A Bottle in the Smoke: A Tale of Anglo-Indian Life

by Janet Milne Rae

  CHAPTER VIII.

  Hester, having bandaged Rosie's tortured fingers, tried to return to herletters for the English mail, but she could not put her heart into them,for she felt dispirited and ill at ease. Evil seemed triumphing, troublefalling on the innocent and helpless, and the loving God, to Whom shehad tried to point Rosie in their quiet hours, appeared to be taking nonotice. Mrs. Harbottle's bitter taunts still rang in her ears, and thesepoor mutilated fingers which she had just been binding up--were they notsufficient evidence of the malignant fate which had descended on thechild's innocent head?

  As she was a prey to these disquieting thoughts she heard footsteps onthe gravel-sweep below. Hoping that it was her husband and friendreturning, she looked out, for she was eager to consult them as to whatshould be done to prove Rosie's innocence, of which she was completelyconvinced. Great was her surprise when she saw coming up the broad whitesteps, not her husband, but the "elusive Mr. Morpeth," as she had dubbedhim to Mrs. Fellowes. She decided that he must have called to see Mark,but presently the butler came bringing her a card on his tray andsaying: "One old Dorai want to speak to Missus."

  So the visit was for her after all! She hurried downstairs to find hervisitor in the verandah with a bright smile on his face. No, he wouldnot come in, he just wanted to bring her some good news. He went on toexplain that he had heard the lamentation of her little maid behind thehedge as he passed the compound, and had also overheard Mrs. Harbottlestormily charging the child with the theft of her ring.

  "I passed on," said Mr. Morpeth, "feeling very sorry for the child whosevoice seemed to ring true when she assured me, 'I never done take thatring.' I got into my carriage again and presently I saw two kites havinga duel almost above my head, then something bright fell through the air.I called my syce to stop, and keeping my eye on the spot where the kitehad dropped its booty, I picked up this."

  Mr. Morpeth held out the recovered ring.

  "Oh, Mr. Morpeth, what a trophy! How kind and clever you are!" exclaimedHester with joy in her eyes. "You can't think what a morning of anguishwe've had over that ring. Rosie has been broken-hearted. What a joy thiswill be to her, and even more to her granny, my ayah, who has beenfeeling very bitter over the accusation which she knew to be false. Shethought her gods must be angry with Rosie, and that it was all over withher. This is a beautiful clearing up! Now, since you won't come in, willit be too much to ask if you will step across with me to Mrs.Harbottle's and unfold this delightful ending of our trouble to her? Shewas much too hard on our poor little Rosie. I, like you, believed thechild was innocent, but never did I dream we should have such a swiftand fairy-like proof of it! But allow me first to call the child, Mr.Morpeth, you will like to see her joy!"

  "Yes, I should like to see Rosie. It will be a pleasure to watch herface when she hears the ring has been found, though the thief is stilla-flying. But please don't ask me to face Mrs. Harbottle," said Mr.Morpeth, shrugging his shoulders. "I heard her voice--it wasn't musical!I beg off! You lead Rosie to her and unfold the last chapter of thetale."

  "But, Mr. Morpeth," began Hester, in a hesitating tone. "Am I veryuncharitable? What if Mrs. Harbottle thinks I've invented the story toshield the child? I'm ashamed of my evil thought, but there--it's out!"

  "You are right! A woman's wit always scores! After all, I am the mostimportant witness in the case--saving the kite who was wresting theprize from the thief, and I fear we can't summon him! Well, I supposethere's nothing for it but to face the formidable lady--but alone,please. I want to have a word with her butler. Did you see the child'shand?"

  "I did. I never was so shocked in my life! I've just been doing what Icould for it. Surely that man ought to be punished for his cruelty. Ionly wish my husband had been at home. He's out driving this morning."

