by F. E. Penny
CHAPTER XXV
"How have you been getting on lately?" asked Eola as she sank into acane lounge in the verandah.
Alderbury stopped in his perambulation, gathered up a number of letterslying on the table where the tea was usually spread and made them intoa neat packet. None of them required an immediate answer; they couldall wait until he reached home. He intended to make the most of hisone day's holiday. He had the whole morning before him; Wenaston wasengaged till lunch, and Eola presumably had nothing to do but entertainher guest. It was a pleasant prospect, and he was conscious of a senseof luxury that did not often enter his life. He revelled in theunwonted leisure of the hour and took his time to reply. He seatedhimself in a chair by her side, and half turned so that he might have afull view of her face against the green creeper-covered trellis thatshut 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 heldhis people dear, from the blackest little ball of a baby brought to himfor baptism to the white-haired old woman; who persisted in calling himfather 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 alittle sympathy on the part of the woman, not so much for his work asfor himself personally.
"Do tell me their latest," she said softly.
"It is not for publication. On your honour you won't give me and mypeople away to a missionary magazine?"
"I promise."
"Let me whisper my troubles in your ear, then. I have had a botherover a bell tower. Four months ago I sent five hundred rupees that Ihad collected for the purpose to the native pastor in charge of thelittle church at Ramapet; and I solemnly enjoined on him by letter thenecessity of beginning the building of the tower at once. I have beento 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 theproperty on which the church stands in the form of a wall; and in thecorner 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 churchcouncil composed of the most important of the native parishioners metme and pointed out how wise they had been, as wise as serpents to usetheir own expression. The church compound is already under cultivationand the water will not only produce a crop, I should say rather, twocrops in the year, but will also be a source of income as it ispurchased by the villagers at so much a bucket. They are all delightedwith themselves for their cleverness. The bell-tower, they say, willcome all in good time. Meanwhile they have erected a little shelter ofmats 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 amisappropriation of funds."
"Was the wall needed?"
"Badly! Nothing could be done with the land to make it productiveuntil 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 temporarydeflection of the money?"
"I should never have given it! They knew it and took good care not tolet me into the secret. What am I to do, pray? Where is my bell-towerto come from? It will take two or three years before they can refundthe money. Some of it was given by an enthusiastic lover of bells, whowas charmed with the idea of assisting to build the tower. Bells, hedeclared, were missionaries themselves and exercised a Christianisinginfluence. What am I to say to him? He won't see any Christianisinginfluence 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 Ifelt towards the buffaloes and goats before the wall round thiscompound was completed. After all the bell does very well for thepresent in the peepul tree."
"Your morals are hopelessly inferior--I won't say bad--and you wouldmake a very weak mission agent," he said, shaking his head over hershortcomings.
"Should I? Then I mustn't marry a missionary. Think how awful itwould be if while he was away preaching to the heathen, I remained athome encouraging his converts to misappropriate the mission funds."
"He would have to take you with him; it wouldn't be safe to leave youbehind."
They both laughed; then he became serious again.
"But I say, really, joking apart; you know they have put me into no endof a difficulty by their cleverness, and I am at my wits' end to thinkhow I am to rectify it."
"I know!" cried Eola, with a sudden inspiration. "Haven't you anyother funds in hand from which you could borrow and get the tower builtat once?"
He jumped to his feet as was his way when excited and strode up anddown the verandah.
"You are every bit as bad as my people! That's the very thing theyhave done and which I am deprecating; and you suggest that I shouldfollow their example. I can see that I have a duty to perform. I musttake 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 amusementmingled with something else. "Do try; I should like to see what yourmethod 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 anxietyto direct the conversation into a fresh channel.
"Sit down, Mr. Alderbury, and tell me more about your converts," shesaid hastily.
"Very well, I will defer the conversion till a more suitable time andtalk--of marriage."
Again she was startled. She glanced at him as he dropped into the seathe had vacated so abruptly. His self-possession was in no waydisturbed.
"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 theagricultural settlement wants to marry the daughter of a distantrelative. The girl is still a heathen. Of course I had to say no, andcounsel patience. We don't allow mixed marriages. I left him rathersad, as he knows the girl and is attached to her. Being pariahs theyhave 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 tobe."
"Then they ought to be married; and I think it is very horrid of you toforbid the wedding."
"The girl must become a Christian first; then the wedding bells shallbe 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 thegirl marry first and be converted afterwards?"
