Part 6 (1/2)
CHAPTER VI.
Sometimes when Mr. Morpeth felt specially wearied with the labours of the previous evening, he varied his early morning walk by a drive in his little victoria. To-day he had allowed his syce to drive him along the winding roads of the suburbs, heedless whither he was being carried.
Rousing himself at length from his reverie, he saw he had now reached the green precincts of Nungumbauk.u.m, and decided to take a stroll. He alighted, and directed his syce to follow while he walked along the road.
As he pa.s.sed one of the houses he overheard sounds of bitter weeping from the other side of the straggling hedge. A gap in the thicket--a mode of exit much favoured by the native servants--permitted him to catch a glimpse of a little native girl. Sobs painful to his kind heart fell on his ear, and pausing in his walk, he asked in Tamil;
”What ails you, little one?”
The child glanced up with startled air and, peering through the twisted tendrils, caught sight of the speaker. Encouraged by the kind voice and seeing its owner was in European dress, she replied in the best English she could muster, the words broken by sobs:
”Please, sah, Missus say I done steal gold ring. I never done no such ting. My heart done break. I not want to live one minute more. I go drown in tank!”
”Then you did not touch your Missus' ring, little girl?”
”Oh, no, no, I not once touch Missus' ring,” wailed the child. ”But what I do? n.o.body believin' me. Ramaswamy butler hurt werry sore to make me 'fess,” and again the dusky head was bent in low weeping.
”What's the matter with your hand?” asked Mr. Morpeth, observing that her right hand was rolled in a comer of her red saree. ”Let me see it!”
The small brown hand was obediently held out, showing swollen and bleeding fingers. Little chips of wood, of which some fragments remained, had been pushed under the nails, lacerating the flesh.
”H'm, torture! Just as I suspected!” muttered Mr. Morpeth. ”Who did this?”
”Butler done take me into G.o.down make me 'fess. When I no 'fess, he make fingers plenty sore”; and again the child burst into convulsive sobs.
Just then the sound of voices was heard, and the girl leapt from her hiding-place with a look of terror, only to come into view of a stout matron and a young lady who were approaching the dividing hedge between their own and their neighbour's compound.
”There's the little thief, I declare!” exclaimed the young lady, catching a glimpse of the red saree. ”And see this gap in the hedge, she's no doubt made it flying from justice.”
”Well, it will serve our purpose, for I must go at once and tell Mrs.
Rayner how disappointingly her _protegee_ has turned out,” said Mrs.
Harbottle, crossing the dividing line.
”How could you expect anything else, mama? Mrs. Rayner has only been two months in the country,” returned the young lady, with the scorn of new-comers bred of two cold weathers in India.
”Look, the creature's going to slip through our fingers after all. She's making a dart through the hedge to the road”; and Miss Harbottle, hurrying forward, pounced upon the child, and seized the maimed hand still rolled in the saree, causing her to shriek with pain.
”Be quiet, you wicked little thing! I believe you're hiding my ring there. Give it up this instant, or I shall tell Mrs. Rayner what a thief you've turned into. A nice whipping you'll get from her ayah, your old granny; and I hear you tried to bite my butler into the bargain!”
”Ai, Missus, I not done nossin' bad. I not done steal ring! I not done bite butler, he only bleeding my fingers,” the child wailed. Remembering the kind face which had looked pityingly upon her from the other side of the hedge, she sprang towards the gap, but the friendly figure had disappeared and Miss Harbottle's fingers were gripping her shoulder like a vice and dragging her along the compound.
Rosie was the granddaughter of Mrs. Rayner's ayah. She was a comely little maid with great l.u.s.trous eyes. Her home had been in the G.o.down with her grandmother, who, as all good ayahs do, considered it her function to keep watch and ward over her mistress's belongings, and it early struck Hester that the child must have a very lonely life. She had already grown fond of her ayah, who was indeed worthy of her confidence, being one of the best of her type. The bright, delicate-featured old face, with its nut-brown colouring, framed by wavy grey hair, and the ready responsive smile, had at once attracted her. The ayah, on her side, was devoted to her young mistress, and was not long in telling her of her two treasures, Jan and Rosie, the boy and girl of her dead daughter. For Jan, she had managed to find service, but she had never been able to make up her mind to part with the winning little Rosie. The child, too, was useful to her in many ways. She found her rice always prepared for her to her liking when she went for her mid-day and evening meals. Rosie did a little ”t.i.tching” too, the ayah a.s.sured Mrs. Rayner, but as her clothes were merely lengths of coloured muslin draped gracefully about her little person, there were not many seams to sew.
The ayah had the voluble and quaint command of English common to Madra.s.see servants, and in a wonderful way had been able to impart it to Rosie, though, as to reading English, that was beyond even granny ayah herself. What a joy it was to her therefore when one day her mistress called Rosie to her and gave her her first lesson! The little girl was bright and intelligent, and Hester had pa.s.sed hours which might have hung heavy on her hands in teaching her to read, and in telling her the simple stories she had been wont to relate to her young brothers at home. The ayah meanwhile would pa.s.s and repa.s.s on tiptoe, stealing joyful glances at her mistress and the little maid. Thus, in so short a time, a strong link was forged between the young English lady and the ayah's granddaughter. When therefore Mrs. Harbottle chanced to find Rosie so honoured, and heard her connection with her neighbour's excellent ayah, she set her heart on having her as an a.s.sistant to her own dull, heavy-featured attendant. Hester decided that such a beginning, so near the watchful grandmother, was a favourable chance for Rosie, and the bargain was concluded.
All hitherto had gone smoothly, and great was Hester's consternation, when looking out from the verandah of her bedroom where she sat busy with her home-mail, she perceived Mrs. Harbottle and her daughter dragging Rosie across the lawn. Hurrying downstairs she was met by a voluble tale from the two ladies in chorus.
”But are you sure the ring is really lost?” she asked in an undertone.
”Things often turn up again--are only mislaid.”