The Outcaste

by F. E. Penny

  CHAPTER XXIV

  Alderbury had been travelling over his district. As superintendingmissionary his presence was urgently needed in half a dozen places atonce as a rule, not to teach his converts hymns, but to govern theirtemporal business and to guide their spiritual affairs, to encouragethe faint-hearted and to shake the pastoral staff, metaphoricallyspeaking, in the faces of those who showed signs of the old Adam. Theyreceived his ministrations with admirable meekness and adored him allthe more for his reproof or praise. He loved his people in return, butthat fact did not blind him to their weaknesses.

  He journeyed in a country cart; not a luxuriously fitted bullock coachsuch as conveyed Pantulu and his wife to their destination, but averitable springless vehicle of the country with a hood of matting ofthe roughest description. At the bottom was laid a mattress. Betweenthe driver, who sat on the same plane with his feet on the pole, andthe mattress were piled the boxes and baskets containing thenecessaries of life required on the itinerating picnic. They formed akind of screen between the driver and the occupant of the cart. Theback of the hood was curtained with a piece of calico thick enough tokeep out the sun. The most comfortable position for the travellerwhether journeying by night or day was to lie down at full length withhis head towards the driver.

  Alderbury usually travelled by night for various reasons. It wascooler; it saved time; it was far more comfortable than sleeping at avillage school-house, where nothing but a mat was provided. In thisway he arrived at his destination soon after sunrise ready to begin theday's work of inspection, services, surplice duties, pastoral visitsand interviews with the native agents.

  It was just nine days since Ananda had disappeared. Wenaston wrote tothe missionary after Sooba's visit of inquiry and told him of theintrusion; he asked him to come on his way back and stay for a coupleof nights or more if he could spare the time. He thought somethingshould be done in the way of inquiry after the welfare of the convert,even though he had definitely refused help on a former occasion. Theletter followed Alderbury out into the district, and found him just intime to allow of his carrying out Wenaston's suggestion.

  From long practice in constant travelling Alderbury had learned tosleep fairly well in the cart, in spite of its jolts and jerks and thestrange utterances of the driver when he occasionally woke up and spoketo his cattle. On the morning when he intended to arrive at Chiraporehe roused himself before dawn; and sitting up as well as he could hedressed himself with more care than usual. He knew who would bewaiting for him in the trellised verandah with its mantle of blueipomea. In fancy he could see the tea-table laid out and the early teaready, a rack of crisp toast and the boiled eggs.

  There had been a shower in the night, and the air was fresh and cool.He jumped out at the back of the cart, without stopping the slowlymoving cattle, and strode forward with a superabundance of thatvitality which never seemed to fail him. The earth smelt sweet ofgrowing vegetation, and the rain had laid the dust and washed thefoliage. Here and there the scent from clusters of newly-openedblossom on the roadside trees permeated the air. On either side of theway spread cultivated fields and patches of garden, for the town wasnot far off, unconfined by any visible boundary. Pomegranate bushesshowed vivid spots of manderin scarlet where the flower promised fruit.All kinds of birds twittered and whistled and chirrupped in bush andtree. Noisiest of all were the barbets that never ceased theirmonotonous call.

  Alderbury's eye lingered over every detail with an inborn joyousnessthat put him in sympathy with all living creatures. The last mail fromEngland had brought him news that might change the current of his lifeand bring him into new and wider fields. It would mean harder workthan ever; heavier responsibilities; greater liabilities that wouldleave him if anything poorer rather than richer; but he was ready forall and everything if---- Ah, that little if! there was so much behindit. Prudence tried to reason and urged objections that were half trueand unproven. Was she sufficiently in sympathy with his work, with hisaims? Would she be a help? It would be fatal if she drew away andseparated her interests from his. The more he doubted the more blindlyhe loved and desired; the more eager he was to know his fate.

  The pale rays of the sun shot up above the horizon on the east, and thewhite sheets of mist lying on the fields seemed to shiver and shrink asthe merciless sun-god sent forth his heralds to give warning of hisapproach. Long-legged natives wrapped in rough black blankets strodetowards their tasks on the land, their brains still slumberous andtheir bodies still inert with sleep. The cows and buffaloes followedthe herdsman to the town, stopping before the doors where the milk wasawaited for the early morning coffee. Leisurely and without hasteIndia awoke to its daily round free from the fever and fuss that marksthe day in the west.

  Alderbury had the road to himself except for a municipal cart thatpassed now and then with the load gathered from the streets in thenight. Behind him rumbled his own conveyance which he was out-walkingrapidly. The cattle had done the journey well, and he was earlier thanhe dared to hope; yet for all that his walk, was quick and impetuous asthough he were drawn towards his goal in spite of himself.

  He arrived at the first house on the outskirts of the town. It was theone in which Pantulu's family lived. The household was astir and agroup of men stood in the verandah preparing to go out on their variouserrands and duties. From the midst burst Sooba who recognised themissionary although the latter was not acquainted with Pantulu'sbrother.

  "May I have a word with you, sir," asked Sooba.

