Part 5 (2/2)
”Yes, Mrs. Fellowes told me she used to be one of those till you enlightened her.”
”And now she proves a priceless helper to a cla.s.s that troubles me even more than the loafers, and for which neither you nor I can do anything,”
said Mr. Morpeth, with a frank smile. ”Those scores of young women who live sordid, useless, aimless lives, the daughters perhaps of decent, hard-working fathers. Those girls ought to be earning a livelihood, but false notions of 'shabby gentility'--shall we call it?--impels them to lounge about all day with the proverbial idle hands which the Evil One finds so handy. From poor warrens of homes they come forth bedecked in tawdry finery that they spend their lives in sticking together. Faugh, it makes one ill to see them lolling about their pandals and ogling at pa.s.sers-by,” Mr. Morpeth added, with a truly British shrug of his shoulders which brought a smile to Mark Cheveril's face. ”It is these eyesores,” he went on, ”that Mrs. Fellowes and one or two like-minded helpers have tackled. Some of them don't even know how to write or add up a sum, though they are full-grown women, and their powers of reading are so lame that many among them cannot read the simplest story with ease or pleasure, though, I understand, some are great readers and devour 'yellow backs.' Mrs. Fellowes has inst.i.tuted sewing cla.s.ses, and we are beginning to have higher ambitions. We mean to get them bred as printers. The compositor's trade seems specially suited for women; and Mrs. Fellowes has great plans of having them properly trained as ladies'
nurses, and is already trying to enlist the Medical Staff on their behalf. Then we have a little pet scheme of getting the more deft-fingered apprenticed to watchmakers and jewellers. We think they might be in requisition for the zenanas where jewellery is so all important.”
”But what about the young men? Is it only the women who have sunk to such a state of do-nothingness?”
”Ah, it is in them my hope lies! They are my sons,” said Mr. Morpeth, with an eager smile. ”To make them more manly, more truthful, to make their souls--that is what I live for now! You may guess then,” he added slowly, fixing his eyes on Mark, ”how glad an hour struck for me this morning when you made yourself known as one brave enough to come to the rescue!”
”As a humble volunteer only. But I recognise the claim, and here I am! I was going to ask you, surely there are many among the Eurasians who ought to make their way into various services? I have wondered, for instance, why they should be debarred from the army ranks?”
”And many of them have hereditary connection with the British Army too!
I confess it has always seemed to me that connection should be fostered.
The ranks of the Native Infantry are of course impossible. They could not live as sepoys. Some have distinguished themselves as lawyers, doctors, magistrates, and are in receipt of incomes that would astonish their forefathers. But, alas, many of these try to repudiate their connection with the despised race; from them we often get only sneering words and black looks.”
”Base, I call that! But all the more honour to the chivalrous helper!”
”Well, I often think if they could only see what a short-sighted policy their att.i.tude is, even from a selfish point of view, I should not encounter the opposition I do when I seek posts for really capable young men. Why, they often prefer natives in offices! In fact, it is the declared policy of the Imperial Government that appointments should be reserved only for pure Indians. A false policy to my mind, and one that in the end will not strengthen the British Raj! But I must not preach sedition to a Covenanted member of the Service! I am forgetting myself!”
”By no means; your point of view is valuable to me. I seek enlightenment. It does seem the irony of fate that such a state of matters should exist. I feel it is a good omen, Mr. Morpeth, that I should so early in my day have met with an inspirer like you. I shall not be able to give you the help I might had I not been going to Puranapore. But whatever I can do is at your service. You must let me help you with your various organisations. My income is much more than sufficient for my personal wants,” said Mark, as he rose to go.
”Well, rupees are needed, as Mrs. Fellowes will tell you. She is an excellent beggar! But I hold now what I value more than silver and gold,” said David Morpeth, as the young man laid his hand in his. ”That is the clasp of a friendly hand. May it prove a hand that shall undo heavy burdens, loose the bands of wickedness, to let the oppressed go free, and break every yoke, as the prophet calls on us to do in a voice that rings through the ages!”
As Mark Cheveril looked into the face of the lonely man, he felt the spell of the beauty of holiness, and was more glad than ever that he had made his first call on one so stimulating, though his name was not on Mr. Alfred Rayner's visiting list.
As he waited at the white gate while Mr. Morpeth's butler was signalling to the drowsy syce to bring up the carriage, Mark was accosted by a young woman who had evidently been hanging about the neighbourhood of the cactus-hedge which skirted the compound. She was a weedy-looking girl, with a slender swaying figure dressed in tawdry finery, but her face was undeniably pretty.
”One of Mrs. Fellowes' _protegees_, no doubt,” Mark decided, and was about to step into the carriage when the girl said breathlessly, keeping her eye fixed furtively on the white gate evidently in fear lest the master of the house should put in an appearance:
”I'm awfulee sorry to trouble you, sir, but I saw you in a lovelee mail-phaeton with Mr. Alf Rayner last night, and when I spied you steppin' in here I thought I should make so bold as to ask where he's livin' now--Alf, I mean?”
Mark felt distinctly surprised at this familiar mention of his friend's husband, all the more as he recalled Mr. Rayner's remarks concerning the domiciled community to which this girl evidently belonged.
Perceiving his hesitation, the girl hastened to explain:
”You see, sir, I've been away in Calcutta for months and months, so I'm a bit behind in news of my friends.”
”Then Mr. Rayner is your friend?”
”He's all thatt,” responded the girl, with a giggle which at once decided Mark that he was probably dealing with an impostor who might give trouble to his hostess.
”I don't feel at liberty to give you the address you ask. But if you know Mr. Morpeth, or Mrs. Fellowes, they will no doubt see you,” added Mark hesitatingly.
”Ho, so you think I'm 'a case,' do you? You want to hand me over to them, I see! Don't you trouble! I'll find Mr. Rayner on my own account,”
said the girl, tossing her head as she went off with rapid steps.
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