  "I don't wonder you were horrified, Mrs. Rayner. No doubt it's yourfirst experience of one of the iniquities of this land--systematisedtorture applied to wring confession from the victim. I grieve that youshould have come into contact with it. It only goes on under the surfacenow, but like many iniquities, it dies hard. However, in this case Ishall deal with the butler in a way he will feel--also with Mrs.Harbottle. I shall be able to tell them I saw the child's hand with myown eyes. Perhaps that will frighten them sufficiently, you need nottrouble yourself further," Mr. Morpeth added, looking at the fair youngwife in a protective fatherly manner. "I don't think I'll have time tosee Rosie just now, since I must go to Mrs. Harbottle's. You can tellher that the true thief has been found and made to renounce his booty. Ienvy you the mission, Mrs. Rayner. It is ever gladsome work to unfoldthe loving kindness of our God.

  "'Tis the name that whoso teacheth Finds more sweet than honey's cheer."

  he murmured, with glistening eyes that seemed to Hester like abenediction as they rested on her.

  Why had she not been able to tell the stricken ayah of that Love whichseemed so near and dear to this man? Never had that Love felt so near toherself.

  "I pray that this morning's work may prove a helpful memory to thelittle Rosie in days to come," added Mr. Morpeth, holding out his handwith a sweet lingering smile.

  "It will be a helpful memory to me too, Mr. Morpeth, I thank you withall my heart," was Hester's parting word as she turned away.

  Before the visitor had reached the last of the broad flight of theverandah steps, the master of the house came hurrying round the cornerof the walk that led from the stables. His recent encounter with hisformer acquaintance had left him a prey to angry feelings.

  "I declare, if this isn't another of those vile half-castes! We shallhave the whole population of Vepery landing at our door!" he muttered,hurrying forward and glancing with an air of insolent chilliness at thestooping figure, from whose lined face the gracious smile had hardlyfaded.

  "What, may I ask, is the reason of your call? I don't happen to havethe----" "the pleasure" he was about to say, but with a cruel smilechanged it to: "I have not the need of your acquaintance!"

  The old man's face became grey and stern. For a moment he seemed aboutto speak, then, shaking his head sadly, he walked away in silence.

  "Oh, Alfred, how could you--how could you speak so to him?" criedHester, who had turned in the hall when she heard her husband's voice."That is Mr. Morpeth, Mrs. Fellowes' friend, and mine too now."

  "Yours is he? That he shan't be! I tell you what it is, Hester. I'll nothave you encouraging these half-castes--male or female--that man Morpethor anybody else--to come and crawl about my verandah on any pretextwhatever! It's sheer forwardness! The fact is I can't afford to risk myposition by mixing with them in any way. That's the long and the shortof it!"

  They had gone forward and were now standing on the threshold of thedarkened library. Mr. Rayner could not see his wife's face, or perhapshe would not have gone so far. She covered it with her hands and stoodmute for some moments, then with a shudder, she said:

  "Oh, Alfred, there's something very wrong about this! You cannot be inearnest! I never thought----"

  Suddenly Hester's voice broke and she turned away and mounted thestaircase. Her husband stood looking at her retreating figure with ahalf repentant air, then he shrugged his shoulders and bit his lip, andseating himself at his writing-table began to fumble among his papers.

  In the open houses of India there is no privacy. Mark Cheveril, busyover his letters in the adjoining room, had not failed, though muchagainst his will, to overhear the whole conversation. He could gatherthat Mr. Morpeth had evidently called on some errand, and had beeninsultingly dismissed. It was a painful revelation, made more so by hisrecollection of Alfred Rayner's attitude to the man who had been almosttrampled under the hoofs of his horses. Mark had been vividly remindedof the incident when he observed Mr. Morpeth's evident agitation at thesight of Hester on Mrs. Fellowes' lawn. Possibly the old man thought Mr.Rayner was also of the party, and shrank from meeting him. In theinterest of his talk with the gracious host in his own library, therecollection of the painful scene in the mail-phaeto
n had been overlaidfor Mark. Since then he had neither opportunity nor inclination to tellMr. Rayner of his meeting with the despised East Indian, knowing wellthat he would not sympathise with the intense interest and admirationwhich had grown up already in his heart towards David Morpeth. And nowthe overheard words seemed more than likely to prove an impassablebarrier to any mention of the subject, unless he was prepared to fightthe bitter prejudice in the open.

