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

by Janet Milne Rae

  CHAPTER XXVI.

  On the same day as Alfred Rayner made his call on Truelove Brothers,Mrs. Fellowes, with Hester seated by her side, was driving in her littlevictoria towards Vepery. They had made a slight _detour_ by the lines ofthe Native Infantry, which was some distance from the residentialquarter, and had now left behind the quiet corner with the officers'bungalows and reached the First Line Beach.

  "I always like this bit," remarked Mrs. Fellowes. "Somehow it reminds meof one of the quays of Newcastle where I used to visit a dear friendwhen I was a girl. I suppose all busy seaport places have a familylikeness. This suggests to me one of the vanished haunts of my girlhood,and has always made this First Line Beach pleasant to me."

  Hester led her friend to share with her the pleasant reminiscences ofthe past, and their talk flowed on till the sight of the polo match inprogress on the green island proved a distraction. The spectacle wasbeing watched by crowds of spectators from the well-filled grand stand,and at the palings the natives clustered, scanning the feats of theagile riders with shrill delight.

  The ladies in the victoria did not halt long in the neighbourhood of theisland. Their destination was further inland, to the crowded quarter ofVepery.

  "When I told the Colonel that you and I were going to make an impromptucall on Mr. Morpeth, he said it was rather unfair," said Mrs. Fellowes."That, being a bachelor, we should have given him warning."

  "Mr. Morpeth looks so calm and detached--almost like a fakir, I don'tthink anything could take him by surprise," returned Hester with asmile. "Anyhow I'm going to make my visit at last. I have long wanted tosee Mr. Morpeth at home, and you know he did invite us to come anyafternoon. I don't think he'll mind our going without warning. You see,we never have any time left the day we are at the Girls' Club."

  "I'm sure he won't mind," agreed Mrs. Fellowes. "It's only Joe'sred-tape fussiness. I once took Mrs. Campbell of Puranapore to call onhim when she was staying with us, and his reception of us was charming.But I really don't think there is anything of the fakir in Mr. Morpeth.It always strikes me what a delightful family man he would have made,but instead he has opened his heart to his poor despised race and livesfor them. But I've been thinking he has been looking more lonely and sadlately. He has a sorrowful preoccupied air he didn't have when we firstknew him. Ah, here we are at Freyville!"

  "What a neat, home-like gate!" exclaimed Hester. "I haven't seenanything so tidy since I left Pinkthorpe. How carefully tended hisgarden looks! How can he manage it? Our compound at Clive's Road waslooking quite brown and withered even before I left it."

  She looked round with admiration on the well-kept borders, carefullytrimmed shrubs and hedges, and the well-watered flowers.

  "It's all of a piece--outside and in," said Mrs. Fellowes. "The fact is,my dear, we are too much birds of passage to do justice to our homeshere. They are merely camps to us, but to these sons of the soil theyare real homes; and that's what Mr. Morpeth wants to make them for hispoorer brethren of the Eurasian community, who are too often contentedto crowd together in the most miserable sheds. Then Mr. Morpeth getsmuch better service than we can. His staff is not scattered to the windsevery few years like ours. The residents are able to have theirretainers growing grey in their service, and they become as perfect asthe servants of the best, and fast dying out type, at home. Here comesone of these now! Well, Mootoo, is your master at home?"

  "He is, ma'am, and very pleased will he be to see you," said the man,showing his white teeth as he salaamed. One could see from under theedge of his artistically-folded turban, a suspicion of grey hair. Hissnow white tunic fell in graceful folds about his tall figure as henoiselessly led the way to introduce the visitors.

  "This hall is my envy," said Mrs. Fellowes. "It is all paved in realmarble. Some of those older Madras houses are so. I do love those blackand white chequers. What a poor substitute our rattan matting is, oreven when the chequers are copied in chunam."

  As they lingered to admire some of the massive hand-made furnishings ofthe hall they heard the sound of voices.

  "Oh, what a pity, he has company to-day! I should have preferred a nicetalk with him all by ourselves," whispered Mrs. Fellowes.

  "Only one company, Missus," said Mootoo, smiling, having overheard herremark as he prepared to announce them.

  Mr. Morpeth, of whom they first caught sight, was bending forward in hiseasy-chair with an air of interest listening to the conversation of hisvisitor, Mark Cheveril.

  "Ah, good! A meeting of friends!" exclaimed the old man in a gleefultone. "This is what Mootoo would call a lucky day for me!"

  "For me too," said Mark, as he shook hands with the ladies, a happylight coming into his frank eyes. "And it follows on a disappointment,too. I've just been to Clive's Road on my way from the station to findits mistress absent."

