Chapter XXV

"How have you been getting on lately?" asked Eola as she sank into a cane lounge in the verandah.

Alderbury stopped in his perambulation, gathered up a number of letters lying on the table where the tea was usually spread and made them into a neat packet. None of them required an immediate answer; they could all wait until he reached home. He intended to make the most of his one day's holiday. He had the whole morning before him; Wenaston was engaged till lunch, and Eola presumably had nothing to do but entertain her guest. It was a pleasant prospect, and he was conscious of a sense of luxury that did not often enter his life. He revelled in the unwonted leisure of the hour and took his time to reply. He seated himself in a chair by her side, and half turned so that he might have a full view of her face against the green creeper-covered trellis that shut in the end of the verandah.

"I have a fair share of trouble balanced by some satisfaction."

"Converts been doing anything very naughty lately?"

He laughed in kindly fashion. In his large sympathetic soul he held his people dear, from the blackest little ball of a baby brought to him for baptism to the white-haired old woman; who persisted in calling him father though she was twice his age.

"It is rather like having a very large nursery or school of children," he said. "Some of them are so good and others----"

"Are up to tricks," Eola concluded for him.

"Only between us confidentially."

They both laughed in a way that showed a mutual understanding and not a little sympathy on the part of the woman, not so much for his work as for himself personally.

"Do tell me their latest," she said softly.

"It is not for publication. On your honour you won't give me and my people away to a missionary magazine?"

"I promise."

"Let me whisper my troubles in your ear, then. I have had a bother over a bell tower. Four months ago I sent five hundred rupees that I had collected for the purpose to the native pastor in charge of the little church at Ramapet; and I solemnly enjoined on him by letter the necessity of beginning the building of the tower at once. I have been to see it."

"You have found that they have put up a glorified steeple, I suppose, costing twice as much as the sum you sent."

"Wrong, dear lady, entirely wrong! The bell tower surrounds the property on which the church stands in the form of a wall; and in the corner of the compound is a new well."

"What has become of the bell?"

"It is there safe enough; oh, yes, and it rings all right. The church council composed of the most important of the native parishioners met me and pointed out how wise they had been, as wise as serpents to use their own expression. The church compound is already under cultivation and the water will not only produce a crop, I should say rather, two crops in the year, but will also be a source of income as it is purchased by the villagers at so much a bucket. They are all delighted with themselves for their cleverness. The bell-tower, they say, will come all in good time. Meanwhile they have erected a little shelter of mats and bamboos in a peepul tree and have hung the bell there."

"What did you say?"

"I had to disapprove and point out that it was a breach of faith and a misappropriation of funds."

"Was the wall needed?"

"Badly! Nothing could be done with the land to make it productive until we had an effective barrier to keep out the buffaloes and goats."

"Then really it is a most excellent move."

"Not at all! Don't you see that there are principles involved?"

"They should have asked your consent, you mean, to the temporary deflection of the money?"

"I should never have given it! They knew it and took good care not to let me into the secret. What am I to do, pray? Where is my bell-tower to come from? It will take two or three years before they can refund the money. Some of it was given by an enthusiastic lover of bells, who was charmed with the idea of assisting to build the tower. Bells, he declared, were missionaries themselves and exercised a Christianising influence. What am I to say to him? He won't see any Christianising influence in the well and the wall."

He sat up in his long armed chair and gazed at Eola with comic concern. It made her laugh.

"My sympathies are all with the builders of the wall. I know how I felt towards the buffaloes and goats before the wall round this compound was completed. After all the bell does very well for the present in the peepul tree."

"Your morals are hopelessly inferior--I won't say bad--and you would make a very weak mission agent," he said, shaking his head over her shortcomings.

"Should I? Then I mustn't marry a missionary. Think how awful it would be if while he was away preaching to the heathen, I remained at home encouraging his converts to misappropriate the mission funds."

"He would have to take you with him; it wouldn't be safe to leave you behind."

They both laughed; then he became serious again.

"But I say, really, joking apart; you know they have put me into no end of a difficulty by their cleverness, and I am at my wits' end to think how I am to rectify it."

"I know!" cried Eola, with a sudden inspiration. "Haven't you any other funds in hand from which you could borrow and get the tower built at once?"

He jumped to his feet as was his way when excited and strode up and down the verandah.

