CHAPTER VI.
Sometimes when Mr. Morpeth felt specially wearied with the labours ofthe previous evening, he varied his early morning walk by a drive in hislittle victoria. To-day he had allowed his syce to drive him along thewinding roads of the suburbs, heedless whither he was being carried.Rousing himself at length from his reverie, he saw he had now reachedthe green precincts of Nungumbaukum, and decided to take a stroll. Healighted, and directed his syce to follow while he walked along theroad.
As he passed one of the houses he overheard sounds of bitter weepingfrom the other side of the straggling hedge. A gap in the thicket--amode of exit much favoured by the native servants--permitted him tocatch a glimpse of a little native girl. Sobs painful to his kind heartfell on his ear, and pausing in his walk, he asked in Tamil;
"What ails you, little one?"
The child glanced up with startled air and, peering through the twistedtendrils, caught sight of the speaker. Encouraged by the kind voice andseeing its owner was in European dress, she replied in the best Englishshe could muster, the words broken by sobs:
"Please, sah, Missus say I done steal gold ring. I never done no suchting. My heart done break. I not want to live one minute more. I godrown in tank!"
"Then you did not touch your Missus' ring, little girl?"
"Oh, no, no, I not once touch Missus' ring," wailed the child. "But whatI do? Nobody believin' me. Ramaswamy butler hurt werry sore to make me'fess," and again the dusky head was bent in low weeping.
"What's the matter with your hand?" asked Mr. Morpeth, observing thather right hand was rolled in a comer of her red saree. "Let me see it!"
The small brown hand was obediently held out, showing swollen andbleeding fingers. Little chips of wood, of which some fragmentsremained, had been pushed under the nails, lacerating the flesh.
"H'm, torture! Just as I suspected!" muttered Mr. Morpeth. "Who didthis?"
"Butler done take me into godown make me 'fess. When I no 'fess, he makefingers plenty sore"; and again the child burst into convulsive sobs.
Just then the sound of voices was heard, and the girl leapt from herhiding-place with a look of terror, only to come into view of a stoutmatron and a young lady who were approaching the dividing hedge betweentheir own and their neighbour's compound.
"There's the little thief, I declare!" exclaimed the young lady,catching a glimpse of the red saree. "And see this gap in the hedge,she's no doubt made it flying from justice."
"Well, it will serve our purpose, for I must go at once and tell Mrs.Rayner how disappointingly her _protegee_ has turned out," said Mrs.Harbottle, crossing the dividing line.
"How could you expect anything else, mama? Mrs. Rayner has only been twomonths in the country," returned the young lady, with the scorn ofnew-comers bred of two cold weathers in India.
"Look, the creature's going to slip through our fingers after all. She'smaking a dart through the hedge to the road"; and Miss Harbottle,hurrying forward, pounced upon the child, and seized the maimed handstill rolled in the saree, causing her to shriek with pain.
"Be quiet, you wicked little thing! I believe you're hiding my ringthere. Give it up this instant, or I shall tell Mrs. Rayner what athief you've turned into. A nice whipping you'll get from her ayah, yourold granny; and I hear you tried to bite my butler into the bargain!"
"Ai, Missus, I not done nossin' bad. I not done steal ring! I not donebite butler, he only bleeding my fingers," the child wailed. Rememberingthe kind face which had looked pityingly upon her from the other side ofthe hedge, she sprang towards the gap, but the friendly figure haddisappeared and Miss Harbottle's fingers were gripping her shoulder likea vice and dragging her along the compound.
Rosie was the granddaughter of Mrs. Rayner's ayah. She was a comelylittle maid with great lustrous eyes. Her home had been in the godownwith her grandmother, who, as all good ayahs do, considered it herfunction to keep watch and ward over her mistress's belongings, and itearly struck Hester that the child must have a very lonely life. She hadalready grown fond of her ayah, who was indeed worthy of her confidence,being one of the best of her type. The bright, delicate-featured oldface, with its nut-brown colouring, framed by wavy grey hair, and theready responsive smile, had at once attracted her. The ayah, on herside, was devoted to her young mistress, and was not long in telling herof her two treasures, Jan and Rosie, the boy and girl of her deaddaughter. For Jan, she had managed to find service, but she had neverbeen able to make up her mind to part with the winning little Rosie. Thechild, too, was useful to her in many ways. She found her rice alwaysprepared for her to her liking when she went for her mid-day and eveningmeals. Rosie did a little "titching" too, the ayah assured Mrs. Rayner,but as her clothes were merely lengths of coloured muslin drapedgracefully about her little person, there were not many seams to sew.The ayah had the voluble and quaint command of English common toMadrassee servants, and in a wonderful way had been able to impart itto Rosie, though, as to reading English, that was beyond even grannyayah herself. What a joy it was to her therefore when one day hermistress called Rosie to her and gave her her first lesson! The littlegirl was bright and intelligent, and Hester had passed hours which mighthave hung heavy on her hands in teaching her to read, and in telling herthe simple stories she had been wont to relate to her young brothers athome. The ayah meanwhile would pass and repass on tiptoe, stealingjoyful glances at her mistress and the little maid. Thus, in so short atime, a strong link was forged between the young English lady and theayah's granddaughter. When therefore Mrs. Harbottle chanced to findRosie so honoured, and heard her connection with her neighbour'sexcellent ayah, she set her heart on having her as an assistant to herown dull, heavy-featured attendant. Hester decided that such abeginning, so near the watchful grandmother, was a favourable chance forRosie, and the bargain was concluded.
