Part 10 (1/2)
”Yes, I saw from your manner to him that you had not heard. Well, the poor young man is actually a half-caste! Does not even deny it, I'm told--speaks of his shame quite openly.”
”H'm, has he confided in you, madam?”
”Now you know, Mr. Worsley, that is not possible, seeing I saw him for the first time only five minutes ago. But, believe me, I have the information first hand----”
”Would you believe it, madam, so have I? Would you be surprised to learn that I heard it from the young man himself? I suppose I must accept that as 'first hand'; and I must further tell you he has rather scored in my eyes in making this avowal!”
”What! Do you mean to say you are to be satisfied with a half-caste?”
cried Mrs. Goldring, retreating a step, her face purple with indignation. ”You are surely not going to expose us to such a situation. I reckoned, Collector, you had only to be told the fact to see it to be your duty as head of this station to try at least and arrange a transference as soon as possible,” she gasped, hoping that even if no practicable step could be taken she could at least set the Collector against the young man.
”You reckoned without your host, I fear, madam. You will require to rearrange your views as to the acceptance of this new servant of the Government for Puranapore--that's all. I also am only a servant.”
”Pooh, as if you hadn't got young Printer spirited away quickly enough because he didn't hit it off with you----”
”That remark of yours, madam, implies a liberty to which I am unused,”
said the Collector, drawing himself up with a haughty air. After a moment's silence he lifted his hat, and was about to move away when Mrs.
Samptor came hurrying up.
”Oh, Mr. Worsley, I've found you at last! Why ever did you take him to the most forsaken part of the garden, Mrs. Goldring?--especially seeing he comes so seldom; I'm always anxious to impress the Collector favourably----”
”Which you succeed in doing,” said Mr. Worsley, with a courtly bow, relieved that his _tete-a-tete_ was having such a definite interruption, for he was doubtful if he had attained his end in getting rid of the irate lady.
”I've just come to ask you if you will take dinner with Samptor and me to-night, and bring that charming Mr. Cheveril with you. The Judge has just been saying what an acquisition he will be to our little circle, and I'm sure we're all of the same mind--now we've seen him,” wound up the audacious little lady, stealing a glance at Mrs. Goldring's discomfited countenance.
The Collector was inwardly much gratified that Mrs. Samptor should have bestowed on his new a.s.sistant such a timely and hearty certificate in the hearing of his detractor, but not even his sense of gratification could induce him to accept her proposal of dining out. He was too wedded to his own surroundings either in camp or bungalow to be persuaded to exchange them of an evening, but he softened his refusal by saying: ”Mr.
Cheveril will no doubt be delighted to be your guest one evening before long, meanwhile, till his luggage arrives, he has consented to be mine.”
”Oh, well, I shall wait till he takes possession of his own solitary bungalow, then I shall secure him! Oh dear, if that isn't a big goat trespa.s.sing among my precious crotons,” and, tucking up her skirts, the little lady darted after the intruder.
The Collector stood watching her with a comical smile on his face, while Mrs. Goldring gazed with sullen contempt on what she afterwards described as ”Mrs. Samptor's vulgar antics.”
Not content with protecting the crotons, the agile lady was bent on chasing the trespa.s.ser from the compound, but the Indian black goat was more than a match for her. Scrambling up a tree, he clung there, looking down triumphantly; but the owner of the trampled crotons was not to be outdone. Up she scrambled after him, though it was only on receiving some stinging cuffs that the goat acknowledged himself beaten and made off.
”Wonderful person that! When would you or I have energy to perform such a feat, Mrs. Goldring?” said the Collector, shaking with laughter as he went forward to proffer a.s.sistance. Mrs. Samptor, however, disclaimed his help and alighted airily on the ground, making him an elegant curtsey with outspread skirts.
”Well done, Mrs. Samptor! My only regret is that your husband did not witness the acrobatic performance. Mrs. Goldring and I were too small an audience.”
The Judge's wife scorned the imputation of being one of the spectators of such a scene. In fact, she afterwards explained, she tried to shut her eyes during its progress. She moved off in majestic solitude, filled with even more resentment against the little woman than she felt against the Collector for his scathing rebuke.
Mrs. Samptor, meanwhile, was unconscious of treachery. Of the chameleon type, she had no scruples in changing her point of view when brought face to face with the frank young civilian; moreover, his gracious acceptance of her hospitality had quite won her heart.
”Let Mrs. Pate say what she likes, that boy is not an East Indian, Harry!” she whispered to her husband. ”Anyhow, I'll not believe it! I'm off to warn Mrs. Goldring not to say a word about it to the Collector.
She'll catch it if she does, if I'm not mistaken. I can see from the look of his eyelids that he has taken a fancy to the young man already”; and off she had bounded to the croton walk, to perceive, however, that she had come too late. ”The fat was in the fire,” she narrated to her husband that evening as they sat in the verandah after dinner. ”I couldn't help the woman mismanaging him, could I now, Harry? If she'd had eyes in her head she could have seen the Collector was as pleased with the boy as a child with its latest toy. It really wasn't my fault if she brought down his wrath upon herself, was it now?”
The jailer was too deep in his after dinner nap to make any response, but Mrs. Samptor was used to forego responses, and frequently counted them as spoken when the only reply was a snore.
CHAPTER XI.
Mrs. Samptor divined rightly. The Collector's first impressions of his new a.s.sistant were deeply favourable, and they arose partly from the very point which Mrs. Goldring deemed would prove fatal--the disclosure of his alleged social disabilities. Mark Cheveril had not been in Madras for more than three days without hearing remarks concerning his future chief which would have caused some natures to have a.s.sumed from the outset a defensive att.i.tude. But no sooner had he entered the Collector's bungalow than he felt drawn to the lonely man, careless in dress and manner, hardly rising to greet his visitor from the long armed chair where he lounged, smoking a cheroot, surrounded by two faithful dogs. In a few moments Mark was occupying a similar chair by his side, being introduced to his dogs and his cheroots, and feeling completely at home.