"You would enjoy the training, I am sure."
*'It's well worthwhile, I do assure you."
I watched the elephants in amazement. It seemed so strange to see those great lumbering creatures who with one stroke of a massive foot could trample a man to death while being guided to work.
At length we had come to the small station where we were to alight. Clinton took the bag which I had brought with me, and a similar case of his own, and we stepped out of the train.
There was a great babble of voices. Men were bowing to us.
Clinton said: "Back at last. With my wife."
The men laughed, which I gathered was a form of welcome, and muttered something which sounded like mem-sahib.
Clinton held my elbow.
There was a cart similar to the one we had used from the port to the railway station. There seemed to be a sea of brown faces all around us.
"It's a very short distance," said Clinton. "We use the railway a
lyS The Spring of the Tiger
great deal. Thanks to us it is one of the most prosperous lines in the country."
Through the greenest of land we drove. A steamy heat was in the air. On either side of the road, tree ferns rose, some, I calculated, as high as twenty-five feet; great scarlet rhododendrons grew wild. I noticed plants such as I had never seen before and I learned later that they were endemic to Ceylon. We came out of the road, made dark by the thick foliage which it had been cut through, and I had my first glimpse of the plantation. Green and glistening shrubs covered the hill slopes for what seemed hke miles and miles.
Clinton surveyed the scene with satisfaction.
We rode on and there on the hillside I saw a cluster of buildings. My heart sank. Was this my new home? Most of the buildings were one story high.
"My workmen's homes mostly," said Clinton, "and some of the storing houses. Your father's—I mean yours—is only a mile or so away. You'll see my place in a moment. This patch of jungle ahead separates the two plantations. It makes a pleasant prospect too. One would grow a little tired of nothing but tea."
We had come to what looked like a wood in the middle of the tea slopes; and we took a road through it. After a few moments we came to the house.
It was surrounded by a garden lush with green shrubs, many of them bright with gaily colored flowers, the like of which I had never seen before. The house was brilliantly white among the greenery and heavy vines climbed over its walls. It was long and two stories high, L-shaped, with numerous outbuildings.
A young woman ran out, chattering wildly and bowing profusely. She was dressed in a deep-blue cotton sari and when she smiled she showed beautiful teeth. She looked at me very
curiously. "This is Leila," said Clinton to me. "Youll find her very
useful."
Leila smiled, crossed her hands across her breast and bowed her
head. "First tea, Leila," said Clinton.
*Tes, master." The big dark eyes removed themselves from me with great reluctance. "I bring soon," she added.
"Thank you," I said. "That will be welcome."
I was feeling very emotional. I was after all being introduced to my new home and my dominating feeling was one of apprehension. It was due to the strangeness of everything, I told myself, and the realization that the past, which included Toby, was indeed behind me. I was now being launched into the unknown.
We went into a hall and our footsteps rang out on the floor of stones arranged in intricate mosaic, the color of lapis lazuli and chalcedony. A light table and two chairs—bamboo, I guessed—were in the hall.
"Welcome home," said Clinton. He looked at me warily. "Later I'll show you everything. But first refreshment. We need it. You will taste tea such as you have never tasted before. Fresh from my storing house."
He had slipped his arm through mine and, drawing me close to him, kissed me.
"Oh, Sarah," he said, "this is a dream come true. You here with me. It was what I wanted from the moment I set eyes on you. As soon as we've had that tea I am going to show you around the place. It's bigger than it appears. I've taken a great deal of trouble to furnish it as I wanted it. My uncle built it when it became clear that coffee was a disaster instead of a profitable industry and he decided to venture into tea. It was a gamble then, I can assure you, but labor was cheap and he built the house. I have added to it since. It is not Ashington Grange nor my own family home, but it is suitable for this place and considered quite fine here, I assure you. We'll have some good times here."
He had led me into a large room with a stone floor and light wood furniture—teak, rattan and some Chinese lacquer; there were chairs, a table and a wickerwork settee on which were many brightly colored cushions.
"The drawing room," he said. "See the folding doors. They open into a room of similar size which is our dining room. For entertaining we open the doors and we have quite a sizable room— you could call it a ballroom."
"Is there much entertaining?"
"Just now and then. There's a club in Kandy and another in Colombo . . . but that's a bit far for us. Now for that tea."
Two boys had brought it in. Their big dark eyes surveyed me curiously. Clinton introduced me as "your mistress." They bowed solemnly when they had set down the tray. They wore the traditional white shirts and trousers and their feet were bare. The young woman Leila had followed them in.
"All well, master?" she asked.
Clinton nodded. "I want you to look after your mistress, Leila," he said.
"Oh yes, yes." She nodded, smiling as though it would be her greatest delight to do so.
He laid a hand on my arm. "Leila will see to everything. She will be a sort of liaison ofl&cer between you and the others . . . just at first."
"That's good," I said.
Leila bowed again and went out.
"She's a good manager," he said to me, "and like many of the Singhalese she delights in having a little responsibility. Her father, Nankeen, is my head man and her brother Ashraf works on your plantation. They're an interesting family. Come and sit down and I'll pour your tea for you."