  "With pleasure," replied Alderbury in some surprise. He had noadherents in Chirapore nor in the State, and for the moment he hadforgotten Ananda's existence. "What can I do for you?"

  "I wish to ask you a few questions about my nephew," said Sooba.

  "Yes; but tell me first who is your nephew?"

  As he spoke Alderbury looked up at the house and suddenly rememberedthe visit he had paid.

  "Of course, I recollect now. This is where Ananda lives. How is he?I hope he is well."

  Sooba glanced at the Englishman suspiciously, trying to hide hisdistrust under a forced smile.

  "My nephew sought your assistance some days ago, sir."

  "I think you are mistaken. I offered help but he refused it. Sincethat time I have neither seen nor heard of him, except the factmentioned by Dr. Wenaston in a letter, that he had left his home andthat you were under the impression that he had gone to the college. Itwas extremely kind of the Principal to allow you to go through hisprivate rooms. I am not sure that I should have been so obliging."

  Alderbury's voice had unconsciously assumed a tone of reproof, andSooba writhed inwardly under it.

  "Dr. Wenaston could not refuse, since a refusal would have been a tacitacknowledgment that he was harbouring a Christian and breaking hiscovenant with the Maharajah."

  "Not at all," replied Alderbury sharply. He did not like the manner ofthe man. "You took a great liberty. It was sufficient for allpurposes that he assured you Ananda was not there. What made you thinkthat your nephew had gone to him for help?"

  "The gardener gave me a hint that some one had arrived the nightbefore," said Sooba sullenly.

  "The gardener! Ah, the man owes his mistress a grudge. Thehousekeeper caught him stealing her roses. So that was how he took hisrevenge, and you were foolish enough to be made the instrument."

  "The gardener was right in saying that a visitor had arrived in thenight. The woman's son, a sick soldier, came in by the mail. I sawhim lying in her room drunk."

  "Where do you suppose your nephew has gone?" asked Alderbury notchoosing to discuss Mrs. Hulver with the man.

  "That is what I expect you to tell me, since he has been so foolish asto break his caste and join a religion that is acceptable to thepariahs and panchamas only."

  "Sorry I can't oblige you; good morning," said Alderbury, checking hisrising anger with difficulty.

  Sooba was left standing in the road. His eyes followed the athleticform of the
Englishman with no good will. He believed Alderbury whenhe declared his ignorance of Ananda's movements, because the drowningtheory commended itself for various reasons, and because he had alreadyascertained that his nephew was not at the mission station. Anandaought to be at the bottom of the well; every circumstance pointed toit. At the same time seeing the missionary on the road he thought itwas a good opportunity of speaking to him. At the back of his subtlemind was the hope that, in a chance conversation of the kind, he mightbe able to offer him some slight about which he could brag afterwardsto his friends. It was not necessary that Alderbury should notice andresent any discourtesy; it was sufficient that it should be shown; andit would go towards compensating the ill-conditioned man for thetreatment he had received from Mrs. Hulver.

  Alderbury knowing the Oriental suspected something of the kind, and hissuspicion was confirmed as soon as Christianity was mentioned. He putan end to the interview abruptly leaving Sooba with a sense of failurethat did not tend to smooth matters for him.

  The bullocks, recognising that they were not far off their haltingplace, put on a spurt and caught up the pedestrian, who dived into thecart from the back and sat cross-legged on his mattress until, withmuch jangling of bells, sighing and snorting of cattle, and creaking ofcart-wheels, he arrived under the portico of the college house. Thewelcome he so confidently anticipated struck no note of disappointment.

  Three hours later breakfast was over and Wenaston had departed to takeup his duties in the college. Eola was interviewing Mrs. Hulver andsettling the housekeeping programme for the day. She was inclined tobe absent-minded, her thoughts wandering to such an extent that she wasguilty of ordering two joints instead of one. Mrs. Hulver regardedthis lapse of memory with suspicion and recalled her young mistress tothe subject somewhat sharply.

  "Mr. Alderbury has a dainty appetite more suitable to a bishop than amissionary. He doesn't want two joints," she remarked.

  "Dear me! did I order two?" asked Eola in some confusion.

  "Yes, miss; you asked for a boiled hump of beef and a roast saddle ofmutton. The saddle you shall have to-morrow. The hump is for to-nightas it has been quite long enough in pickle. That with the fish andentrees will more than satisfy Mr. Alderbury. I don't hold with adaintiness above your station. As William--that was my second--used tosay: 'A private can't expect captain's grub, and a captain mustn't lookfor general's fare, else there'll be proud stomachs.'"

  "Have you ever seen a bishop?" asked Eola, feeling vaguely that shemust throw off suspicion and show an interest in Mrs. Hulver'sconversation.

  "Yes, miss, of course I have! Wasn't I confirmed by one? He was talland solemn and had a thin grey beard. He reminded me somehow--itwasn't his legs--of a picture in my father's big family bible of thegoat that was sent out by the Children of Israel into the wilderness."