  Even more grievous to Mark had been the note of pain in Hester's voicewhen she remonstrated with her husband. Surely Rayner's attitude tothese people was the outcome of a shallow and vulgar mind! Were gentleMrs. Bellairs' fears concerning this union too likely to be realised? Hewas at the moment engaged in writing to that anxious mother far away.What could he say now to alleviate her fears, to send assurance that allwas well with her beloved daughter? Yet on many grounds it was not forhim to be the sender of even a breath of evil tidings. No, he must probethe matter further, he decided.

  Closing his portfolio he began to pace up and down the rattan-matting ofthe long room. How he desired to comfort the girl who had been such agood gay comrade in past days! These last words of hers seemed wrung asfrom a bleeding wound. Yet it was denied him to whisper one soothingword to her who was probably weeping in one of those white roomsup-stairs. The very thought of it roused the young man's chivalroussoul. His indignation waxed hot at the revelation of the shallowness andegotism which had occasioned the outburst of temper on Rayner's part.What mattered all his show of hospitality to himself while such feelingslurked beneath it? Might it not have been safer for the guarding of thattrusty friendship which he desired should subsist between Hester andhimself if he had not been Alfred Rayner's guest;--if he had not comeinto such close contact with the man? Yet it pained him to remember thathe should have to leave Clive's Road with this impression on his mind.Looking at his watch he saw that it was time to get ready for the latebreakfast. How could he meet his sweet hostess whom he had only seen fora few moments at early tea that morning? She probably thought that hehad gone out with her husband, as had been first arranged. If she hadnot done so, she would have called him to meet Mr. Morpeth, who possiblymay have come to return his call. Hester, he knew, had meant to devoteher morning to her home-letters. How cruelly they had been interferedwith! Perhaps she would not appear at breakfast, possibly he might notsee her again before he left for Puranapore!

  But Mark was mistaken. He had not probed the stern moralities of suchsecret care and trouble. How often in life has a smiling face to cover abroken heart? When he entered the breakfast-room, there sat the younghostess, sweet and gracious, entertaining two of her husband's merchantclients from Kurrachi. Rayner was at the head of the table smilingaffably, vastly gratified at the impression his wife was evidentlymaking upon his important guests. But Mark could not fail to notice thathe cast an anxious glance towards her, as if pondering whether his wordswere already forgotten and forgiven; and as Mark encountered Hester'sgaze he felt sure they were not, at all events, forgotten. Her eyes wereweary, there was an increased pallor on her cheeks, and a certainpitiful curve of her lips when her face was in repose.

  Never before had he admired her as he did now while he watched howskilfully she kept the ball of conversation rolling on harmless topics.Alfred, having heard an account of the ring from his dressing-boy, triedto make some inquiry concerning it. Hester briefly narrated the story,but from her repressed air Mark was able to gather that the restorer wasnone other than the man who, in return, had received such crueltreatment at her husband's hands.

  He hardly knew whether he felt more relief or regret when his bandy wasannounced to drive him to the train for Puranapore. The other guests haddeparted, and Hester, after her efforts to entertain them, wore avisibly depressed air. When Mark clasped her hand and looked wistfullyinto her face he felt that she, too, thought it better no risk shouldbe run of a repetition of the scene which had shamed her, for she gaveno invitation for a future visit. His host, on the contrary, full ofsurface courtesy, was charging him not to fail to make Clive's Road hishome when he chanced to be in Madras. Mark, at the same moment, happenedto meet Hester's eye, and read there a look of doubt and pain whichseemed to say, "How can he be so unjust as to welcome one and flout theother?" He felt strongly of the same opinion. One thing, however, seemedclear to him that he must, in spite of all his social disabilities inAlfred Rayner's eyes, continue to be a friend without fear and withoutreproach to the young wife whose happiness seemed in such jeopardy.