"You handle a horse well," I said.
"Oh ... the trap. It's easy. I am half English, remember. I was
brought up diflPerently from the girls of my mother's country. I look like them, do I not? But I am strong. You will see, Sarah. You must tell me about England. There is so much I want to know. I remember your mother faintly. A soft voice which I liked to Hsten to. I don't recall what she looked like, but she was very beautiful, I know."
"Yes, she was beautiful."
"And when she went away . . . That comes back to me too. The house silent ... my father's shutting himself away for days. A sort of gloom everywhere. But it was long ago. Sheba told me about it. She said she would never have fitted in and should never have come. But then Sheba loved my mother and did not think our father should have married again. But what a blessing he did, or you would not be here, Sarah."
We drove the same way as I had gone with Clinton on the previous night.
"When you go back," said Clytie, "I will show you the short cut through the woods. I am glad they left that part of the woods . . . jungle really. I beheve there is talk of cutting it down, too, and planting tea. I expect Clinton will want to do that."
"To whom does it belong?" I asked.
"It's half Shaw, half Ashington."
"Well," I said, "the Ashington part will not be cut down."
"If Clinton decides. . ."
"It will be a matter for me to decide surely."
"I see, Sarah, that you are a strong-minded woman."
We had arrived at the house. Clytie drove the trap into a yard and as we alighted two servants came out to look after the vehicle. I found it a httle unnerving the way in which these silent-footed servants appeared from nowhere when they were needed. I felt they must be watching us all the time so as to anticipate our needs; and although this could be very useful I had to admit it gave me an uncomfortable feeling.
It was pleasant to step into the house where it was much cooler than it was outside.
Clytie turned to me. "What first? I'll take you over the house, shall I? It's very similar to your own. Not a bit hke the Grange. My father used to tell me about it and I wondered whether I
should ever see it. I imagined it guarded by two dragons named Martha and Mabel who would keep me out"
"Those are the aunts. Martha is a bit formidable. The sort of woman who is going to get her own way at all costs." A horrible picture came into my mind of going into my mother's bedroom on that bitterly cold night. It was preposterous. I scarcely thought of it now. It was just an aberration which had come to me again out of the grief of my mother's death. "Mabel," I went on, "is less fierce. She just goes along with Martha."
"And you lived with them for a while. It would be different for you, Sarah. You are one of them."
"They were disapproving of my mother."
"The beautiful actress. How I wish I could remember her more clearly. Sometimes I lie in bed and try to think back, but all I can remember is Sheba's coming in one morning and saying 'She's gone' and her eyes were ghttering as though it was something to rejoice about."
"Tell me about Sheba. She interests me."
"Shall I have some cool drinks sent in? There is tea, of course . . . always tea. I daresay we drink even more than you do in England. It's the heat. . . ."
Almost as soon as she had spoken a servant appeared and lemonade was promptly served in tall glasses.
When we were alone, Clytie said: "You were asking about Sheba. She comes from an interesting family. Her brother Nankeen is Clinton's head man. He's clever. Clinton thinks highly of him. Nankeen made an unusual marriage. His wife was Portuguese. The Portuguese did settle here at one time, you know. The professional classes sprang from them and from the Dutch, who were also here. Nankeen is a very handsome man and he attracted this beautiful girl of quite good family. They married. Your Leila is one of the children. Then there is Ashraf, who works on our plantation. Then there is. . . another daughter. . . ."
"What does she do?"
Clytie hesitated. "Oh, Anula is rather unusual. . . . She has her own house. She is reckoned to be one of our great beauties. And she is supposed to have what they call 'powers.'"
"How interesting. I hope I shall meet her."
"Well,er. . .youmight."
"Is there some mystery about this. . . Anula?"
"Oh ... no ... no .. . not really. Her family are rather in awe of her. Sheba talks of her as though she is divine. Family pride, that's all. You were asking about Sheba. She came to serve my mother and when I was born she became my nurse. She was a mother to me. She is devoted to me . . . and now to Ralph. I know he is safe with her. In time we shall have a tutor for him ... an English tutor. Perhaps he'll go away to England to school. Seth wants him to."
"It must be wonderful to have such a lovely little boy."
"He is my life. I love him beyond all things."
"And Seth?"
"Yes, I love Seth too. It is different. Perhaps when you have a child you will understand."
We had finished our drinks and she stood up. "Shall I show you the house now?"
I said I should like that and she took me round. It was spacious and very similar to Clinton's.
Ralph was out, she told me. He was having a riding lesson. "It is necessary to be able to manage a horse out here. Though of course we have the railway, which will take us either to Kandy or Colombo, but for getting around locally one often needs a horse. Now let us go into the garden."
We stepped down. I had noticed that this house, like ours, was raised above the ground. I asked why and Clytie told me that it was a protection against the termites.
"They abound," she said, "and they go about in armies of thousands . . . perhaps millions. They would march through a house, eating their way so that in a few hours when they passed on there would be nothing left of it. Just a shell. So we build in this way. These supports you see have been specially treated to keep them off."
"How awful! To go away and come back to find your house nothing but a shell."
