola, the first she had received since his love
+had been declared.  She read it in the privacy of her room, lingering
+over the closely-written sheets as Mrs. Hulver had lingered over the
+folding and putting away of the uniform that had belonged to the father
+of her boy.
+
+The housekeeper was still in ignorance of what had passed between Eola
+and the guest.  Her mind had been too full of anxiety over Ananda's
+welfare to admit of any curiosity concerning the behaviour of other
+people.  She knew that she ran a risk in extending the helping hand to
+the persecuted 'vert; but she had carried it through without faltering.
+
+Without any explanations she had ordered his luggage to be placed in
+the missionary's cart and told the driver that he was to start that
+evening, a command that was gladly obeyed.
+
+While the dinner was still proceeding Mrs. Hulver and her
+scarlet-coated companion left the house presumably for a walk.  A jutka
+was picked up outside, and directed to take the same road as that
+followed by the cart.  The pony went much faster than the slowly moving
+cattle, and soon overtook and passed them.
+
+Half an hour later the missionary's servant was roused, and to his
+intense astonishment confronted by the Principal's housekeeper.  By her
+side stood a native gentleman dressed in European clothes and wearing a
+neat turban.  As Alderbury's servant had never seen Ananda he did not
+recognise Mrs. Hulver's companion.
+
+"You will carry on this friend of mine to the mission station," she
+said, "and you will tell the master when you see him that I gave you
+the order."
+
+The servants all understood the varied modulations of her voice.  In
+this case it was comprehended, though not expressed, that a breach of
+her confidence would be resented, and bring the individual into her
+black books.  At the same time there was a chink of silver that
+purchased silence and secured obedience.  Ananda took Alderbury's place
+on the mattress.  The servant seated himself near the driver and the
+cart started on its homeward journey.  By daylight it should have
+crossed the border and be safe in British territory; and by nine
+o'clock it should be home.  As no warning had been given to Ananda's
+family it was not likely that he would be pursued or discovered; and
+Mrs. Hulver saw the car swallowed up in the darkness of the night with
+a sigh of relief.
+
+She walked back to the place where she had directed the jutka to wait
+for her, carrying the uniform, which had been exchanged under cover of
+the darkness for the tweed suit, hidden under her cloak.  She was back
+at the college house before eleven.
+
+The following day, on which she was supposed to be seeing young William
+off by the morning mail was spent at the house of a Eurasian friend in
+the town.  Eola, suspecting nothing and occupied with her own affairs,
+asked no questions; and it was not till the morning after Alderbury's
+departure that she and Mrs. Hulver met.
+
+The housekeeper accompanied by Ramachetty and the cook presented
+herself for the usual ritual of ordering dinner.  During the
+housekeeping business Mrs. Hulver confined herself rigidly to the
+subject of the menu.  She dared not trust herself to speak of anything
+else lest her tongue should slip and betray her.  The secret must be
+kept at all costs from Dr. Wenaston and from the people in the town.
+The sweeper might be trusted.  He had been a faithful friend all along,
+and one day his fidelity would be rewarded by Ananda.  Of that she was
+sure, although the man did not look for any recompense.  All that he
+had done had been the result of his love for the young master he had
+known and served in time past.  The change of faith on the part of
+Ananda did not affect him.  He knew nothing of the intricate
+ceremonialism of the caste Hindus.  His religion was simple animism,
+the propitiation of the power of evil.  If he had had any opinion to
+offer, it would have been that his master had come under the influence
+of an evil spirit, and would do well to make an offering of blood.
+Mrs. Hulver considered that the rest of the servants might also be
+trusted.  The real identity of young William had never been known to
+them, and he remained Mrs. Hulver's sick son to the end.
+
+Eola intended making her confession after the servants were dismissed;
+but Mrs. Hulver departed quickly in their wake and defeated her
+purpose.  She determined not to put it off and went to the
+housekeeper's room to inform her of the engagement without further
+delay.
+
+With the packing away of the uniform Mrs. Hulver drew a breath of
+relief.  Anxiety was at an end, a load off her mind.
+
+"Take a chair, miss.  The room is still untidy from having young
+William here; but the sweeper and I will soon get it straight when she
+comes back from her dinner."
+
+"It looks quite neat," said Eola inconsequently; she was wondering how
+she was to open the subject uppermost in her mind.  "Your son got away
+all safe yesterday morning, I suppose."
+
+"Yes, miss!"  Mrs. Hulver would not trust herself to more than the
+simple affirmative.
+
+"I am afraid you are rather tired after all the nursing you have had."
+
+"I took a good rest yesterday.  After young William left I went to see
+my first husband's cousin, Mrs. de Silva.  She was in a fine way about
+her girl who has refused to marry the man chosen for her.  The silly
+child--she's only sixteen--has set her heart on a young Englishman who
+is out of employment.  I did my best to cheer her up and to argue with
+the girl."
+
+"You are always doing something for others.  You must think of yourself
+now and rest."
+
+"I'm happier when I am doing for somebody else, miss.  As William--that
+was my second--used to say: 'You'll find happiness for yourself when
+you're hunting it for others.'"
+
+"That's quite true."
+
+There was a pause.  Mrs. Hulver received a sudden shock.  Her eyes had
+fallen on her husband's helmet which was lying on the camp cot.  She
+had forgotten to put it away.  Eola saw it and observed:
+
+"Your son has forgotten his helmet, surely."
