A Bottle in the Smoke: A Tale of Anglo-Indian Life
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CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Mr. Morpeth returned to Clive's Road in the evening as he had promised,to tell Hester all he thought needful for her to hear, withholding muchwhich might have added to her pain. He had already secured a passage forher on the first homeward bound steamer, and for her ayah, who heinsisted should accompany her. He had also arranged his own sad journeyto Calcutta for the same morning.
On the following days, Mrs. Fellowes proved invaluable in allpreparations for the departure from Clive's Road. She observed with muchconcern that Hester seemed in a sort of stupor and forbore to obtrudeher sympathy. She had as yet exchanged but few words with her friend,and when she had occasion to ask some needful question Hester wouldreply mechanically.
She sat now at the evening hour by her friend's side in the verandah,glancing anxiously at the listless, folded hands, the wan face, and thedry, despairing eyes gazing up at the dark blue star-strewn sky as ifseeing strange visions. Happening to meet Mrs. Fellowes' inquiringglance, Hester stretched out her hand to clasp hers.
"How good you have been to me!" she murmured, "and so patient!" Then sheadded, as if in explanation. "I can't speak of it yet. I don't seem ableeven to feel. My heart seems shrivelled up. I am like something ayahshowed me this morning. She was asking me which of her possessions shemust take across the black water, and I could only think of one at themoment--a gay-coloured new leathern bottle she had once showed to mewith pride. She went and fetched it from her godown and said: 'See,missus, what that bottle done come to!' and she held up a black,shrunken thing that had been hanging in the smoke of her godown since Icame to Madras. I think that bottle and my heart have had the samehistory these last months. Both have been shrivelled in the smoke ofscorching fires!"
"Why, there's a verse in the Psalms like that," said Mrs. Fellowesbriskly, glad that the silence had been broken. She took her little oldBible from her bag. "Here it is, in the longest Psalm, and a verygraphic description the Psalmist gives of himself. 'I am become like abottle in the smoke.' He must have felt like that too, dear child, butif we read further we'll find how he turned to the Healer--the Restorer,till he was able to say, 'It is good for me that I have beenafflicted.'"
Hester did not speak at once. "Thank you, dear friend," she said atlength, and Mrs. Fellowes could see that the torpid air had passed, thatlife and thought had come back. "You have done me good! I think I see alittle through the smoke now. I shall go and give Rosie a last lessonafter all," she added, rising. "It is so good of you to promise to takecare of the little maid till ayah comes back again. No more Mrs.Harbottles," she added, with something of her old bright smile.
"Yes, the smoke will rub off by degrees," thought Mrs. Fellowes, as shelooked after Hester's retreating figure. "This terrible experience mustleave its mark. 'A bottle in the smoke' she has been truly all her dayshere! Thank God the process has not been soiling! What life must havebeen with such a husband it passes me to understand! He hadn't a singleredeeming point--except his good looks; and the Colonel even questionsthem. But poor Rayner had a beautiful face there is no doubt."
In the early dawn next morning Hester took farewell of her wedded home,bestowing a kindly smile on the sad-faced company of servants who weregrouped round the verandah to make their last salaams to the sweetEnglish lady whose husband had come by such an evil fate.
Many kindly notes of condolence had reached her those last days from hernumerous acquaintances of varying degrees of intimacy, for Mrs. Raynerhad been an esteemed member of the little Anglo-Indian society of thepast season--even by some who were inclined to look askance on herhusband. Now the place that had known her those short months of herwedded life would know her no more. Her memory would pass in thechanging society of the Indian town like the passage of a swift flyingbird through a lighted chamber. Even as she gazed at the familiar scene,the stately buildings, the towering Fort of St. George that skirted theshore while she was being carried over the waves by the stalwart brownrowers of the Massulah boat, she felt as if her life on that strand wasalready beginning to recede dream-like from her vision.
The surf was crossed now, and Hester and her little party, consisting ofColonel and Mrs. Fellowes, were safely landed on the deck of the _ElDorado_. Mr. Morpeth had been inventive in all kindly arrangements forthe young widow, and their parting was memorable to both. His grey eyeshad gazed with unutterable sorrow and tenderness into her face as heheld her hands.
"This land of ours will call you again, I feel sure, my daughter;whether I am here to see it or not. One day you will return to work forour people once more."
Hester had pleaded for a promise that he should come on a visit toPinkthorpe, knowing well that her father and mother would honour thenoble Eurasian gentleman; but Mr. Morpeth shook his head, smiling sadly."No, my child, my visit to England would be thirty years too late now."But still Hester would not hear of being robbed of all hope that itmight still be one of the happy events which the future had in store forher. Colonel and Mrs. Fellowes were to be home for good the followingyear, so that the strong link forged with these friends was not long tobe severed.
There was one true friend whose hand Hester would fain have grasped, onepair of frank eyes into which she would have wished to look once morebefore she finally left this place of mingled memories; but MarkCheveril had made no sign. He evidently did not desire to meet AlfredRayner's wife again after all that had come and gone. She did not wonderthat he felt so, but the knowledge of his kind offices to her deadhusband would always be graven on her heart, and she had wished justonce to put her hand in his and whisper her thanks.
A few minutes before the last bell rang her wish was realised, for shecaught sight of her trusty comrade coming up the ladder. He came forwardto greet her with grave earnest courtesy. There was not time for manywords. The last bell was about to ring, and all, except intendingpassengers, were ordered to leave the ship. Colonel and Mrs. Fellowesmade their farewells with looks of encompassing affection. Then Hesterturned to Mark, who stood pale and repressed, a sad smile on his lips.
"I only wish I were going to Pinkthorpe too," he said. "But we shallmeet there some day, I hope," he added, gazing at her wan face.
"So you will come, even after all?" she murmured. "Till then, Mark, Iwill keep my thanks for all your kindness, and for all your loving careof him--I have heard--Mr. Morpeth told me," she whispered, laying herhand in his.
In another moment he was gone, and was hurrying down the ladder to jointhe Massulah boat.
Hester stood watching the rocking craft which carried her friends acrossthe surf. The newly risen sun was shedding its golden light on thegreat rolling waters of the Bay of Bengal, and on the noble buildingsskirting the shore which were glittering like fabled marble palacesunder its bright rays. Beyond stretched vistas of stately trees alltinged by the glow, intersected by many a winding road and leafycompound where the scattered denizens of Madras camped during theirexile. Many spots were dear and familiar to Hester. Now the vision ofthe desolate house in Clive's Road rose before her; the early days whichseemed to promise as bright and fair as the golden dawn. Then theshattered hopes, the wrecked life, all passed in procession before herdimmed eyes as the familiar shores receded from her view, like thevanishing wake of the great steamer's track as it ploughed its waythrough the glistening waters.