Chapter XIII: An Angry Elephant

RUTH opened the study door.

Her father was seated by his writing-table with his head on his hands. When he looked up there was a haggard expression on his face.

She came close and put her arms round his neck. How could she comfort him, when her own heart felt so heavy?

But another thought came, a thought of forgiveness. She bent and kissed his forehead.

"Father," she said, in a tremulous voice, "we must make the best of it, must we not? If you and I can face it together, it will not seem so bad!"

"I'll try, my dear," he responded. And then suddenly, he turned his head and kissed her warmly—as he had not kissed her since the sorrowful day that she had said he had spoilt her life.

Ruth's heart beat. She managed to whisper, "You have forgiven me then? I may be sure that no cloud is between us now?"

There was a moment's pause, and then he kissed her again with the greatest tenderness.

"My dear, you have something to forgive too; but we will begin again."

Ruth swallowed her tears, and tried to recover her voice so as not to grieve him.

"I came down to ask you about the bedroom for Norman. Is it not dreadful about him?"

Her father rose and led the way back to the drawing-room, and sat down in his usual chair with a sigh of relief. Ruth remembered that he had not once been in there since that day.

"Well!" he said. "We will make the best of it, as you said—after all, many people would say that a pretty little girl and a bright boy were not such a terrible task, and as to the poor little fellow, if only he gets good, and is happy—"

He broke off, and looked meditatively at the fern-filled fireplace.

"Yes—oh, yes!" said Ruth eagerly, "I mean to make up my mind to it happily. I feel sure I shall, if you are not—worried."

He smiled a little sadly.

"Well, about this room? We shall have to give them up the spare room, Ruth!"

"We seldom use it—"

"No; at any rate, we can say he and the ayah shall have that for the present. How would that be? I would give something if that ayah had not come. I do not trust her face."

"I cannot say I like her."

"Well—we shall see. The child could not have travelled without her, that is one thing."

So Ruth sped upstairs, for she felt anxious that the little invalid should be able to go to bed as soon as possible.

She went straight to where she heard Heston's voice.

"Heston," she said, "we are going to put Norman into the spare room for the present, and Mala can have her bed brought into the corner; there is plenty of room. Come, Norman dear, I am sure you are tired with your journey. Shall I show you where it is? The room is next to Judith's!"

She bent over him and kissed his forehead, then offering her hand, she led him gently along the landing to the back of the house, where the view over to the Welsh hills was now fading into purple mist.

Norman looked round with a pleased expression, and Judith glanced gratefully at Ruth.

"He likes it," she nodded. "Thank you."

"Mala can put him quietly to bed, and when he is comfortable we will come in and have a little look at him," said Ruth, kindly. "Meanwhile, the servants shall bring down Mala's bedstead, and have it ready to wheel in."

"Can I help?" asked Heston. "You see, Cousin Ruth, I've been used to brisk Germany, and not lazy India! I can do all sorts of things in a handy way."

"I am so glad!" exclaimed Ruth. "That will suit my father. Thank you, then, if you would direct the maids how to bring it down the back stairs. And please, Heston, call me Ruth! I'm only a year older than you, and have only just got out of a school-girl."

"All the better," said Heston, bluntly. "I was almost afraid, by your looks, you were a young lady!"

Ruth laughed merrily. She felt so lighthearted at her father's having cheered up, that the whole world wore a different aspect.

At length all was done, the little pale face on the white pillow was smiled upon, and Ruth had whispered to the dumb child that she should soon learn how to understand his finger-talking, and with another good-night to Judith, who also wished to go to bed, Ruth and Heston went down to find Dr. Brown.

He had, however, been called out, so they sat down in the drawing-room and began to get acquainted.

Heston had plenty to tell her of his school in Germany, and the reasons why his father had decided against his coming to England; and it was some time before Ruth could lead him back to what her mind was so full of—the cause of the sad affliction that had come to little Norman.

"You see, it was like this," explained Heston, who, having lately told his uncle, felt as if it were rather an old tale—"sometimes my father's official business gave him occasion to go into the jungle; he often used elephants on these journeys. My mother before her death, four years ago, accompanied him when she could, and on the particular journey which we have such cause to remember, she took Norman with her.

"He was an extremely sensitive child, and, we remembered afterwards, had always been timid of the elephant rides. One day, my father had a call to make at one of the outlying residences, and my mother decided not to alight, so the elephants waited with their drivers beneath the shade of some trees.

"The driver of mother's elephant was very partial to one of the other drivers, who was not a favourite with anyone.

"Mother noticed that this man kept on teasing her elephant, and that the animal was growing very restless.

"They remember that Norman's eyes were wide open with fear lest the elephant should get really angry, when suddenly he turned on the man and caught him up with his trunk, and made off with him towards the river!

"Our driver's frantic efforts to stop him were unavailing, for the elephant took no notice of him, nor of the full howdah on his back. He made straight for the river and our mother thought they would all be drowned.

"When he reached the edge of the water, he splashed down into it up to his knees, and proceeded to plunge the man in three times over! Then, satisfied that justice had been awarded, he turned and deposited the man on the bank, himself quietly walking back to the shade of the trees and to the other elephants.

"When Mala and mother recovered from their terror, our little Norman was found to have fainted, and from that time to this he has never spoken a word."

"Oh, how sad! Does my father think that anything can be done for him?" exclaimed Ruth.

"He is going to watch him carefully before he gives any opinion. But I think—I hope I was not mistaken in thinking—that he does not consider it quite hopeless."

"Poor little boy!" said Ruth, pitifully.

There was a pause, and at length Heston said, with frank earnestness—

"Cousin Ruth! I'm afraid we have been an awful bother coming like this! We do appreciate Uncle's kindness and yours, though our first beginning does not look much like it. I hope you'll understand that we meant to be nice."

He held out his hand, and Ruth shook it with a grateful look in her clear eyes.