Part 7 (2/2)
More embarra.s.sed than ever, a happy thought occurred to the young man.
”So sorry I can't ask you to come in to-day. I've got a visitor and must really hurry off to him. But look here, Leila, sorry to hear you're down in your luck! This will perhaps help a bit”; and taking a ten-rupee note from his pocket-book he handed it to the girl, congratulating himself that now he would effect an escape.
But he reckoned without his host.
”Well, since you're too busy for even a chat with your old sweetheart this morning, she'll just need to come again another time,” said the girl, with a toss of her head, as she crumpled the note in her long brown fingers. ”I'll hand your little gift to mother. She'll send you a chit to thank you awfulee for minding on her.”
Miss Baltus seemed at last disposed to retreat, but a ”loose end” was being discovered by Mr. Rayner. Fearing it might develop into a serious tangle, he decided to take his courage in both hands.
”Look here, Leila, perhaps you don't know that a Mrs. Rayner now reigns here. I brought a wife from England with me.”
The announcement was evidently quite unexpected. The girl's amber skin grew a shade darker. Her l.u.s.trous eyes flashed fire, and violent emotion seemed to check her utterance for a moment; then she burst forth in fury:
”A Mrs. Rayner reigns--and her not me! So this is your little game? Why, it's the same joke they used to make to me when you came sweethearting--'Mrs. Rayner would reign!' You false snake! But I'll be even with you yet or my name's not Leila Baltus! You can go back to your lovelee English bride, but my word, you're not done with her you fooled,” she hissed as she made a step forward, holding out her thin fingers as if to return the rupee note, but on second thoughts she crushed it in her palm again. ”No, we shan't be ten rupees poorer anyhow because of the woman who has supplanted me! I'll just hand it on to my poor mother to pay for the prawn curries she wasted on an ungrateful toad!” she muttered, turning her back swiftly on the young man and hurrying away.
Alfred Rayner stood for a moment watching the slender swaying figure disappearing down the leafy road, then he turned homeward, muttering: ”Don't fancy I've scotched her. That horrid vixen will give me trouble yet! What a pity I gave her that money when I can ill spare it with all my heavy expenses. Depend upon it, she'll be upon me for another note before long! I've a good mind to make a clean breast of it to Hester.
She's no fool, she'll understand when I give her my side of the story that I'm simply being persecuted and blackmailed by a half-caste liar!”
Having decided on this course he walked briskly towards the house, taking the stable-entrance which happened to be nearest the part of the road where he he had been talking with his old acquaintance.
CHAPTER VIII.
Hester, having bandaged Rosie's tortured fingers, tried to return to her letters for the English mail, but she could not put her heart into them, for she felt dispirited and ill at ease. Evil seemed triumphing, trouble falling on the innocent and helpless, and the loving G.o.d, to Whom she had tried to point Rosie in their quiet hours, appeared to be taking no notice. Mrs. Harbottle's bitter taunts still rang in her ears, and these poor mutilated fingers which she had just been binding up--were they not sufficient evidence of the malignant fate which had descended on the child's innocent head?
As she was a prey to these disquieting thoughts she heard footsteps on the gravel-sweep below. Hoping that it was her husband and friend returning, she looked out, for she was eager to consult them as to what should be done to prove Rosie's innocence, of which she was completely convinced. Great was her surprise when she saw coming up the broad white steps, not her husband, but the ”elusive Mr. Morpeth,” as she had dubbed him to Mrs. Fellowes. She decided that he must have called to see Mark, but presently the butler came bringing her a card on his tray and saying: ”One old Dorai want to speak to Missus.”
So the visit was for her after all! She hurried downstairs to find her visitor in the verandah with a bright smile on his face. No, he would not come in, he just wanted to bring her some good news. He went on to explain that he had heard the lamentation of her little maid behind the hedge as he pa.s.sed the compound, and had also overheard Mrs. Harbottle stormily charging the child with the theft of her ring.
”I pa.s.sed on,” said Mr. Morpeth, ”feeling very sorry for the child whose voice seemed to ring true when she a.s.sured me, 'I never done take that ring.' I got into my carriage again and presently I saw two kites having a duel almost above my head, then something bright fell through the air.
I called my syce to stop, and keeping my eye on the spot where the kite had dropped its booty, I picked up this.”
Mr. Morpeth held out the recovered ring.
”Oh, Mr. Morpeth, what a trophy! How kind and clever you are!” exclaimed Hester with joy in her eyes. ”You can't think what a morning of anguish we've had over that ring. Rosie has been broken-hearted. What a joy this will be to her, and even more to her granny, my ayah, who has been feeling very bitter over the accusation which she knew to be false. She thought her G.o.ds must be angry with Rosie, and that it was all over with her. This is a beautiful clearing up! Now, since you won't come in, will it be too much to ask if you will step across with me to Mrs.
Harbottle's and unfold this delightful ending of our trouble to her? She was much too hard on our poor little Rosie. I, like you, believed the child was innocent, but never did I dream we should have such a swift and fairy-like proof of it! But allow me first to call the child, Mr.
Morpeth, you will like to see her joy!”
”Yes, I should like to see Rosie. It will be a pleasure to watch her face when she hears the ring has been found, though the thief is still a-flying. But please don't ask me to face Mrs. Harbottle,” said Mr.
Morpeth, shrugging his shoulders. ”I heard her voice--it wasn't musical!
I beg off! You lead Rosie to her and unfold the last chapter of the tale.”
”But, Mr. Morpeth,” began Hester, in a hesitating tone. ”Am I very uncharitable? What if Mrs. Harbottle thinks I've invented the story to s.h.i.+eld the child? I'm ashamed of my evil thought, but there--it's out!”
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