"You are every bit as bad as my people! That's the very thing they have done and which I am deprecating; and you suggest that I should follow their example. I can see that I have a duty to perform. I must take you in hand and convert you."

He stopped in front of her and let his eyes rest upon her abundant hair.

"Try," she said, looking up at him with shining eyes in which amusement mingled with something else. "Do try; I should like to see what your method would be."

"Would you?" he replied. "You might not like it."

"Is it the same as you apply to the heathen?"

"Not exactly."

Her eyes lowered before his, and she was seized with a sudden anxiety to direct the conversation into a fresh channel.

"Sit down, Mr. Alderbury, and tell me more about your converts," she said hastily.

"Very well, I will defer the conversion till a more suitable time and talk--of marriage."

Again she was startled. She glanced at him as he dropped into the seat he had vacated so abruptly. His self-possession was in no way disturbed.

"Marriage!" she repeated as the colour mounted.

He revelled in her sweet confusion; but had mercy.

"Yes; the marriage of one of my converts. A young man in the agricultural settlement wants to marry the daughter of a distant relative. The girl is still a heathen. Of course I had to say no, and counsel patience. We don't allow mixed marriages. I left him rather sad, as he knows the girl and is attached to her. Being pariahs they have been allowed to see something of each other."

"Oh, poor fellow! Is she fond of him?"

"Yes; I think so; as far as a modest Hindu maid may permit herself to be."

"Then they ought to be married; and I think it is very horrid of you to forbid the wedding."

"The girl must become a Christian first; then the wedding bells shall be rung and the feast prepared; but not till then."

"But supposing she won't become a Christian, what then?"

"The marriage can't take place."

"Poor lovers! What a shame! You are hard on them! Why shouldn't the girl marry first and be converted afterwards?"

"That would never do. I always begin with conversion;" he looked at her and paused with half a smile; then he added: "Marriage must follow conversion."

"Oh, must it!" she replied with a challenge in her voice. "You take a good deal for granted."

"A common fault with men of my profession, I fear," he replied with a decision that had its attraction.

"Are you never disappointed?"

There was a slight pause. His reply was spoken in a different tone.

"In the matter of bell towers, yes."

Alderbury sat down again, and Eola with half averted face looked out into the sunlit compound where the brilliant colours of the geraniums and bignonia creeper contrasted strongly with the pure snow white of the eucharis lilies; where butterflies that rivalled the flowers in tint fluttered like wind-driven petals across her vision, and the sweet scent of the _La France_ roses came in on the warm morning air.

"Now tell me about Ananda," said Alderbury recalling her thoughts.

"I know very little about him. My information has come from Mrs. Hulver who picks up gossip in the bazaar. You had better hear the story from her first hand. I will send for her."

A message was taken by the butler who met the housekeeper as she returned from her walk in the compound. She went into her room to remove the mushroom hat and dispose of her umbrella; and she took the opportunity of telling young William that she had made arrangements for him to leave at daybreak the following morning. She entered the front verandah, keen inquiry in her eye as to the reason of her call.

"Were you wishing to have a few words with my son, sir? If so, I should be pleased if you could come in half an hour. He is just going to have his bath. A dressing-down from your point of view will be very good for him. As William--that was my third--used to say: 'Don't confine yourself to big guns in dealing with an enemy. Bullets speak quite as plainly as cannon balls though they are neither so big nor so noisy.'"

"I don't think your son wants any lecturing from me. No doubt he is fully repentant after all that has happened. Dr. Wenaston told me the story of his fight, and I am sure young William will keep away from the canteen in future," said Alderbury kindly.

"He will try, sir; I know that; but canteens draw very strongly at times. There's the smell to contend with as well as the open door. As William--that was my third--used to say: 'An open door will tempt a saint.'"

"I want you to tell me all you know and have heard about Ananda. Sit down, Mrs. Hulver," he said, giving her a chair. "I don't see why you should stand. Let us have a comfortable chat whilst we are about it."

He noted the cloud of anxiety that seemed to overshadow her usually placid face and put it down to trouble over her son. Her words confirmed his suspicion.

"To tell you the truth, sir, I have had no time to consider Mr. Ananda. I have been so worried by young William's conduct."

"You mustn't think too much about it. You can't expect everybody to be a saint."