"It has happened. There are hazards we face out here, Sarah, which you have not dreamed of. You must be careful of the insects. Living here, we have become somewhat immune but you
will have to get acclimatized. Beware of the mosquitoes. They are the greatest pest and dangerous too."
"I seem to have a good deal to beware of."
There was something English about her garden, and when I pointed it out she said: "Yes, it was as our father wished it. Here we are able to grow some plants which grow in England."
It was true. Among the exotic blooms were rhododendrons, geraniums and guelder roses.
"These will remind me of home," I said.
It was a pleasant hour I spent in the garden with Clytie. The more I saw her the more I was drawn towards her. The fact that she was not entirely of my own race gave her a strangeness which was piquant and attractive.
I think what struck me most as I wandered among the beautiful flowers was the presence of teeming life all around. The air was full of the hum and buzz of insects. Clytie said she did not notice it and I should grow accustomed to it in time. There was an abundance of life and growth due to the heavy rains and the hot sun. There was one moment when I touched the branch of a shrub and recoiled in horror for the branch had become alive. It walked. I stared in shocked horror.
Clytie laughed at me. "It's a stick insect. It looks just like a piece of branch. That's its disguise."
"It looks uncanny."
"You'll get used to it. Everything must seem strange at first but soon you'll be taking everything for granted. I hope I shall see you often, and you have Clinton. . . ." She was looking at me rather anxiously, as though inviting confidences.
"Oh yes," I said, "Clinton."
"We were surprised when we heard he was married."
"Were you? After all he is not so young."
"But he never seemed inclined . . ."
"I daresay he came to England to look f
or a wife," I said, attempting to speak light-heartedly.
"Well, he found one and it all worked out well. Sarah, Seth's a little anxious . . . about this place."
"What about it?"
"What will Chnton do?"
"It's not for Clinton to do anything. It's mine. I know nothing about it but I'm determined to learn. I'm going to ask Seth to show me things."
"I don't think Clinton exactly approves of Seth. Seth always imagines he's critical."
"Clinton would expect too much from people perhaps."
She looked at me oddly. "Yes," she said slowly, "perhaps he would. When our father was alive ever'thing went smoothly, Seth had done well. Our father was pleased with him. You must forgive us if naturally we thought. . ."
"You can speak freely with me, Clytie. You and Seth thought the plantation would come to you. That was natural."
"It would have been better the other way round."
"What do you mean . . . the other way round?"
"The pearls to you, the plantation to me. But I was the elder and there was tradition. I hate the things. I think they bring bad luck."
"You have them here, Clytie?"
"Yes. Seth thinks they should be in the bank. They are sometimes. But I have to wear them every now and then. Pearls should be worn, you know. It's as though they sulk if they're not. They lose their luster. At least that's what I've heard. Our father used to make me wear them. We're going to have a ball to celebrate your arrival. I shall be expected to wear them then."
"I'd like to see them. I have heard so much about them. Are they really as wonderful as they are made out to be?"
"You shall see for yourself."
"They are spoken of with such awe. They must be worth a fortune."
"Oh yes, far more than the plantation. But the plantation would have been better for us. Clinton is sure to take over. That's what Seth is afraid of. Sarah, what if Clinton should want to replace Seth?"
"He couldn't. I shouldn't allow it."
"I have never known anyone really to stand up against him."
"Well, you don't really know me yet, do you, Clytie?" I felt a sudden lifting of my spirits. He was not going to rule me. He had made a mistake if he thought he had made an easy conquest and
through my gullibility he had acquired what he wanted—the Ash-ington plantation.
It is mine, Clinton Shaw, I said to myself there in that scented garden. And this is something you will have to learn.
There was a sudden shout of pleasure as Ralph came into the garden. He looked very charming in a suit of Shantung silk, his dark hair shining, his eyes alight with excitement and a faint glow in his cheeks.
"Mama!" he cried. Then he saw me and hung back a little.
"It's your Aunt Sarah," said Clytie. "You know her. You met her yesterday."
He nodded and turned to his mother. "Mama, I saw a cobra. He came after us. He was going to bite me. I trod on him and then he stood up. He was big. . . ." The boy lifted his hands as high as he could. "He hissed at me."
Clytie had gone pale with horror.
A Singhalese came forward, hands folded across his chest, head slightly bowed. "No, missee," he said. "No cobra. No danger to little one."
"It was a cobra/' shouted Ralph, his face growing scarlet. "It was... it wasl"
"Well, what happened then?" said Clytie, her voice calm. "Come and tell Aunt Sarah and me all about it."
"We were riding in the woods," cried Ralph. "We tied up the horses and walked a bit. Then the cobra came along."
"And how did you get rid of him?"
"I shot him."
"What with?"
"My bow and arrow."
"But you didn't have your bow and arrow with you."
"I made one."
Clytie ruffled his hair. "Ralph has the most marvelous imagination," she said.
"What's imagination?"
"Romancing."
"What's romancing?"
"What you do, my cherub."
"Is it nice?"
"Well, if you don't carry it too far."
"Is it heavy?"
"What a boy!" said Clytie fondly. "And you haven't said hello to Aunt Sarah yet."
"Hello, Aunt Sarah. Do you like snakes?"