  "The scape-goat that had to bear the sins of the people," said Eola,her eyes wandering through the house to the front verandah where shecould see her guest in the distance absorbed in his letters.

  "Yes, miss. The bishop was just like the picture. Hadn't he got tobear the sins of his people? and a very serious business it was too.When he confirmed me he gave me clean sheets and started me afresh; hetook my sins on him. I shouldn't like to be a bishop considering allhe has to bear and wear. The gaiters and the tights would be enough toput one off the job, even though the apron does lend a little decencyto the style. As William--that was my third--used to say: 'All are notsaints who go to church, or bishops and padres would have an easy timeof it.'"

  During this speech Eola's attention again wandered. Mr. Alderbury wasstill busy with his letters. As soon as he had finished reading hiscorrespondence she intended joining him.

  "Then that's all for this morning," she said, as Mrs. Hulver came to anend of her dissertation on church dignitaries.

  "You haven't ordered the pudding, miss."

  She made the announcement in the same manner in which she might havesaid, "You haven't said your prayers, miss."

  "I'm so sorry. What has cook brought? Green mangoes? Yes; they willdo nicely stewed; and a custard pudding."

  "Custard pudding!" repeated Mrs. Hulver with disdain. "It's thepudding Mr. Alderbury gets every other day of his life! and him withthe tastes of a bishop!"

  "Then I leave it to you, Mrs. Hulver. Now let me finish with theaccounts."

  Mrs. Hulver was more vigilant than ever this morning over Ramachetty'scharges. Miss Wenaston was clearly not fit for the matutinal crossingof swords with the sharp-witted butler, and it was the housekeeper'sduty to intervene and protect.

  "As William--that was my third--used to say: 'It's fatal to go intoaction unless you've got your wits about you and your guns are in goodorder,'" remarked Mrs. Hulver when she had checked the butler for thethird time.

  Eola did not see the point of her remark and Mrs. Hulver made noattempt to explain. The bazaar account book was closed with relief,and the butler and cook dismissed.

  "How is young William getting on?" asked Eola, preparatory todismissing her housekeeper as well.

  "He is nearly well, though I can't get the colour of his eye downaltogether. What his colonel will say to him to-morrow I don't know.He will have to be told the truth if he asks about the black eye."

  "He may not make any inquiries if he finds young William"--by commonconsent the adjective had been given to distinguish the son from thethree Williams of the former generation--"doing his work properly."

  "There are colonels and colonels, miss. Some can put on the blinkerswhen they think fit. Others shy and jib at everything that comeswithin sight. Fortunately young William's complexion helps a bit, andthe black eye doesn't show as it would if he were as fair as hisfather."

  "Then you think of sending him back to-morrow."

  "His leave will be up by that time."

  "I must tell my brother. He said he would speak to him about thecanteen and fighting."

  "It would do him good, miss; but to tell the truth I've said prettynearly all there is to be said and I haven't sounded cease firing yet."

  "I hope the scolding has not been overdone," said Eola, a wave of pityfor young William passing through her as she thought of the lecturesthe anxious mother had already given to her erring son.

  "No fear, miss. It's my chance and I haven't spared him. I shan't seeyoung William for some time to come. I've let him have it broadside,in the front and in the rear. As William--that was my third, and hewas a gunner--used to say, 'Don't spare powder and shot if you want toproduce a lasting impression on the enemy.' There's one thing I wantto ask you, miss. Is Mr. Alderbury going on from here by his carts orby train?"

  "By motor; the carts are to leave early to-morrow morning or to-night.The motor will be wanted after lunch to-morrow. The chauffeur mustspend the night at the mission bungalow and return the next day."

  "Then nothing will be needed for Mr. Alderbury's tiffin basket,"remarked Mrs. Hulver as though dismissing the subject since it did notconcern her any further.

  Eola caught sight of her guest pacing to and fro in the verandah andshe turned away to join him. Mrs. Hulver followed her.

  "I should be glad if you could spare me to-morrow for half a day. Ishould like to go to the station with young William and see him off.He will leave by an early train so as to get in in time to reporthimself before six."

  "By all means take as much time as you like."

  "Would you like to come and speak a word to young William, miss?"

  "No, please not; I really have nothing to say."

  "It would do him good if you just said as before; 'Let it be----'"

  Eola interrupted her hastily.

  "Oh, no, Mrs. Hulver; I am sure that more than enough has been said.Young William will be glad to get away."

  "Then the Doctor will come and talk to him."

  "Is it necessary? Don't you think he might be let off any furtherscolding?"

  "Well, miss; he has yet to face the sergeant and
perhaps the colonel.So it isn't done with yet; and he won't be out of the firing line tillhe has reported himself and had his dressing-down."

  "Then I am sure that he must be spared anything further from us."

  Mrs. Hulver's reply was to the effect that it should be as MissWenaston pleased. Ten minutes later the housekeeper might have beenseen, in a huge mushroom topee and with a large white umbrella,crossing the compound in the direction of the camping-ground chosen byAlderbury's driver and servant. In the afternoon business took her tothe town to make some purchases for young William, she explained toRamachetty.