When we were seated side by side on the settee he put an arm about me. "It's all so strange, isn't it?" he said. "And you are uncertain. It'll be all right. I tell you it will. You'll see."
He spoke as though he were all-powerful and could mold the future to his desires. I had the feeling that there might be something in that. In fact, since we had arrived in this country I had begun to get a glimpse of the power he held.
He took up his cup and tested the aroma. "You'll see the tea tasters at work," he said. "There's a lot you have to learn about your plantation, Sarah. Now can you detect the aroma this tea gives off? Delicious, don't you think?"
I said it was and indeed it did taste different from every cup of tea I had had before.
When we had finished he wanted to show me the house and I was naturally eager to see it.
On the lower floor, besides the hall and the two connecting
rooms, were spacious kitchens, stone-floored with big white cupboards. Everything had been freshly cleaned and painted. I saw several servants—boys like those who had brought the tea and two men and two women. They all bowed obsequiously when Clinton presented them to me, and I was sure I would never remember all their names and which was which. They were very curious about me and they were clearly terrified that something might displease Clinton.
He is indeed the master, I thought, and this is his territory.
There was a laundry room and a cooling room where there were boxes of ice which I imagined were very necessary to preserve food in this climate.
Beyond the kitchens were the servants' quarters. I was taken into them. They were spotlessly clean and I guessed had been made ready for this inspection, which they knew would come.
We went upstairs where there were several bedrooms.
"This is ours," said Clinton with pride. My eyes went to the bed, which was large and covered with a silken embroidered
counterpane. Mosquito nets hung from the canopy and I noticed that across all the windows was a fine wire netting. The floor was of dark wood and covered with mats of blue and green to match the embroidery on the counterpane. It did not look as if it had been designed for a bachelor and I wondered if Clinton had given instructions as to how it was to be done before he went away. On a table was a bronze Buddha about a foot high, seated in the lotus position. The face was lifelike and the eyes seemed to follow me rather sardonically, I thought.
Clinton noticed me looking at it. "You don't like it.'*
"It looks evil in a way."
"Evil! The Buddha. Certainly not. I hope you don't dislike it too much. It was given to me by a friend. The servants would think it would mean bad luck to the house if I took it away."
It was rather silly of me to be affected by a bronze figure. I excused myself. I was in a rather emotional state I supposed. I kept thinking of the old days and my outings with Toby and I was beginning to feel homesick already.
At one end of the room were two steps leading to a dais which
was curtained off. Behind this were two hip baths and long mirrors on the three walls. On a table stood a basin and ewer.
"They have obeyed my orders," he said. "They have done well. Do you like it, Sarah? I planned it for you."
"It's beautiful," I replied, "but I can't believe you would plan for a woman you had never seen."
"l knew it was going to be you."
He put his arm through mine and took me to the other rooms on this floor. There were several bedrooms. All the beds had canopies from which mosquito nets hung and over all the windows was the fine wire netting.
"We have the occasional guest," he said. "Usually when we have a ball—a small one, of course. Mostly planters, their wives and families. The English community. As some of them come from miles away it is sometimes necessary for them to stay the night. Rubber planters, coconut growers, those who produce the rice. Then there are the shippers and those who manage the railways, the civil servants. Ceylon has become a flourishing island since it became a crown colony. You have a great deal to learn about the place."
"I am longing to see my own plantation."
"Ah yes, you have a great deal to learn. Never fear. I shall be beside you. I'll look after your interests. Seth Blandford is quite a good manager and he is after all your brother-in-law, but. . ."
"Most of all," I interrupted, "I want to see my sister."
"When you are rested, I'll drive you over. It's only a mile or so, and even shorter if you take the cut through the jungle. We call it the wood, but it's jungle really. Lots of this land was, of course, before it was cleared and cultivated. We still can't ride through the wood—the foliage is too thick—but there are paths for walking. I shall drive you over in a kind of dog cart we have. It's drawn by one horse and it's easy to manage. You'll want to use it yourself eventually, I imagine. You can always ride over but I daresay you'll find the dog cart easier sometimes."
As I was longing to meet my sister I declared I was not in the least tired. I changed my traveling clothes for a light oatmeal-colored silk dress and a flimsy wrap that I might not be too ex-
posed to the sun and put on one of the straw hats I had brought with me.
I saw at once that the dog cart would be easy to handle and that I should find it a good way of getting about.
We drove through the plantation and in due course came to the house that had been my father's and which was very similar to the one we had just left.
A servant hurried up to take the horse and dog cart and Clinton leaped down and helped me to descend. My heart was beating wildly at the prospect of at last seeing my half sister.
I turned to the house. A slight figure was standing in the doorway, a dainty creature, a head shorter than I—but then I was tall —and I thought I had never seen anyone so exquisite.
She was wearing a sari of pale lavender silk with silver thread etched on it. She walked toward me with such grace that I immediately felt awkward. Her black hair was caught back from her brow into a knot and would hang down almost to her knees when loosened, I imagined. She held out her little hands. On her arms tinkled about twenty thin silver bracelets.