+
+"That isn't my son's, miss!  It belonged to his father.  I got it out
+to show him the difference the authorities have made in the pattern.
+They are always changing, and it must cost the government something
+first and last.  I have kept that old helmet as a momentum of my boy's
+father."
+
+"I suppose out of all the three you liked him best."
+
+"Well, miss, he was my choice.  My first was my mother's choice, and my
+third chose me.  You see, William, my second, left me with something
+else besides his helmet and that was young William."
+
+Eola's attention was wandering and Mrs. Hulver was pleased to see that
+the helmet had not excited her curiosity.
+
+"I want to tell you something; it is about Mr. Ananda," said Eola.
+
+Mrs. Hulver started, but was not to be caught off her guard.
+
+"To tell you the truth, miss; I am getting rather tired of Mr. Ananda's
+name.  I dare say he has got safely away from Chirapore by this time if
+he isn't down the well.  As William--that was my third--said when the
+barrack sweeper led him home from the canteen: 'Misfortune will find
+you queer friends in queer places.'  If Mr. Ananda is still alive he
+has probably found some friend, queer or otherwise, to help him."
+
+"You are right.  When Mr. Alderbury reached home Mr. Ananda met him at
+the door."
+
+"Lor, miss! you take my breath away!" exclaimed Mrs. Hulver expressing
+discreet astonishment.
+
+"Like your husband in his difficulty, it was the sweeper who proved his
+friend.  He took him to some hiding place, and threw his cap down the
+well to deceive his people and put them off the scent.  When the
+excitement of his mysterious disappearance was over, the man contrived
+to smuggle him out of the State of Chirakul into British territory,
+where he is quite safe.  At the mission house another surprise awaited
+Mr. Ananda.  His wife managed to escape and find her way to Mr.
+Alderbury's station.  I thought you would be pleased to hear the news,"
+concluded Eola with reproach in her voice.
+
+"So I am, miss," was the warm response.  "I am very glad to know that
+he is safe.  He wasn't safe from the spite of wicked men as long as he
+remained in Chirapore.  His only hiding place was the sweeper's house
+where no man of caste would venture.  As William--that was my
+first--used to say: 'A rat that has but one hole is soon caught.'  Mr.
+Ananda will need no hiding place as long as he stays with Mr.
+Alderbury."
+
+"I have some more news for you, Mrs. Hulver.  Mr. Alderbury was so much
+impressed by what you said about a house being no home without a woman
+in it, that he has asked me to make a home for him of his house--and I
+have consented."
+
+"There, now, if I haven't gone and made a mess of it after all!"
+exclaimed Mrs. Hulver, more than a little disturbed.  "As William--that
+was my second--used to say: 'An ounce of sense is worth a pound of wit;
+better slip with the foot than the tongue.'  To think that my foolish
+tongue which must need sharpen itself at his expense should have put it
+into his head to ask you to do that!  I should never be reconciled to
+your marrying a missionary, miss; not if I lived to be a hundred!"
+
+"Don't worry about it; it's all right; I am not going to marry a
+missionary," said Eola.
+
+"Not marry him! miss! whatever do you mean?" cried Mrs. Hulver in
+horror.  "You can't keep house for a man except as his housekeeper or
+his wife--that is to say, if you have right-minded principles.  As
+William--that was my second--used to say: 'Bad as the best may be; it
+is better to be poisoned in your blood than in your principles.'"
+
+Eola reassured her.  "It is quite all right, I am going to marry him,
+and you are going to take care of the doctor for me."
+
+"Then I don't understand what you mean, miss, about not marrying a
+missionary," said Mrs. Hulver, completely puzzled.
+
+"Mr. Alderbury is giving up missionary work.  He has been offered a
+bishopric."
+
+"And him with those legs!"
+
+"The legs don't matter if they belong to the right sort of man, as is
+the case here," said Eola, prepared to do battle for her lover.
+
+"Mr. Alderbury, my Lord Bishop!  I can't get over it; it is so
+surprising!"
+
+"You haven't congratulated me and wished me good luck," Eola remarked
+in an aggrieved voice, which she knew would win over her faithful
+housekeeper.
+
+"I'm sure I beg your pardon.  I congratulate you with all my heart.
+Fancy you marrying a bishop!  Who would have thought it!  It's no more
+than you deserve all the same.  Dear me!  How strangely things turn
+out! you taking a missionary and finding yourself marrying a bishop!
+and Mr. Ananda coming to life again and finding his wife a widow! and
+she escaping all through losing her husband and being widowed!  As
+William--that was my third--said when he fell into a prickly pear bush
+and just escaped being seen the worse for liquor by the colonel:
+'Maria, me dear,'--he was such a gentleman in his speech, he
+was!--'Maria, me dear!  You never know your luck.'"
+
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.
+
+
+
+
+
+  BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR
+
+
+  HISTORY OF FORT ST. GEORGE, MADRAS
+  ON THE COROMANDEL COAST
+  THE NAUTCH GIRL
+  THE FOREST OFFICER
+  A MIXED MARRIAGE
+  THE SANYASI
+  DILYS
+  CASTE AND CREED
+  THE TEA-PLANTER
+  THE INEVITABLE LAW
+  DARK CORNERS
+  THE UNLUCKY MARK
+  SACRIFICE
+  THE RAJAH
+  THE MALABAR MAGICIAN
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Outcaste, by F. E. Penny
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OUTCASTE ***
+
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