Part 54 (1/2)

CHAPTER XXIII

A MEMORABLE OCCASION

'A Memorable occasion!'

The phrase seemed, somehow, to be inevitable on the further side of the city, where, as Ram Nath had foretold, all of Nushapore that was worth considering was gathered together for the ceremony of laying the foundation-stone of the Anglo-Vernacular College. Ram Nath may have started the a.s.sertion, but every one else followed suit. Sir George in his presidential address, the treasurer in his financial statement, the distinguished native official who--in proposing the vote of thanks to Lady Arbuthnot for her able a.s.sistance--managed to drag in the Dufferin fund and the benefits of female education by the way! So, one by one, the delegates of the various sects and a.s.sociations who were, blissfully, to forget their differences over----over this memorable occasion!

Some added a 'most' to it; others went so far as to say it marked an era; while a peculiarly eloquent speaker went one better by introducing the 'Annals of Empire.'

But the point on which they were all agreed was--that it _was_ 'a memorable occasion.'

And there was curiously little unreality about the a.s.sertion, for everybody went about with a noticeable satisfaction that was due to a feeling of duty done. It was all infinitely proper; also pleasing, for when the initial ceremony was over and a pause came for tea between it and the giving of diplomas, it was quite a pretty sight to see the mixed mult.i.tude walking about admiring and criticising the building, that some time or another--for funds at the moment were a trifle low--would be built. And this had been made possible by the ingenious and distinctly novel device of laying out the site as a lawn, on which narrow beds of flowers followed the lines of the foundations to come, while in the centre, under what was to be the central dome, stood a model (large enough to allow the delighted native visitors to creep through it if they chose), which had been made of bamboo, brown paper, and mud plaster by a distinguished toy artist in the city, who had had long practice in the making of _tazzias_[18] for the _Mohurrum_ processions.

He stood beside his latest creation now, a perfect incarnation of smile in spotless white robes, with a muslin skullcap on his well-oiled hair, ready to receive congratulations on his work. They were many, though the English people kept theirs chiefly for the garden.

'I wish I could make my pansies grow as evenly,' remarked one lady who was devoted to hers, as she looked enviously round the reading-room to be, that was outlined by a dense border of purple and yellow.

'Nothing easier!' replied the Secretary-to-Government, who was showing her round. 'Cut them to pattern with a foot-rule--they are only stuck in for the day!' He pulled up one as he spoke, showed it to her rootless, then stuck it in again with a laugh. 'It is a regular native dodge. They are A1 at making dream-palaces, you know. Curious, isn't it? that the mushroom should grow so well in India, the most conservative of countries; but cheap labour and cheap words are absolutely demoralising.'

'Stuck in! So they are,' echoed the gardening lady. 'Just a regular child's garden; but it looks well, doesn't it! Poor things!' she added, stooping to touch a pansy with the caressing touch of the flower-lover; 'but if they were only left alone for a time, you know, they would soon strike root.'

'Perhaps!' admitted the Secretary-to-Government dubiously, as they drifted off to the tea-table where Mrs. Chris Davenant--who had presented her bouquet with charming grace--was presiding, a.s.sisted by Chris in his frock-coat with a flower in his b.u.t.tonhole.

He was, in the eyes of many around him, at the pinnacle of prosperity, for the Lieutenant-Governor, as he drank his tea, was talking to him (as Vice-President); yet he did not look happy, perhaps because he could catch a glimpse outside the tent of Swami Viseshwar Nath, standing apart from the ruck amid the little knot of high-caste Hindoos who had brought him there with blandis.h.i.+ngs and bribes, as ocular demonstration of the widespread sympathy and support the college was receiving from all cla.s.ses of the community, and who had promised to be responsible for his bodily and spiritual immunity from defilement.

By and by, Chris knew, he would have to reckon with that figure, whose brown, bare shaven head, and brown, bare legs, showed beyond a short salmon-pink s.h.i.+rt hung with a rope of big brown beads matching the tint of the skin. Such an inconceivable, incredible figure, seen behind that of Mrs. Carruthers in her last Paris frock!

Yes! by and by Chris must make his choice. If it had only been for himself, that choice, it would have been easy; but it was for Naraini also----

_Naraini! Naraini! Naraini!_

The thought of her haunted him. Her very aloofness from such a scene as this, the impossibility of imagining her in any part of it, held him captive. No! there was no place here for such as she; not even in the tent where a few of the more emanc.i.p.ated wives, and sisters, and mothers of Shark Lane were, literally, on show to the elect; and whither Lady Arbuthnot was at that very moment being conducted by an elate but apologetic husband, who was saying with cheerful pomp--

'You will find them very stupid, since they have as yet enjoyed small benefit from liberal education; but time will show.'

Time will show! Undoubtedly; it was showing results already in the foundations of flowers through which the speaker was pa.s.sing. Results that were oddly despotic, beyond the expectation or control of those who had planted that child's garden. The poppies, for instance, native to the soil as they were, had given up the pretence of root; the exotic pansies, on the other hand, winked boldly at the westering sun as at an enemy vanquished.

It was fate, or something beyond fate, even here.

'It really,' remarked Sir George almost mechanically, 'is a memorable occasion.'

'Very, indeed!' a.s.sented poor Chris, realising that it was one, at any rate, that _he_ was not likely to forget.

'Excuse me!' put in the Commissioner, coming up hurriedly, 'but if I may, sir, I should like to have a word with you!'

Sir George put down his cup, Chris moved off, and so did the two officials, to converse earnestly as they circled round that toy model of the College to come.

'I agree that it is unfortunate,' admitted Sir George, pausing at last, a trifle impatiently, 'but I refuse to believe there is any immediate likelihood of disturbance. It is inconceivable with _this_ going on.

Every one looks content, except perhaps the pensioners. Jehan Aziz, I notice, is absent, but that is only decent--and one cannot wonder at their annoyance.' Here his glance fell resentfully on Mr.

Lucanaster, who--the day being Sunday when no other entertainment was available--had honoured the 'memorable occasion' with his presence.