"That would never do. I always begin with conversion;" he looked ather and paused with half a smile; then he added: "Marriage must followconversion."
"Oh, must it!" she replied with a challenge in her voice. "You take agood deal for granted."
"A common fault with men of my profession, I fear," he replied with adecision 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 outinto the sunlit compound where the brilliant colours of the geraniumsand bignonia creeper contrasted strongly with the pure snow white ofthe eucharis lilies; where butterflies that rivalled the flowers intint fluttered like wind-driven petals across her vision, and the sweetscent 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 thestory from her first hand. I will send for her."
A message was taken by the butler who met the housekeeper as shereturned from her walk in the compound. She went into her room toremove the mushroom hat and dispose of her umbrella; and she took theopportunity of telling young William that she had made arrangements forhim to leave at daybreak the following morning. She entered the frontverandah, 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, Ishould be pleased if you could come in half an hour. He is just goingto have his bath. A dressing-down from your point of view will be verygood for him. As William--that was my third--used to say: 'Don'tconfine yourself to big guns in dealing with an enemy. Bullets speakquite as plainly as cannon balls though they are neither so big nor sonoisy.'"
"I don't think your son wants any lecturing from me. No doubt he isfully repentant after all that has happened. Dr. Wenaston told me thestory of his fight, and I am sure young William will keep away from thecanteen in future," said Alderbury kindly.
"He will try, sir; I know that; but canteens draw very strongly attimes. There's the smell to contend with as well as the open door. AsWilliam--that was my third--used to say: 'An open door will tempt asaint.'"
"I want you to tell me all you know and have heard about Ananda. Sitdown, Mrs. Hulver," he said, giving her a chair. "I don't see why youshould stand. Let us have a comfortable chat whilst we are about it."
He noted the cloud of anxiety that seemed to overshadow her usuallyplacid face and put it down to trouble over her son. Her wordsconfirmed 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 bea saint."
"I don't, sir, and least of all young William from the way he hasbegun----"
"What did you hear of Ananda in the bazaar?" asked Alderburyinterrupting her.
"As far as I can recollect the family ill-treated him, knocked himabout with a stick and he ran away. They didn't like his turningChristian. As William--that was my third--used to say: 'What womenhaven't got to answer for, you may safely put down to religion.'"
"It was supposed that he was in hiding somewhere on the collegepremises. It seems the gardener heard of the arrival of your son andthought it was Ananda."
"The gardener?" said Mrs. Hulver puckering her brow. "So we may thankhim 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 herafter all; but she kept her thoughts to herself.
"In coming here he was taking a great liberty, I admit; but it was aswell that he should satisfy himself that Ananda was not on thepremises."
"I should never have allowed him to go through my rooms if the masterhadn't given him permission. As it was I had to submit; but I didn'tlike it with young William lying there and the fever still on him. AsWilliam--that was my first--used to say: 'Orders is orders when spokenby 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 hehad gone to you; but a messenger was sent to your house to inquire; andas nothing had been seen of him there they changed their minds. Idon't wonder at his running away if they really did illtreat him. AsWilliam--that was my second--used to say: 'Distance is the best remedyagainst the spite of evil men.' You never saw such an evil-lookingbeast 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 eyehe would have upped and at him and soon had him out. I think the manhimself was afraid that something of the sort might happen. AsWilliam--that was my first--used to say when his relations came to staywithout an invitation: 'Uninvited guests sit on thorns.'"
"When they discovered that Ananda was not at my house what was the nextsuspicion 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 theyhave widowed his wife I am told. I can't answer for the truth of whatI hear in the bazaar. As William--that was my first--used to say: 'AnIndian 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 plentyof good advice, before master put it in orders that no help of any sortwas to be found in this house. Mr. Ananda ate heartily and listenedpolitely; but he didn't take my advice soon enough. As William--thatwas my second--used to say: 'The man who stops in the valley will neverget over the hill.' I keep telling young William these sort of things.I hope some of them, specially about drink and fighting, will stay byhim. As William, his father used to say: 'The way to promotion doesn'tlie 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 littleexpression but general good-nature towards the whole world.
"Well, sir! There's his widow! A widow is usually the sure sign of aman's death; though I have heard of the widow's weeds being put on toosoon. That was the case of a woman in our regiment whose husband wasseconded for service in Africa. He was reported killed; and just asshe was getting over her trouble and was cheering up a bit, owing toone of the unmarried sergeants paying her a little attention, he cameback. She had to go into colours again before the black was half woreout, 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 plumbingthe depths of a man's folly when he's a fool.' He should have writtenand 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 anymore than I can."