  "Now, Mr. Cheveril," broke in Mrs. Fellowes, "if you had only had theintuition to drive on to Royapooram you would have found the absentbird there."

  "I did think of it, for the boy volunteered the information that Mr.Rayner was in Calcutta and 'Missus done gone to Royapooram,'" returnedMark. He glanced now at Hester with keen eyes, and was satisfied to notethat she was looking better and happier than when he had last seen her.

  "But if he had made that round, Mrs. Fellowes, where should I have comein?" asked Mr. Morpeth. "The fact is I look upon him as my peculiarproperty for the day, seeing I lured him all the way from Puranapore toopen our new Reading-room for our young men. Wasn't that a good move,Mrs. Fellowes?"

  "Excellent--I am glad! And if I didn't know that you eschewed females onthese occasions, I should suggest that we should come to hear Mr.Cheveril's speech, shouldn't you, Hester?"

  "Indeed I should! But mayn't we, Mr. Morpeth?" asked Hester, her winningsmile evoking a return one from the old man. "You are master ofceremonies, are you not?"

  "It wouldn't do, believe me," replied Mr. Morpeth, shaking his head."Our masculine efforts would have no chance. The lads would be too muchfascinated by the unwonted presence of English ladies."

  "Singular number, please, Mr. Morpeth," said Mrs. Fellowes promptly. "Idon't think an old body like me would distract them. But I suppose heknows best, Hester, we must give in. He is very impartial, you see, hewon't come to our Girls' Friendly. We must accept the scruples of anexpert."

  Mootoo was now bringing in tea, which was daintily served on a richlycarved old silver tray. The cups and saucers being of old Chelsea china,while the lovely Cutch work silver service belonged to the more artisticperiod of that style.

  "Every time I come here I ask the same question like a regular Mrs.Gamp," laughed Mrs. Fellowes. "Where do you get this delicious blend oftea? It's the most refreshing cup I ever get anywhere," and she sippedthe fragrant beverage from the delicate Chelsea cup. "And those scones,aren't they perfect, Mr. Cheveril? Never did I taste their like exceptin the Highlands of Scotland!"

  Mootoo, who was serving, showed his keen gratification by a quiver ofhis eyelids, these scones being his special triumph, for Mootoo couldcook excellently as well as do "butler" work, and with juggler-likerapidity had turned out the scones and cakes which Mrs. Fellowesdeclared would bring down reproaches upon her from her husband when heobserved she had no appetite left for dinner.

  Tea being over, the older lady suggested that their host should allowthem to see some of the interesting things with which his houseabounded, and declared she would lead the prowl. Mark had already madethe acquaintance of some of these treasures.

  "I was just saying to Mr. Morpeth," he remarked, "that in this Indianhouse he had carried out the chief function of an old country mansion athome--that of being the receptacle for storing things one cannot carryabout with one in a roving life."

  "Yes, that's what the Colonel's always lamenting," broke in Mrs.Fellowes. "There can be no relic-gathering in the Anglo-Indian's lot.And after all, these possessions are the making of a family--collectionsof old letters, heirloom portraits, mementos of persons and events--why,one can't keep
anything of the kind in India! I once had a lock ofPrince Charlie's yellow hair--purported to be so, anyhow--among mytreasures. The _poochees_ ate it in one week! No, all that sacredstoring of precious things is denied to us poor wanderers over the greatrestless ocean," wound up Mrs. Fellowes sadly.

  The delightful shelves of books seemed to be calling Hester's attention,and Mark Cheveril was in his element introducing her to some of his oldfavourites of which she had only heard from him. Presently Mr. Morpethwas called to the verandah to see two young men who had come in toconsult him about some final arrangements for the coming meeting, andMrs. Fellowes went to converse with the parrot, who always claimed herattention on her visits to Freyville.

  Mark and Hester, continuing their explorations, came upon a shelf amongthe rows of books which seemed to be given up to miniatures anddaguerrotypes. One of these was the portrait of a young man with ararely beautiful face which caught Hester's eye.

  "I feel sure this is a portrait of Mr. Morpeth when he was young," sheremarked, after scanning it.

  "If so he has sadly changed," returned Mark, as he looked at the youngspirited face with bright, dauntless-looking eyes, and compared themwith the sad, meditative grey orbs into which he had been looking beforethe ladies joined them.

  "And this, I suppose, must be his sister! She looks too young for hismother. Pretty face, isn't it?" said Hester, handing Mark another olddaguerrotype in its leathern case.

  "Superficially pretty, perhaps," returned Mark. "No, I don't admire theface," he added, and was about to replace it on the shelf withoutfurther comment, when Hester said:

  "Let me see it again! It reminds me curiously of some girl--Ithink--I've seen either here or at home. Those eyes look familiar andthe shape of that nose--I know who it's like. It has a look of myhusband! How odd! I'm sure he isn't girlish-looking," she added with alaugh.

