Part 8 (1/2)
”You are right! A woman's wit always scores! After all, I am the most important witness in the case--saving the kite who was wresting the prize from the thief, and I fear we can't summon him! Well, I suppose there's nothing for it but to face the formidable lady--but alone, please. I want to have a word with her butler. Did you see the child's hand?”
”I did. I never was so shocked in my life! I've just been doing what I could for it. Surely that man ought to be punished for his cruelty. I only wish my husband had been at home. He's out driving this morning.”
”I don't wonder you were horrified, Mrs. Rayner. No doubt it's your first experience of one of the iniquities of this land--systematised torture applied to wring confession from the victim. I grieve that you should have come into contact with it. It only goes on under the surface now, but like many iniquities, it dies hard. However, in this case I shall deal with the butler in a way he will feel--also with Mrs.
Harbottle. I shall be able to tell them I saw the child's hand with my own eyes. Perhaps that will frighten them sufficiently, you need not trouble yourself further,” Mr. Morpeth added, looking at the fair young wife in a protective fatherly manner. ”I don't think I'll have time to see Rosie just now, since I must go to Mrs. Harbottle's. You can tell her that the true thief has been found and made to renounce his booty. I envy you the mission, Mrs. Rayner. It is ever gladsome work to unfold the loving kindness of our G.o.d.
”'Tis the name that whoso teacheth Finds more sweet than honey's cheer.”
he murmured, with glistening eyes that seemed to Hester like a benediction as they rested on her.
Why had she not been able to tell the stricken ayah of that Love which seemed so near and dear to this man? Never had that Love felt so near to herself.
”I pray that this morning's work may prove a helpful memory to the little Rosie in days to come,” added Mr. Morpeth, holding out his hand with a sweet lingering smile.
”It will be a helpful memory to me too, Mr. Morpeth, I thank you with all my heart,” was Hester's parting word as she turned away.
Before the visitor had reached the last of the broad flight of the verandah steps, the master of the house came hurrying round the corner of the walk that led from the stables. His recent encounter with his former acquaintance had left him a prey to angry feelings.
”I declare, if this isn't another of those vile half-castes! We shall have the whole population of Vepery landing at our door!” he muttered, hurrying forward and glancing with an air of insolent chilliness at the stooping figure, from whose lined face the gracious smile had hardly faded.
”What, may I ask, is the reason of your call? I don't happen to have the----” ”the pleasure” he was about to say, but with a cruel smile changed it to: ”I have not the need of your acquaintance!”
The old man's face became grey and stern. For a moment he seemed about to speak, then, shaking his head sadly, he walked away in silence.
”Oh, Alfred, how could you--how could you speak so to him?” cried Hester, who had turned in the hall when she heard her husband's voice.
”That is Mr. Morpeth, Mrs. Fellowes' friend, and mine too now.”
”Yours is he? That he shan't be! I tell you what it is, Hester. I'll not have you encouraging these half-castes--male or female--that man Morpeth or anybody else--to come and crawl about my verandah on any pretext whatever! It's sheer forwardness! The fact is I can't afford to risk my position by mixing with them in any way. That's the long and the short of it!”
They had gone forward and were now standing on the threshold of the darkened library. Mr. Rayner could not see his wife's face, or perhaps he would not have gone so far. She covered it with her hands and stood mute for some moments, then with a shudder, she said:
”Oh, Alfred, there's something very wrong about this! You cannot be in earnest! I never thought----”
Suddenly Hester's voice broke and she turned away and mounted the staircase. Her husband stood looking at her retreating figure with a half repentant air, then he shrugged his shoulders and bit his lip, and seating himself at his writing-table began to fumble among his papers.
In the open houses of India there is no privacy. Mark Cheveril, busy over his letters in the adjoining room, had not failed, though much against his will, to overhear the whole conversation. He could gather that Mr. Morpeth had evidently called on some errand, and had been insultingly dismissed. It was a painful revelation, made more so by his recollection of Alfred Rayner's att.i.tude to the man who had been almost trampled under the hoofs of his horses. Mark had been vividly reminded of the incident when he observed Mr. Morpeth's evident agitation at the sight of Hester on Mrs. Fellowes' lawn. Possibly the old man thought Mr.
Rayner was also of the party, and shrank from meeting him. In the interest of his talk with the gracious host in his own library, the recollection of the painful scene in the mail-phaeton had been overlaid for Mark. Since then he had neither opportunity nor inclination to tell Mr. Rayner of his meeting with the despised East Indian, knowing well that he would not sympathise with the intense interest and admiration which had grown up already in his heart towards David Morpeth. And now the overheard words seemed more than likely to prove an impa.s.sable barrier to any mention of the subject, unless he was prepared to fight the bitter prejudice in the open.
Even more grievous to Mark had been the note of pain in Hester's voice when she remonstrated with her husband. Surely Rayner's att.i.tude to these people was the outcome of a shallow and vulgar mind! Were gentle Mrs. Bellairs' fears concerning this union too likely to be realised? He was at the moment engaged in writing to that anxious mother far away.
What could he say now to alleviate her fears, to send a.s.surance that all was well with her beloved daughter? Yet on many grounds it was not for him to be the sender of even a breath of evil tidings. No, he must probe the matter further, he decided.
Closing his portfolio he began to pace up and down the rattan-matting of the long room. How he desired to comfort the girl who had been such a good gay comrade in past days! These last words of hers seemed wrung as from a bleeding wound. Yet it was denied him to whisper one soothing word to her who was probably weeping in one of those white rooms up-stairs. The very thought of it roused the young man's chivalrous soul. His indignation waxed hot at the revelation of the shallowness and egotism which had occasioned the outburst of temper on Rayner's part.
What mattered all his show of hospitality to himself while such feelings lurked beneath it? Might it not have been safer for the guarding of that trusty friends.h.i.+p which he desired should subsist between Hester and himself if he had not been Alfred Rayner's guest;--if he had not come into such close contact with the man? Yet it pained him to remember that he should have to leave Clive's Road with this impression on his mind.
Looking at his watch he saw that it was time to get ready for the late breakfast. How could he meet his sweet hostess whom he had only seen for a few moments at early tea that morning? She probably thought that he had gone out with her husband, as had been first arranged. If she had not done so, she would have called him to meet Mr. Morpeth, who possibly may have come to return his call. Hester, he knew, had meant to devote her morning to her home-letters. How cruelly they had been interfered with! Perhaps she would not appear at breakfast, possibly he might not see her again before he left for Puranapore!
But Mark was mistaken. He had not probed the stern moralities of such secret care and trouble. How often in life has a smiling face to cover a broken heart? When he entered the breakfast-room, there sat the young hostess, sweet and gracious, entertaining two of her husband's merchant clients from Kurrachi. Rayner was at the head of the table smiling affably, vastly gratified at the impression his wife was evidently making upon his important guests. But Mark could not fail to notice that he cast an anxious glance towards her, as if pondering whether his words were already forgotten and forgiven; and as Mark encountered Hester's gaze he felt sure they were not, at all events, forgotten. Her eyes were weary, there was an increased pallor on her cheeks, and a certain pitiful curve of her lips when her face was in repose.