For a moment Chandra stared incredulously. Then she realised this was Lord Frome’s answer to her complaint that she had only one gown.
She thought it would be impossible at first to accept such a present from him and, in fact, she ought not to do so.
Then she told herself that he was not thinking only of her but of himself and if she was well dressed it would reflect on him as her husband.
She lay down, but she found it difficult to sleep because she was so anxious to see herself in one of the saris.
She had long ago learnt how to wear one correctly when she and her mother had been in India together.
It had amused them in the evenings, when they were alone with her father, to dress up as if they were Indian women and to have dinner with him with flowers in their hair, wearing round their wrists the cheap glass bangles that could be bought in any native bazaar.
When Chandra had her bath, she put on a silk sari of the most exquisite shade of pink embroidered with silver.
She knew it was a most expensive garment and once again she felt a little qualm in case she should not have allowed Lord Frome to spend so much money on her.
Then she told herself it would be needlessly rude and very prudish to refuse his generosity.
After all, if she could pretend to be his wife, it was certainly ‘straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel’ to say that she was too conventional to accept a present.
The bodice fitted her well and she pleated the sari around her waist and fastened it at the front, then flung what was left of the conventional five yards of silk over her left shoulder.
The Nepalese maid clapped her hands with delight and then brought flowers from a table near the door to arrange them at the back of Chandra’s hair.
Tonight she made no effort at a fashionable coiffure, but instead parted her hair in the middle and let it wave as it did naturally on each side of her forehead and arranged it only in a high thick chignon at the back of her head.
Her maid fixed the flowers on either side of the chignon, then when Chandra gazed at herself in the mirror she realised that she had never looked more attractive or more unusual.
In fact, she appeared so unlike herself that she felt shy of letting Lord Frome or anyone else see her.
“Is there a party tonight?” she asked the maid.
The Nepalese girl shook her head and Chandra told herself that she was glad.
At the same time, in some ways, it made it more difficult to go downstairs and meet Lord Frome’s eyes.
Because time was getting on, she knew that she must not be late for dinner and she, at last, made the effort.
Slowly she walked down the big staircase and crossed the hall, wondering if the servants in their red and white uniforms thought it strange that she should be in native dress.
The door of the reception room was opened and she saw that two men were standing at the far end of the room with glasses in their hands.
Slowly she walked towards them conscious as she did so, that no one could walk in a sari without being graceful. Although she wanted, because she was shy, to bend her head and drop her eyes, she walked with her head high and her chin up.
The Resident came forward to meet her.
“My dear Lady Frome!” he exclaimed. “May I congratulate you on your appearance? I have never seen an Englishwoman who could look so right or indeed so beautiful in a sari!”
Chandra smiled at his compliment, then almost as if she was compelled against her will, she looked at Lord Frome.
For a moment it was difficult, in some way she could not understand, to see his face.
Then she saw that he was smiling and there was undoubtedly an unexpected glint of admiration in his eyes.
CHAPTER SIX
As they were reaching almost the end of the Temples and the houses where they could still ride side by side, Lord Frome breaking a long silence, said to Chandra,
“I have bad news for you.”
She looked at him in surprise and he explained,
“We have to leave tomorrow!”
“Tomorrow?” she ejaculated. “I cannot believe it! But why? What has happened?”
“The Prime Minister has refused to extend our permit.”
“Why should he do that? He and his wife have been so charming to us. Only last night she was suggesting that we should dine with them in a few days’ time.”
“I don’t suppose the Prime Minister discusses the affairs of Government with his wife,” Lord Frome responded dryly.
“But why should he refuse to allow us to stay?”
“I am informed that it is Government policy, which of course, is true,” he answered. “But I was quite certain, in fact I was told, that it would be easy once we were here to persuade the Prime Minister to allow us to stay as long as we wished.”
“Then why should he change his mind?”
“There could be various reasons,” Lord Frome replied, “but I think actually, he agrees with the Resident that the Sanskrit manuscripts should be kept in the Monasteries and not be allowed to leave the country.”
Chandra gave a deep sigh.
“I suppose one can understand their point of view. At the same time, what good are they doing just lying on the shelves getting dusty? And the thoughts they contain not having a chance to reach the outside world?”
“Which would pay little attention to them anyway,” Lord Frome added dryly.
Chandra reckoned that this was true, but she felt with a sense of despair that it was tragic that their work should come to an end so swiftly.
During the last few days it had been a delight beyond anything she could express to work in the library at the Monastery and discuss with Lord Frome the merits of every manuscript they examined.
Besides there was always at the back of their minds, the hope that at any moment they might find the Lotus Manuscript.
When they had returned to the Residency, there was either a party being given for them by Colonel Wylie or they dined in one of the huge Palaces that belonged to the family of the Prime Minister.