  Mark took the portrait into his hand again and examined it attentively."Yes, perhaps there is a likeness--about the eyes especially."

  He was still looking at it when they were joined by Mrs. Fellowes andMr. Morpeth.

  "Ah, you are looking at my little gallery of old portraits," he said. "Ifear they are not very artistic But I've got some portfolios of oldengravings that are worth looking at. I have them carefully stowed away,one can't leave such things about. The monsoon makes such havoc on allpictures--even under glass, not to speak of the insects."

  "Is this a relative of yours, Morpeth?" asked Mark, holding out the olddaguerrotype. "Your sister, perhaps!"

  "No, not my sister, alas, I never had one! That is my late wife."

  "Your wife!" exclaimed Mrs. Fellowes, coming forward to look at thepicture. "Forgive my accent of surprise, dear friend, but do you knowneither the Colonel nor I ever knew you were married. We have always setyou down as a bachelor!"

  "Well, I have been so for many a long day. My wife died a year after wewere married," he added, a pained look crossing his face.

  Mrs. Fellowes, after a close survey of the portrait, replaced it on theshelf, saying to herself as she did so:

  "Wouldn't have been much of a companion to the dear man if she hadlived, if I can read faces!"

  Hester, seeing the look of sadness in Mr. Morpeth's eyes, hastened tomake some digression, and turned to admire an exquisitely carved ivorybox which stood on the same shelf as the portraits.

  "This is beautiful workmanship, Mr. Morpeth. I am specially interestedbecause I have a box rather like it which I greatly admired, and stilldo, though I can see now the great superiority of yours. My husbandpresented me with mine when we were engaged to be married. Of course, hebelieved it to be the finest ivory, so his disappointment was great whenan expert, to whom he was showing it lately, pronounced it to be onlybone! I assured Alfred I thought it was just as beautiful as before, buthe's never been able to look on it with favour since. I confess I cansee, on examining yours, the difference between the true and thefalse."

  "Yes, I can vouch for this one," replied Mr. Morpeth, "that it is atleast genuine, for I gave the man the bit of ivory out of which it iscarved. It's years ago now. The man was a poor worker who had lost bothhis legs, but his hands stood him in good stead. He was the most perfectivory-carver I've ever seen. He was a bit of a genius in other ways too.His designs were often original. If you examine this box closely youwill see there is a whole history carved on its top and sides. He becamea Christian and loved gospel themes, and these are some scenes from thelife of Our Lord. See, here He sits with Mary at His feet listening toHis words, and there He is walking on the sea. Aren't those billowswonderful--carved out of such a hard material as ivory?"

  But now Mrs. Fellowes remarked that though they had only made abeginning in their examination of his treasures, they must really setout for home, or the Colonel would begin to get anxious about them. Sheturned to Mark to try to persuade him to give them some hours before heleft for Puranapore on the following day, but he said he must return inthe early morning as some matters were requiring his attention at theRevenue Office, and that the Collector and he were to start on tour theday following.

  Mrs. Fellowes and her guest said good-bye, and were already seated inthe victoria when Mr. Morpeth came round to the side of the carriage atwhich Hester sat, and laid a little parcel in her hand.

  "It's only the ivory box! Will you accept it as a little memento of yourfirst visit to a lonely old man? Let this replace the false one. Use itfreely--keep your mother's letters in it. I got the secret of restoringstained ivory from the carver, and I'll share it with you when thelittle box needs a cleaning."

  "Oh, but really I cannot deprive you of this priceless treasure," criedHester, with a genuinely troubled air. "No, it must not go from yourkeeping!"

  "If it goes to yours it will please me more than you can guess,"returned Mr. Morpeth, his pathetic grey eyes pleading more than hiswords.

  "Then I shall keep the little box with its beautiful carved histories asmy best treasure as long as I live," said Hester, her eyes glisteningwith tears as she clasped the packet in both hands and looked into thedonor's face.

  The two gentlemen stood bareheaded in the sunset glow to watch themdrive off, the turbaned Mootoo behind them, framed by the gracefulfestooning creepers of the verandah, while the parrot called from itsperch: "Come back soon, master lonely!"

  "Very pat for once, Polly," said Mr. Morpeth with a smile, as hescratched the bird's neck; while Mark stood with folded arms and earnesteyes watching the disappearing carriage.

  "I shall never forget the picture those two made standing there," saidHester, looking back towards the verandah. "Those sad eyes of the oldman wring my heart. How good it is that Mark seems to love him like ason."

  "Yes, my dear, we've had a very pleasant visit, though it was impromptu.We'll be able to tell the Colonel how well it turned out."