Part 14 (1/2)
”No, Mr. Wilson. I have done my first and last bit of gambling. I don't think it is nice, ladies betting, after all, and if there were a hospital here I should order you to send the money the gloves will cost you to it as conscience money, and then perhaps you might follow my example with your winnings.”
”My conscience is not moved in any way,” he laughed; ”when it is I will look out for a deserving charity. Well, if you won't bet I must see if I can make a small investment somewhere else.”
”I shall see you at the ball, of course?” Isobel said, turning to Mr.
Bathurst, as Wilson left the carriage.
”No, I think not. b.a.l.l.s are altogether out of my line, and as there is always a superabundance of men at such affairs here, there is no sense of duty about it.”
”What is your line, Mr. Bathurst?”
”I am afraid I have none, Miss Hannay. The fact is, there is really more work to be done than one can get through. When you get to know the natives well you cannot help liking them and longing to do them some good if they would but let you, but it is so difficult to get them to take up new ideas. Their religion, with all its customs and ceremonies, seems designed expressly to bar out all improvements. Except in the case of abolis.h.i.+ng Suttee, we have scarcely weaned them from one of their observances; and even now, in spite of our efforts, widows occasionally immolate themselves, and that with the general approval.
”I wish I had an army of ten thousand English ladies all speaking the language well to go about among the women and make friends with them; there would be more good done in that way than by all the officials in India. They might not be able to emanc.i.p.ate themselves from all their restrictions, but they might influence their children, and in time pave the way for a moral revolution. But it is ridiculous,” he said, breaking off suddenly, ”my talking like this here, but you see it is what you call my line, my hobby, if you like; but when one sees this hard working, patient, gentle people making their lot so much harder than it need be by their customs and observances one longs to force them even against their own will to burst their bonds.”
Dr. Wade came up at this moment and caught the last word or two.
”You are incorrigible, Bathurst. Miss Hannay, I warn you that this man is a monomaniac. I drag him away from his work, and here he is discoursing with you on reform just as a race is going to start. You may imagine, my dear, what a thorn he is in the side of the bigwigs.
You have heard of Talleyrand's advice to a young official, 'Above all things, no zeal.' Go away, Bathurst; Miss Hannay wants to see the race, and even if she doesn't she is powerless to a.s.sist you in your crusade.”
Bathurst laughed and drew off.
”That is too bad, Doctor. I was very interested. I like to talk to people who can think of something besides races and b.a.l.l.s and the gossip of the station.”
”Yes, in reason, in reason, my dear; but there is a medium in all things. I have no doubt Bathurst will be quite happy some time or other to give you his full views on child marriages, and the remarriages of widows, and female education, and the land settlement, and a score of other questions, but for this a few weeks of perfect leisure will be required. Seriously, you know that I think Bathurst one of the finest young fellows in the service, but his very earnestness injures both his prospects and his utility. The officials have a horror of enthusiasm; they like the cut and dried subordinate who does his duty conscientiously, and does not trouble his head about anything but carrying out the regulations laid down for him.
”Theoretically I agree with most of Bathurst's views, practically I see that a score of officials like him would excite a revolution throughout a whole province. In India, of all places in the world, the maxim festina lente--go slow--is applicable. You have the prejudices of a couple of thousand years against change. The people of all things are jealous of the slightest appearance of interference with their customs.
The change will no doubt come in time, but it must come gradually, and must be the work of the natives themselves and not of us. To try to hasten that time would be but to defer it. Now, child, there is the bell; now just attend to the business in hand.”
”Very well, Doctor, I will obey your orders, but it is only fair to say that Mr. Bathurst's remarks are only in answer to something I said,” and Isobel turned to watch the race, but with an interest less ardent than she had before felt.
Isobel's character was an essentially earnest one, and her life up to the day of her departure to India had been one of few pleasures. She had enjoyed the change and had entered heartily into it, and she was as yet by no means tired of it, but she had upon her arrival at Cawnpore been a little disappointed that there was no definite work for her to perform, and had already begun to feel that a time would come when she would want something more than gossip and amus.e.m.e.nts and the light talk of the officers of her acquaintance to fill her life.
She had as yet no distinct interest of her own, and Bathurst's earnestness had struck a cord in her own nature and seemed to open a wide area for thought. She put it aside now and chatted gayly with the Hunters and those who came up to the carriage, but it came back to her as she sat in her room before going to bed.
Up till now she had not heard a remark since she had been in Cawnpore that might not have been spoken had the cantonments there been the whole of India, except that persons at other stations were mentioned. The vast, seething native population were no more alluded to than if they were a world apart. Bathurst's words had for the first time brought home to her the reality of their existence, and that around this little group of English men and women lay a vast population, with their joys and sorrows and sufferings.
At breakfast she surprised Mrs. Hunter by asking a variety of questions as to native customs. ”I suppose you have often been in the Zenanas, Mrs. Hunter?”
”Not often, my dear. I have been in some of them, and very depressing it is to see how childish and ignorant the women are.”
”Can nothing be done for them, Mrs. Hunter?”
”Very little. In time I suppose there will be schools for girls, but you see they marry so young that it is difficult to get at them.”
”How young do they marry?”
”They are betrothed, although it has all the force of a marriage, as infants, and a girl can be a widow at two or three years old; and so, poor little thing, she remains to the end of her life in a position little better than that of a servant in her husband's family. Really they are married at ten or eleven.”
Isobel looked amazed at this her first insight into native life. Mrs.
Hunter smiled.