Chandra to her delight had seen the leaping fountains that were illuminated with coloured lights and found many of the treasures in the huge Palaces were centuries old and so beautiful that she longed for Lord Frome to take them back with him when they left the country.
Perhaps, she thought now, that was one of the things they were afraid he might do which had resulted in the Prime Minister curtailing his visit to Nepal.
The more she came to know the Nepalese, the more she realised they wished their country to be kept secret and closed to foreigners.
They were completely happy in their own small Eden and did not wish for the encroachment of alien people with their revolutionary ideas.
But it was a shock to know that they must leave and without having attained their main objective.
They had ridden for some minutes before Chandra said,
“That means there is only today to find what we seek.”
“And there are still thousands of manuscripts we have not yet examined,” Lord Frome added.
“Could you not see the Prime Minister yourself and plead with him to let us stay a little while longer?” Chandra suggested.
As she spoke, she knew that where she was concerned it would be almost an agony to leave this enchanted place and the work she was doing with Lord Frome.
When they were actually in the Monastery, he seemed a different person from the way he was outside.
Excited by the manuscripts they examined together, he would talk with an enthusiasm that was quite different from his somewhat grim reserve at other times.
Now, Chandra thought, they would only have that tough difficult journey back over the mountains and, once they reached India, Lord Frome would say goodbye to her and she would never see him again.
The knowledge that this lay ahead gave her a strange feeling she had never had before.
She did not wish to explain it even to herself, but she knew
that she would remember this visit to Nepal all the days of her life and, although she was ashamed to admit it, The Manor where there was little to do but worry over money would seem in contrast drab and dull.
‘I shall be with Papa,’ she thought.
But she knew, although it was hard to face the truth that her father when he was well was quite self-sufficient without her, while Lord Frome needed her.
Any doubts he might have had about her ability had all been swept away and he deferred to her judgement over every manuscript they took down from the shelves.
He had never questioned her authority on its age as another scholar of equal learning might have done.
‘I shall miss him,’ she told herself unexpectedly.
She rode behind him when the road narrowed and once again they were meeting the peasants coming into the town from the countryside.
To some of them they were already a familiar sight and they smiled and nodded as they hurried by at their jog-trot, which never varied and which Chandra knew they could keep up not only for hours but for days on end.
They reached the Monastery and, after the usual greeting by the trumpets with the monks and the Lama waiting at the gateway, they were left alone in the library.
Chandra pulled off her hat and jacket for it was very warm and then stood looking around at the shelves.
“As this is our last chance,” she said after a moment, “to find the Lotus Manuscript, you would think that one would feel its holiness vibrating towards us and that we should be drawn to it automatically.”
“What do you feel?” Lord Frome asked.
She was surprised at his question, thinking that he might instead have laughed at her for being fanciful.
“I feel,” she answered, “as if everything around us is good and has something to say which we should listen to, but there is nothing that draws me particularly, nothing I feel that vibrates with an – inescapable sanctity.”
She gave a little sigh.
“It must be that I am not advanced enough spiritually for an awareness of the Lotus Manuscript.”
There was silence and then Lord Frome said,
“We will just pick out something at random. I have already agreed with the Abbot to buy all those we have chosen so far and he is delighted at the sum he will receive.”
“Do you think he knows that the Lotus Manuscript is in the Monastery?” Chandra asked in a low voice.
“I have no idea,” Lord Frome answered, “and I could not mention it to him.”
“No, of course not,” she agreed.
She reached up as she spoke to take a manuscript from the shelf.
It was wrapped in a lovely piece of embroidered Chinese silk, but the contents did not justify the wrapping and, after she had looked at it, she put it back from where she had taken it.
Perhaps it was because she was over-eager, Chandra thought several hours later, that today they had been unlucky.
The manuscripts they examined were not particularly interesting and it was only after luncheon that Lord Frome found one that appeared to be of significance.
Chandra picked it up and began to translate it to herself.
She took so long that Lord Frome said impatiently,
“Well? Is it worthwhile?”
“It’s wonderful!” Chandra cried. “Quite wonderful!”
“Why?” he enquired.
“It is very old,” she said after a moment, “and written almost like a poem and it is called, unless I am mistaken, The Song of the Celestial Soul.”
She was sitting at the table as she read it and Lord Frome bent over her to say,
“You are certain that is the right translation? It sounds different from anything else we have found.”
“It is different,” Chandra said, “and I know Papa would be thrilled to translate it for you. It is very old and written in the difficult Sanskrit at which he excels.”
“Then we must certainly take it back to him,” Lord Frome suggested.
“He will be very excited and it will at least be some compensation if we cannot find the Lotus Manuscript.”
“We still have a little while left,” Lord Frome said, looking at his watch, “so don’t let’s waste any more time.”
Chandra wrapped up the manuscript they had been looking at and left it in the centre of the table, then once again went towards the shelves.