"I don't, sir, and least of all young William from the way he has begun----"

"What did you hear of Ananda in the bazaar?" asked Alderbury interrupting her.

"As far as I can recollect the family ill-treated him, knocked him about with a stick and he ran away. They didn't like his turning Christian. As William--that was my third--used to say: 'What women haven't got to answer for, you may safely put down to religion.'"

"It was supposed that he was in hiding somewhere on the college premises. It seems the gardener heard of the arrival of your son and thought it was Ananda."

"The gardener?" said Mrs. Hulver puckering her brow. "So we may thank him for that budmash's visit. I shall have to remember that."

She thought of the roses and felt that the man had got even with her after all; but she kept her thoughts to herself.

"In coming here he was taking a great liberty, I admit; but it was as well that he should satisfy himself that Ananda was not on the premises."

"I should never have allowed him to go through my rooms if the master hadn't given him permission. As it was I had to submit; but I didn't like it with young William lying there and the fever still on him. As William--that was my first--used to say: 'Orders is orders when spoken by a superior.'"

"Have you heard any spot mentioned as likely to be a hiding-place?"

"There have been all sort of rumours, sir. They said at first that he had gone to you; but a messenger was sent to your house to inquire; and as nothing had been seen of him there they changed their minds. I don't wonder at his running away if they really did illtreat him. As William--that was my second--used to say: 'Distance is the best remedy against the spite of evil men.' You never saw such an evil-looking beast as that uncle was who came poking his nose into everything here. If young William had been himself and not so ashamed of his black eye he would have upped and at him and soon had him out. I think the man himself was afraid that something of the sort might happen. As William--that was my first--used to say when his relations came to stay without an invitation: 'Uninvited guests sit on thorns.'"

"When they discovered that Ananda was not at my house what was the next suspicion of the family?"

"That he had drowned himself in the well."

"What gave rise to that notion?"

"They found his cap in the well."

"But not his body?"

"No, sir; all the same his people believe that he is drowned and they have widowed his wife I am told. I can't answer for the truth of what I hear in the bazaar. As William--that was my first--used to say: 'An Indian bazaar is a nest in which many rotten eggs are laid.'"

"You were very kind to Mr. Ananda, Mrs. Hulver," remarked Eola.

"My kindness was of the fair weather sort. I gave him food and plenty of good advice, before master put it in orders that no help of any sort was to be found in this house. Mr. Ananda ate heartily and listened politely; but he didn't take my advice soon enough. As William--that was my second--used to say: 'The man who stops in the valley will never get over the hill.' I keep telling young William these sort of things. I hope some of them, specially about drink and fighting, will stay by him. As William, his father used to say: 'The way to promotion doesn't lie through the canteen door.'"

"If you should by chance find means of communicating with Ananda----"

"And him down the well, sir! Why, it's more than a week----"

"Do you believe that he drowned himself, Mrs. Hulver?" asked Alderbury, his eyes fixed upon her round smooth face that held very little expression but general good-nature towards the whole world.

"Well, sir! There's his widow! A widow is usually the sure sign of a man's death; though I have heard of the widow's weeds being put on too soon. That was the case of a woman in our regiment whose husband was seconded for service in Africa. He was reported killed; and just as she was getting over her trouble and was cheering up a bit, owing to one of the unmarried sergeants paying her a little attention, he came back. She had to go into colours again before the black was half wore out, an expense all for nothing that she could ill afford, poor thing! But as William--that was my second--used to say: 'There's no plumbing the depths of a man's folly when he's a fool.' He should have written and told her that he wasn't dead; but that meant sending her money. Perhaps Mr. Ananda may come back one day like Sergeant Thompson."

"His uncle stopped me on my way here to ask if I knew anything of him. I could give him no information, and I take it that you can't help any more than I can."

"That's so right enough, and if you see the budmash again you may tell him that his precious nephew's whereabouts has nothing to do with me."

"Possibly; but as Mr. Ananda belongs to our faith, I certainly think that his welfare has a great deal to do with me," said Alderbury with a touch of severity.