"That's so right enough, and if you see the budmash again you may tellhim that his precious nephew's whereabouts has nothing to do with me."
"Possibly; but as Mr. Ananda belongs to our faith, I certainly thinkthat his welfare has a great deal to do with me," said Alderbury with atouch of severity.
"Of course, sir; it's only right; it's your profession to look afterthe converts. My business is housekeeping; and if the Christmas turkeywas missing from the larder I should be in even more of a taking thanyou are over Mr. Ananda. As William--that was my first--used to say:'Mind your own business and leave others to mind theirs.' You areleaving us to-morrow, sir, I understand. I've seen your men; they wantto start off to-night with the cart if you have no objection. Theportmanteau you are using will go on the motor. This will give themtime to get to the mission-station before you arrive. I told yourservant that I thought he could be spared."
"By all means let them go if they wish. We shall all be glad to gethome 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 gotsafely 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, medear,' that was his way of speaking, he was such a gentleman in hismanners."
"My house is not a pigsty, Mrs. Hulver," protested Alderbury, whileEola's eyes twinkled.
"I'm not saying that it is, though there's no woman in it. AsWilliam--that was my third--used to say: 'A house without a woman isonly a house; it can never be called a home, however clever the man maybe.'"
"It is a fault that may be easily remedied," responded Alderbury.
Mrs. Hulver glanced at him suspiciously, and then let her eyes restupon 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 mayjudge by your legs. Gaiters would be impossible for you, even thoughyou let your apron down a good four inches. As William--that was mysecond and as soldierly-looking man as ever stepped--used to say: 'Itisn'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 Iwas young for the leading fairy in the regimental pantomime atChristmas. I was given to fullness early; but excepting in the matterat the pantomime I never felt any inconvenience from being stout. Myhusbands all admired stout women, and they said one after the otherthat fat in a woman may make her short in the breath, but it keeps hersmiling. Now you're given the other way and you've got just the figurefor 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 ofher life to give the ineligible a bit of her mind. "One day you willmeet a lady, suitable for a missionary's wife; and though she may dressplain, she will soon turn your house into a home with curtains andcarpets and decent house-linen. She must be a good housekeeper." Mrs.Hulver again let her eyes rest on Eola as though she were taking themeasure of her shortcomings in that respect. "And she must be sharp asa needle with the butler over the house accounts."
"If I am ever a bishop, Mrs. Hulver, I suppose I need not be so rigidover the housekeeping qualities of my wife. A bishop usually has ahousekeeper."
"Lor, sir, how you talk! As if that would ever come to pass! But asWilliam--that was my third--used to say: 'Many people talk likegenerals but have to live like privates.' There's no harm in yourtalking of being a bishop as long as you're content to live like amissionary. I must be going; I have a lot to do."
She bustled away, and with her went the smile that had rested onAlderbury's face. Eola watching him noted the change.
"What is it?" she asked. "You are troubled. Are you thinking ofAnanda?"
"Yes; and I am blaming myself," he replied quickly. "There is so muchI might have done to prevent this catastrophe if I had come when yourbrother 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; Iam sure Mrs. Hulver doesn't believe it or she would not be soindifferent. What do you fear?"
"That they have killed him between them."
"They would not dare! That would be murder and they would fear thepenalty."
"Unfortunately there is no penalty in the case of an outcaste, aconvert to Christianity. There might be some sort of a trial, but nojudge in the State of Chirapore would do more than impose a slightpunishment."
"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 himas he considered Ananda's case; and once more the convert wasforgotten. Her hands were buried in the fronds of a maidenhair when hesaid suddenly:
"Don't do that; it isn't safe; there might be a snake hidden in thefern."
She laughed, but did not move her hands. Then he took them in his anddrew 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; Ican'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 arethe most masterful man I ever met. Mr. Alderbury----!" And then herhead dropped and she surrendered.
"Are you converted to my way of thinking," he said at last. "Or, shallI 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. Iheard from England by the last mail that I have been nominated for acolonial bishopric;" and he named the diocese.
"What fun it will be to see the dear old woman's face when she hears ofit!"
He drew her down to a seat among the ferns.
"Never mind the old woman. I want the whole of your attention. Thereis 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 thatnothing is left undone to make it so!"