When she spoke I was overwhelmed with surprise. "I'm Cly-tie," she said.
For a moment I could find no words. The first that rose to my lips unspoken were: But you can't be my father's daughter. You're not English.
I stammered: "My ... my sister. I have so much wanted to meet you."
She said in a beautiful voice, and her English was as perfect as it could be and none would have guessed that she was not as English as I: "How glad I am. It is right that we should know each other. We are sisters . . . though but half. We have lost our dear father. That should bring us close. It has been a house of mourning but that must change now that you have come."
We regarded each other wonderingly. I must have looked as strange to her as she did to me. But at least she had expected me to be English.
"Clinton," she said, "congratulations to you. You have a very attractive wife."
"Thank you, Clytie. I agree. She was reluctant to take me at first but I persuaded her."
"We all know of your powers of persuasion," she answered. "Please come with me, Sarah, I want to show you my son. Little Ralph is longing to meet you."
"He is her pride and joy," Clinton told me.
"He would be anyone's pride and joy ... if they were lucky enough to have him for a son," she replied.
Her voice had a lilting quality. She fascinated me completely. There was only one solution. My father's first wife had been Singhalese. That was why Aunt Martha never mentioned her.
As though I had spoken aloud, she drew my attention to a portrait on the wall. It was of a beautiful dainty woman in a blue sari with flowers in her black hair.
"It is my mother," she said. "She died when I was very young, I know her only through this picture. There is much we have to say to each other, you and I, Sarah. But first come to see my son."
We mounted the stairs to a nursery—a room with light draperies, as dainty as Clytie herself.
"Sheba!" she called. "Sheba! Ralph! Where are you?"
A door was flung open and there was a whoop of delight as a small boy came running toward her. He seized her about the knees and I thought she looked so fragile that he might knock her over.
"Here is my Ralph!" she cried. "Ralph, what would you say if I told you you had an aunt who has come to see you?"
There was no doubt of his English blood. His hair was dark but not the blue-black kind which is never seen in England; his eyes were dark too but definitely brown. His skin was faintly ohve but there was pink color in his cheeks. He was a beautiful child, sturdy and healthy. I guessed he must be about four years old.
"I never had an aunt before," he said, regarding me with a certain suspicion.
"Well you have one now," I told him. I held out my hand and he shook it.
"Have you come from England?" he asked.
I admitted this was so.
"My grandfather went to England and he never came back. He went to heaven instead."
"Yes," I said slowly. "But I have come and I am glad to find I have a nephew here."
''Am I a nephew?" He laughed to himself, liking the idea.
Then I was aware that I was being steadily watched. A woman was standing in the doorway. I was not sure of her age but she was by no means young. She was dressed in a green sari and her black hair was drawn back and caught in a large knot at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were large, black and mysterious.
''Here's Sheba," said Clytie. "She nursed me and has now turned her attention to Ralph. Sheba, this is my sister. Sheba remembers you, Sarah."
Sheba's sari rustled as she approached. Her movements were swift, quick and lithe as a cat's.
"Oh yes," she murmured. "Remember well. Little Miss Sarah. But you were little"—she held her hand a foot or two from the floor—"so little when you went
away."
I wished I could remember her but I couldn't.
"Sheba knows how happy I am that you have come to stay," said Clytie. She was smiling at me, warmly, lovingly. I thought her enchanting but instinctively I felt I had to be wary of Sheba. Although she was respectful, something in her manner told me that she resented my coming.
"Sheba," said Clytie, "they will stay to dinner. Tell them in the kitchen." Clytie looked at me almost shyly. "We hoped you would be here today but we can never be sure. We are half prepared. I wanted you to have your first meal in this house. This is where you were bom. In this room, wasn't it, Sheba? I was bom here too. We are indeed sisters. I hope Chnton won't mind my monopolizing you . . . just at first."
"My dear Clytie," said Chnton, "you know it is my wish always to please you." He was smiling at her with that appreciation which most men would feel in the presence of someone as beautiful as my half sister.
Ralph had sidled up to me and had taken my hand. 'Tou're my aunt," he said and seemed to be overcome with mirth.
"I want to show her the garden," said Clytie.
"Missee Clytie and her plantsl" mumbled Sheba. "She'd have
them all growing over the house I reckon if Master Seth didn't stop it. We'd have the house full of creepy crawlers."
She spoke in the rather musical singsong in which the Singhalese render the English tongue.
"Clytie is so excited to meet you, Sarah," said Clinton. "It is rather a momentous occasion, admittedly. Dear Clytie, we have traveled far. We arrived only today. Sarah has scarcely looked at anything at all. Her great desire was to meet you. Let us eat this meal you have for us and then I am going to take Sarah back. There is tomorrow, you know. You can show her your gardens then and talk yourself hoarse, but we do need an early night and a good rest. One really should after traveling."
I felt an inclination to oppose him and said: "I want to see the garden. I long to talk to you."
She came towards me. She did not walk nor did she run; it was as though she glided. That incredible grace moved me deeply. She caught my hand and smiled up at me.
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