"I shouldn't think so. I have never seen one."
"Why not?"
"Because there aren't many—only a few little ones—where I come from."
"Is that why you came away?"
"Well, not exactly."
"I'll show you Cobbler. Mama, I'm going to show Aunt Sarah Cobbler."
"Where is he?"
"I know. I know."
He was off. Clytie was laughing as she said to me: "You'll have to be very much in awe of Cobbler. He's a life-size toy cobra. A horrible thing. Ralph loves him dearly. He's had him for some months but he's still a favorite. He couldn't say cobra at that time and he called the thing Cobbler. That's how he got his name."
Ralph had appeared dragging what certainly did look Hke a deadly snake with him.
"There's Cobbler," he said. "Does he frighten you. Aunt Sarah?"
"He is rather frightening."
It was true. The thing was so lifelike. I examined the yellow glass eyes on either side of his head.
"I can make his tongue come out," said Ralph. "You press it here. See. He's going to bite you, Aunt Sarah. Oh he's a bad wicked Cobbler. But I won't let him. I'd kill him with my bow and arrow if he bit you."
"Well, now you've met Cobbler," said Clytie. "Where is he going now, Ralph?"
"I'll put him under the bush. He likes it there."
We watched him. He was indeed a beautiful child. When he came back his mother took one hand and I the other and we went towards the house.
"Sleepy Sam said hello," he said.
"You didn't go near him, I hope," replied his mother. "Sleepy Sam is an old crocodile. Quite harmless now I'm sure. There is a sluggish river running through the woods. The banks are marshy. Watch out for the crocodiles when you pass it."
"What's sluggish?" asked Ralph.
"Just lazy."
"Like Sleepy Sam?"
"Did you really see him?"
"Yes, he said he was tired and wouldn't bite me."
Sheba came to take Ralph. She nodded her head at me with a sort of grudging welcome. Ralph ran to her and embraced her round the knees. He started telling her how he had slain a cobra with his bow and arrow.
"It's time for your dinner, you bold bold boy," she said. "And then a Httle rest eh?"
"Oh Sheba, I'm not going to rest. I'm going . . . I'm going"— he looked at us all mischievously—"I'm going to shoot a cobra."
"You're going to keep away from the nasty old creatures, Master Ralphie, or Old Sheba vdll want to know the reason why."
Ralph came and kissed his mother, and then, rather shyly, me. Sheba took him away.
"She resents anyone he takes a fancy to and he's rather fond of his riding master," said Clytie. "She'll complain that he is allowed to get himself dirty and is led into danger. . . and it is all because she can't bear anyone to do anything for him. She was like that with me. Now she has transferred her affection to Ralph. You know what these nurses are."
I didn't. Perhaps someday I should tell her about the sort of upbringing I had had in Denton Square.
Luncheon was brought to us in the dining room and we ate a fish called seer, which Clytie told me was a form of scomber. "I ordered it for you because it was different and you want to try everything. We do have carp, whiting, mullet and dories—all of which I think you have in England. You see, being half English I was always eager to learn all I could about England, so I do know a httle."
We ate mangoes and tiny sweet bananas, which were delicious.
As we sat talking I said to Clytie: "You were going to show me the necklace."
"So I was. Come upstairs. It's in the safe."
We went to the bedroom she shared with Seth. Taking a key, she unlocked a door and we stepped into a kind
of dressing room. It was small and contained a desk and two chairs as well as the safe. She shut the door after us.
"The servants don't come in here," she said, "I dust it myself. The necklace is kept here in the safe. It is so valuable that the legends build up round it. It is supposed to be unlucky and it's said that it would bring bad luck if it fell to anyone outside the family. I am sure it was to frighten off thieves that that story was put about. You see when so much money is wrapped up in one thing, some people would risk anything to possess it. The servants wouldn't come in here if I asked them to. It works well."
"What a fuss about a few pearls!"
"Dear Sarah, they are the Ashington Pearls," she said. "One of the finest sets in the world. You will see. Each pearl matches perfectly. Do you know anything about pearls?"
"I know what they look like."
She laughed. "Even if you know very little you will see how magnificent these are."
She went to the safe and began to open it. "It's easy," she said, "when you have the combination."
The door sprang open. She took out a large case in crocodile leather.
Reverently she laid it on the table. She touched the spring and the lid flew open. There were the Ashington Pearls.
I caught my breath in amazement, for they really were magnificent. They were lying on midnight-blue velvet . . . two rows of them, one about two feet long, iiie other slightly shorter. There was a luster about them that glowed with life. Each pearl was of a remarkable size and perfectly rounded and each matched every other pearl. I was fascinated by their pure luminous depth and I felt a great desire to touch them.
"Go on," said Clytie. "Pick them up. Look at them closely."
I put out my hand, but I did not touch them. Somehow I now felt reluctant to.
The clasp was dazzling. It was a combination of emeralds and diamonds. I looked closely at what seemed like a coil of rope made of diamonds. I saw then that the gems of the clasp represented a snake reclining among yew leaves. The snake's eye was an emerald and the leaves, like the snake's body, were diamonds.
The Spring of the Tiger Page 21