The Outcaste

by F. E. Penny

  CHAPTER XXVII

  Alderbury addressed a few words to his companion in the language of thecountry and received monosyllabic replies which gave him noencouragement to persevere in his efforts at making conversation or toextract information. He concluded that she was a shy and frightenedmember of a zenana where very little liberty was allowed. It would allcome right in time; she would lose the shy self-consciousness witheducation.

  From his companion his thoughts went to her brother. He distrustedBopaul's cynicism, mild and harmless though it might be; but he couldnot help admiring the force of character in the man who had struckwhilst the iron was hot. If Bopaul had not handed her over personallyand assured him that all was well, Alderbury would never have venturedto take the girl away. The parents had probably been urged to give aconsent, and before they could withdraw it their son had taken actionto carry out the intention. It was evident that he revolted againstthe Hindu system of widowhood, and with his modern enlightenmentdesired reform. This was his method of protest and it was to becommended. It was also in its way a mark of the philanthropy that isentering the Hinduism of the present day, one of the attributes ofChristianity which Brahmanism is ready to adopt into its system andclaim 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 theperusal of his letters and forgot her very existence. So still andsilent was she that she might have been one of the leather cushionsinstead of a human waif. They passed the boundary of the native Stateand sped through British territory. In another half hour they enteredthe little town that had been Christianised. Alderbury put away hisletters and kept his eyes on the road, that he might not miss thesmiles and nods of the villagers as they welcomed him back.

  The mission house was a large rambling bungalow with thatched roof andwide verandahs. In the same compound stood the school and orphanage.At a little distance was the church shining with marble whiteness inthe afternoon sun.

  As the car drew up under a porch made of rough square stone pillars andpalm-leaf roof, Alderbury thought of the handsome portico of thecollege house, a very different building. He jumped out of the carwith his habitual impetuosity forgetting his companion. Mrs. Hulver'swords were in his mind. A house without a woman was only a house. Itwas quite true although his careful servant had not forgotten toprepare a late afternoon tea. He noted the table set in the verandahwith the earthen tea-pot and the thick cups that bore the mark of manycamping expeditions through his district. Very different, was thetable from the dainty arrangement in another verandah, where the figureof the tea-maker was set in a background of ipomea and bignonia.

  "Bring tea quickly, boy," he said as he passed on towards hissitting-room in search of the letters that should have come by themorning post.

  The servant glanced after him and then held up his hand to arrest thefigure that followed.

  "Wait, lady, until the master calls," he said respectfully; and Mayitastood listening and trembling in the verandah.

  As Alderbury entered his sitting-room a man rose from a chair andadvanced to meet him. He was dressed in European clothes although hewas 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 yourfather'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 bedetained any longer by the servant, rushed forward past Alderbury,never stopping till she had fallen at Ananda's feet. In a moment hewas 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 didyou get here? But what have they done to you my beautiful lotus? Theyhave cut off your hair! and this cloth! what does it mean?"

  The words poured from his lips with a string of eager questions whichDorama 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, poorchild! Not content with nearly beating the life out of me they havewidowed her! the brutes! This is my uncle's doing. I will be evenwith him. He shall answer for it with his life! I will kill him as hewould 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 tempestuouswrath.

  "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 youbeen hidden," said Alderbury. "And they considered themselvesjustified in their action."

  Ananda lifted his drooping, but happy, wife to her feet and kept hisarm about her. His anger melted and he forgot his wrath in theconsciousness 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 totake his widowed sister to the mission house and keep her there. Hedeceived 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 worthhaving!" he said warmly.

  "I'm afraid he is--a--a perverter of the truth!" blurted out themissionary.

  "A splendid liar!" agreed Ananda enthusiastically. "I know of no onebetter. It is a great accomplishment in a Hindu to lie usefully andsuccessfully."

  "But it is altogether wrong in a Christian."

  "I know it is!" replied the 'vert with a sigh of contrition. "I amafraid I have not been altogether straightforward myself of late."

  "Tell me all about yourself and how you managed to escape," saidAlderbury kindly, knowing that it would be best for him to talk it outinstead of brooding over his wrongs, and perhaps being incited by hiswife to further ill-will in considering the persecution she had enduredfor his sake. "When did you arrive?"

  They seated themselves, Ananda retaining his hold on his wife as thoughhe still feared lest she should be snatched away from him again. Shesank upon the floor at his feet, resting an arm upon his knee with acomfortable sense of security which went towards compensating her forsome of the unhappiness that had lately fallen to her lot. Alderburycalled 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 thebeginning. After your call at my father's house I was allowed to seemy wife in the presence of the guru, who paid us a visit to inquire whythe restitution ceremonies had not been performed. He tried to comebetween myself and my wife; but I was determined not to permit anythingof the kind. Our interview was not pleasant. After it was over, and Ihad returned to my room I resolved to put an end to the uncomfortablestate 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 anerror of judgment. My intention was to right my own battle withoutassistance."

  "I understand; but how did you ultimately get away?"

  "I was to all intents and purposes a prisoner in the house, and escapewas 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 heundertook to take them to Biddapet, a station about ten miles out ofChirapore in this direction. I was coming here, of course. Theluggage was gone and I was spending what I hoped was my last night inthat miserable l
ittle 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 ourson was dead."

  There was a pause which Alderbury did not break. Ananda went on withhis story.