All hitherto had gone smoothly, and great was Hester's consternation,when looking out from the verandah of her bedroom where she sat busywith her home-mail, she perceived Mrs. Harbottle and her daughterdragging Rosie across the lawn. Hurrying downstairs she was met by avoluble tale from the two ladies in chorus.
"But are you sure the ring is really lost?" she asked in an undertone."Things often turn up again--are only mislaid."
"This is lost sure enough. Stolen by that imp from my ring-stand on mydressing-table. This very morning when I was at early tea that brat wasalone in my room 'tidying up,' forsooth!" Mrs. Harbottle reiterated heraccusation while Rosie lay prone on the gravel, a pathetic little bundleof heaving sobs.
The telepathic agency, ever at work among the many domestics of anAnglo-Indian household, now brought the old ayah to the spot to hearwhat had happened to her one ewe-lamb. The nut-brown tint of her facewas replaced by a greyish hue, her features seemed suddenly sharpened asshe took in the situation. Folding her lean brown arms, she stood apathetic, statuesque figure as she listened to the denunciations of theangry Englishwoman. Her eyes turned with a gaze of anguish on the littlehuddled figure, and catching sight of the muffled hand she went forwardand made to undo the end of the red saree.
A scream of pain from the child caused her to desist. With a groan shecovered her face for a moment, then looked piteously towards hermistress, saying with quivering lips:
"They done torture my pore chil'. See, Missus, that bleeding han'?"
"Torture the child!" exclaimed Hester with dilating eyes.
"Yes, Missus, butler poking fingers with sticks making plenty blood cometo make me 'fess," said Rosie, looking up with a pitiful air.
"How dreadful! This is shocking, Mrs. Harbottle! What have you to say tothis?"
"A parcel of lies, of course! Nobody laid a finger on the littlewretch," cried Mrs. Harbottle excitedly.
The ayah on hearing this stepped forward again, and leading Rosie nearpointed silently to the mutilated hand.
"Who did this to you, Rosie?" asked Hester in gentle tones.
"Ramaswamy butler. He do this to make me 'fess--only----"
; Great tears rolled down her cheeks as she glanced up to Hester's pityingface.
"You see this hand, Mrs. Harbottle. This is terrible"; and there was aflash in Hester's grey blue eyes which made Mrs. Harbottle quail. Tryingto assume a defensive air, she burst forth:
"How can you believe that little liar! Most likely she fell in tryingto escape and hurt her hand." All the same she was not feeling easy atthe discovery, for had she not at the butler's request given Rosie tohim to try to make her confess the theft? Now she began to fear she hadgone too far.
"I am sorry my husband happens to be out," said Hester. "He has gonedriving with a friend who is staying with us. This is a matter that willrequire looking into."
"Oh, if you like to take the word of that native imp in preference tomine, I've nothing more to say," wound up Mrs. Harbottle, with an air ofoffence. "Perhaps you'll get the creature to confess to you after we'vegone," she added, as a parting shot.
"I will--I 'fess to my werry own missus only," sobbed Rosie, and sprangforward to cling to Hester's morning gown.
"Ah, there, I told you so! You'll soon find out where the ring ishidden," cried Mrs. Harbottle, with a ring of triumph in her tone. "I'llleave you now," she added, with returning smiles as she prepared to go."I really cannot expose myself and my daughter to the sun. We've beendelayed too long already over this wretched business."
Bowing stiffly, she raised her white umbrella, and the mother anddaughter hurried away across the brown turf towards the gap in thehedge.
Hester felt rather nonplussed. Did Rosie not say she would confess afterall? Had the child yielded to a sudden temptation and become a thief?Was that why poor old ayah had stood by with such an unutterablystricken look?
"Come, Rosie, I want to talk to you in this very place where you used torepeat your hymn and hear nice stories," said Hester in a soothingvoice. "Now tell me about all this!"
The little girl, in spite of her aching fingers, seemed to havewonderfully recovered her equanimity since the departure of heraccusers.
"What are you going to confess to me, Rosie?" asked Hester gravely."Surely you did not take the lady's ring?"
"I done take ring? Oh, no, neva touchin' ring," cried the child, lookingup with candid eyes.
"But, Rosie, you said you were going to confess to me," faltered Hester.
"Oh, yes, I 'fess Missus cause Missus believe me. I done 'fess, and Idone 'fess butler, only he prick my hands werry sore. Ramaswamy nevabelieve one word."
Hester was now entirely satisfied as to the child's innocence, and felttouched by the quick confidence with which she dried her tears and evensmiled. She decided to call the ayah and relieve her poor heart byassuring her of the innocence of her granddaughter. She found her in thenext room making everything, as was her wont, exquisitely tidy. Shelistened attentively to her mistress, but the strain did not leave herface.
"Missus speakin' true," she said, nodding her head in acquiescence. "Mylittle girl neva done touch the lady's jewel. I know that from first.But what that matter when English lady done say she did. How can porenative woman stand up against one white lady? 'Tis Rosie's bad fate,Missus. 'Tis the will of the gods--the gods make angry at my one porechil'? What I do?"
The ayah's face wore a bitter look, though she held her head high andwent about her duties in silence.
A spirit of dreariness took possession of Hester. All seemed dark andmysterious concerning the matter. Her heart ached for the old woman,though she felt unable to make any reply to her bitter words. But thoughshe could not bind broken hearts, she could at least dress woundedfingers, she decided, and getting out lint and bandages she appliedherself to that, and was rewarded by a patient smile from the littlesufferer.
A Bottle in the Smoke: A Tale of Anglo-Indian Life Page 6