As she did so, the door of the room opened and there entered a Lama they had never seen before, but who she recognised at once was a man of great seniority.
He was tall, far taller than the Abbot of the Monastery and robed and hooded in yellow while the other monks wore red. One shoulder was bare and from it the drapery fell to his feet.
He stood for a moment looking at them, then he threw back his hood and as Chandra saw his shaven head and his face, she knew that he was different from any of the monks and Lamas they had met already.
He gave the impression of power and also of such spiritual attainment that instinctively, without even thinking, she put her hands palm to palm and made the greeting of namaskar, raising her fingers to her forehead.
“Greetings, my children!” the Lama said in a deep voice and to Chandra’s surprise he spoke in English.
No one else in the whole Monastery whom they had met so far spoke anything but their own language.
He did not wait for their reply, but said to Chandra, looking at what lay on the table,
“I see you have found The Song of the Celestial Soul. It is a work that you must take to your honourable father and it will bring him great merit both in this world and those to come.”
Chandra knew that Lord Frome was extremely surprised and she could almost read his thoughts in thinking how extraordinary it was that this Lama, who they had never seen before, should talk as if he was familiar with them and with the Professor.
The Lama now addressed Lord Frome.
“I know you are disappointed, my Lord, that you must leave tomorrow,” he said, “but as it happens, there is no more for you to do here.”
“But we have not been able to look at half the manuscripts we would have liked to examine,” Lord Frome replied.
“I know what you seek,” the Lama said, “but all your searchings in this room will not find it.”
Both Chandra and Lord Frome looked at him in a startled manner as he went on,
“But because I believe your interest is not selfish, but for the good of mankind, I will show you what you have wished to see even though you may not take it with you.”
“You are referring to the Lotus Manuscript?” Lord Frome asked in a carefully controlled voice.
“We have other names for it, more sacred ones,” the Lama answered, “and I will not ask you how you knew it was here in this Monastery. I will only inform you that, because such a closely guarded secret has reached your ears, I must take it elsewhere.”
To Chandra’s surprise Lord Frome smiled.
“I did not really believe I should have the good fortune to be able to take it away unnoticed.”
A faint smile curved the Lama’s lips.
“That, my Lord, would have been impossible!” he said, “and it is not yet time for the world to learn of the contents of this sacred manuscript. One day men’s minds will be big enough to hear and understand the truth it contains, but not now.”
He looked at Chandra and seeing the disappointment in her eyes he said quietly,
“Be content, my child, with the good that will come from your father’s translation of The Song of the Celestial Soul and, so that you will not go unrewarded for the work you have done, come with me.”
He made a gesture with his hand which included both of them and they followed him through the open door and down several long dark passages that were like a rabbit warren.
There was no one else to be seen and Chandra felt that it was perhaps an order that they should move quietly, as if through time and space with no one to watch them.
Then at last their guide,
who had walked silently in front of them, stopped to pass through an open door that led into a small Temple.
It was so small that Chandra felt it was like a Chapel and she knew that it was the Temple that must be in the heart of the building and where the Abbot himself worshipped.
At first it was difficult to see anything but two or three flickering lights which were just wicks in bowls of oil.
Then she saw a huge statue of the Buddha towering towards the ceiling.
He sat enthroned on a lotus and, as Chandra looked up at the serene face she could feel, as she had not felt in the library, great waves coming towards her which were magnetically inescapable.
Because it was very awe-inspiring and at the same time so exciting that she felt as if she could hardly breathe, she moved almost unconsciously a little closer to Lord Frome and slipped her hand into his.
She felt his fingers close over hers and she sensed as he touched her that he was as excited as she was.
In front of them the Lama knelt before the great figure of the Buddha in prayer and then he rose and reached up to take something from the upturned hands.
He turned round and they saw that he held a narrow wooden box carved with strange hieroglyphics.
There was no need for either Chandra or Lord Frome to ask what the box contained.
It was obvious from the way the Lama held it and in the expression on his face.
They took a step forward to stand directly in front of him.
Then slowly and reverently he raised the lid of the box and they saw lying inside on a bed of satin, the manuscript they had sought.
Chandra knew that it was written on palm leaves and even at a glance she could tell how immensely old it was.
There was something else, something that emanated from it which was so vital, so vibrant, that she knew that, if it had been in the library, they would have been drawn to it irresistibly from the first moment they entered the room.
Instinctively, still holding onto Lord Frome’s hand, Chandra went down on her knees and with hardly a second’s pause he knelt beside her.
“Now you have seen what you were seeking,” the Lama said very quietly, “and have been privileged as few others and certainly as no one who is not of our faith has been. Remember it in your hearts, but keep what you have seen to yourselves, for there are always those who would spoil and destroy that which is too sacred for them to understand.”
Love in the Clouds Page 13