  "I persuaded her to throw in her lot with mine. It was a long walk toBiddapet, but she thought she could manage it if I gave her time. Westarted off before it was light and reached the wall of the compound.Unfortunately we disturbed a pariah dog. It barked and I threw a stoneat 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 wasnothing to be done but to go back, which we did; and when we reachedthe house my wife and I were again separated. That night I wasseverely beaten; and during the frightful ordeal my uncle never ceasedto call upon me to recant. How I lived through it I don't know. Godin his goodness gave me strength to bear the pain and to hold fast toChrist. I did not take my punishment with the meekness of the GreatMaster. I fought for my liberty. They were too many and too strongfor me, however. I was held down, and it seemed at the time as if theymust break every bone in my body."

  Up to that point Ananda had used the English tongue. He laid his handon his wife's and asked in native speech whether she knew that he hadbeen beaten.

  "Aiyoh! husband! I suffered and died with thee, beloved lord!"

  Her eyes filled with tears and she kissed the hand passionately. Hecontinued in the vernacular which Alderbury understood.

  "After they left me I fainted. I don't know how long I lay there, butthe next thing I remember was water being dashed into my face. I triedto protect my eyes, but the movement gave me great pain, and I criedout; I was so terribly bruised. Someone spoke to me in a whisper andtold me to be quiet. Once more my friend in need was the sweeper; theman 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 somesoothing ointment and staunched the blood; for I was bleeding a gooddeal. Then he gave me a draught with opium in it. It deadened thepain and made me drowsy and indifferent to all that was happening tome."

  "Good man! worthy of the name of Christian though he is only aheathen," commented Alderbury with warm approval.

  Dorama did not take the same view.

  "Husband, did you really accept the services of the sweeper?" sheasked, 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 havedied of exhaustion and starvation if I had been left untended all thatnight and the following day."

  "What happened next?" asked Alderbury as Ananda showed a disposition toend his tale there.

  "Before I continue my story I must ask you to keep my secret. I havegiven a promise that it is to be told to no one but yourself; and Ipray you to respect our confidence."

  "'Our confidence'?"

  "Mine and Mrs. Hulver's."

  There was a pause; and then, as enlightenment came, Alderbury said in alow voice:

  "So then, you were young William?"

  "The sweeper carried me wrapped in a sheet; for I could neither walknor stand. It was between two and three o'clock in the morning when Iwas hoisted on to his back in a half unconscious state, my senses toostupefied to feel much pain, and I was taken to the college house.Mrs. Hulver was roused from her sleep by the sweeper woman--who worksthere, and is a relative of the man--and I was handed over to thehousekeeper. I have since called her mother, so good and kind has shebeen to me. Under her care I recovered."

  "And through her good offices you have come to me. How did you gethere? 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 thatI did not turn up as I promised at the little station, he carried thebundles back to his own house and came hot-foot to learn the reason ofmy failure to keep the appointment. There he found me in that sorryplight."

  "I am still puzzled," said Alderbury after a little thought. "Mrs.Hulver's son was seen by Miss Wenaston lying on the cot in hersitting-room; and he was wearing uniform, the uniform of the regiment."

  "When I regained consciousness in her room, I found myself dressed inthe uniform that belonged to her son's father. She had kept it, andthough it was very old and a loose fit, it served as an excellentdisguise."

  "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 yourfamily comes to an end," remarked Alderbury.

  "I think not, sir," replied Ananda in a decisive voice. "Why should Ibe banished from my home like a criminal because I have changed myreligion? I shall not allow my wife to go back. There is no reasonwhy 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 andmother."

  "Don't put yourself in any unnecessary danger. Past experience shouldmake you careful," said Alderbury.

  "It has been dearly bought and is not likely to be forgotten," repliedAnanda, 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 governmentas a model native State. I should not think of returning to livethere; 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 theweakness and vacillation of youth, but the noble courage of a man whohad 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 meon the road."

  "Tell your story, beloved. I, too, want to hear how you escaped andwho befriended you," said Ananda.

  "The friend was the same Englishwoman who helped you," answered Doramatimidly; but gaining courage she continued: "She arranged it all withBopaul. There was no difficulty; for since I have been thus"--shetouched her coarse cloth--"no one has cared how I spent my time norwhere I wandered. Mayita came every day to see me and we passed hoursin your little room, my lord, where I found this!" She pulled out hisglove and showed it to him. "At sunset yesterday Mayita brought me amessage from Bopaul to say that my husband was alive and safe onBritish ground, out of reach of our uncle's spite. Oh, how I rejoicedat the good news! but I was obliged to hide my feelings. Mayita toldme that if I wished to see him again, I was to keep my secret andfollow every direction sent by her, without asking any questions. Thismorning as soon as I could leave the house I went to the little roomand there I found Mayita waiting for me. She said that I was to go atonce 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 wewalked away. Any one seeing us from the house would have thought thathe 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 hecould help? Those who might have seen turned their heads away."

  "Your wife may thank your enemies for what they did," remarkedAlderbury. "Without her widow's dress she could never have escaped."

  "Bopaul brought some food with him, for we had a long way to go. Wewalked steadily for an hour. Then he made me sit down and rest.Afterwards we walked again, and my heart beat fast when I heard thecall 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 feltthat 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 theshaven crown.

  "Beloved, it will soon grow again and be more beautiful than ever."

  Alderbury slipped away unnoticed. He was full of sympathy for the twopoor souls who had passed through so much pain whilst for himself allhad been as he desired.