"Of course, sir; it's only right; it's your profession to look after the converts. My business is housekeeping; and if the Christmas turkey was missing from the larder I should be in even more of a taking than you are over Mr. Ananda. As William--that was my first--used to say: 'Mind your own business and leave others to mind theirs.' You are leaving us to-morrow, sir, I understand. I've seen your men; they want to start off to-night with the cart if you have no objection. The portmanteau you are using will go on the motor. This will give them time to get to the mission-station before you arrive. I told your servant that I thought he could be spared."

"By all means let them go if they wish. We shall all be glad to get home as we have been on a longer round than usual this time."

"Yes, sir; as William--that was my third--used to say, when he got safely back after leaning a little too far in the canteen direction: 'There's no place like home, even though it's only a pigsty, Maria, me dear,' that was his way of speaking, he was such a gentleman in his manners."

"My house is not a pigsty, Mrs. Hulver," protested Alderbury, while Eola's eyes twinkled.

"I'm not saying that it is, though there's no woman in it. As William--that was my third--used to say: 'A house without a woman is only a house; it can never be called a home, however clever the man may be.'"

"It is a fault that may be easily remedied," responded Alderbury.

Mrs. Hulver glanced at him suspiciously, and then let her eyes rest upon Eola.

"If you were a bishop you might say so, sir; but you're not a bishop, and begging your pardon for saying so, you're not likely to be if I may judge by your legs. Gaiters would be impossible for you, even though you let your apron down a good four inches. As William--that was my second and as soldierly-looking man as ever stepped--used to say: 'It isn't every figure that will fit every profession.' I may tell you, sir, that by reason of my fullness of figure I was never chosen when I was young for the leading fairy in the regimental pantomime at Christmas. I was given to fullness early; but excepting in the matter at the pantomime I never felt any inconvenience from being stout. My husbands all admired stout women, and they said one after the other that fat in a woman may make her short in the breath, but it keeps her smiling. Now you're given the other way and you've got just the figure for a missionary."

"And so missionary I am to remain, eh, Mrs. Hulver?"

"There's great virtue in knowing your place and your station, sir," responded Mrs. Hulver, feeling that she was having the opportunity of her life to give the ineligible a bit of her mind. "One day you will meet a lady, suitable for a missionary's wife; and though she may dress plain, she will soon turn your house into a home with curtains and carpets and decent house-linen. She must be a good housekeeper." Mrs. Hulver again let her eyes rest on Eola as though she were taking the measure of her shortcomings in that respect. "And she must be sharp as a needle with the butler over the house accounts."

"If I am ever a bishop, Mrs. Hulver, I suppose I need not be so rigid over the housekeeping qualities of my wife. A bishop usually has a housekeeper."

"Lor, sir, how you talk! As if that would ever come to pass! But as William--that was my third--used to say: 'Many people talk like generals but have to live like privates.' There's no harm in your talking of being a bishop as long as you're content to live like a missionary. I must be going; I have a lot to do."

She bustled away, and with her went the smile that had rested on Alderbury's face. Eola watching him noted the change.

"What is it?" she asked. "You are troubled. Are you thinking of Ananda?"

"Yes; and I am blaming myself," he replied quickly. "There is so much I might have done to prevent this catastrophe if I had come when your brother called me. Instead of coming I wrote. It was not enough."

"I don't believe in a catastrophe. I don't believe that he is dead; I am sure Mrs. Hulver doesn't believe it or she would not be so indifferent. What do you fear?"

"That they have killed him between them."

"They would not dare! That would be murder and they would fear the penalty."

"Unfortunately there is no penalty in the case of an outcaste, a convert to Christianity. There might be some sort of a trial, but no judge in the State of Chirapore would do more than impose a slight punishment."

"Come into the fernery and look at my palms and lilies," she said, rising to get her hat.

She succeeded in dispersing the anxiety that had settled down upon him as he considered Ananda's case; and once more the convert was forgotten. Her hands were buried in the fronds of a maidenhair when he said suddenly:

"Don't do that; it isn't safe; there might be a snake hidden in the fern."

She laughed, but did not move her hands. Then he took them in his and drew her away from the pot where he feared danger might lurk.

"Eola, will you come and make my house a home for me? I want you; I can't live without you," he concluded with a strong man's passion.

She looked up at him suddenly serious.

"Think how far I fall short of the ideal! I---- Oh, really you are the most masterful man I ever met. Mr. Alderbury----!" And then her head dropped and she surrendered.

"Are you converted to my way of thinking," he said at last. "Or, shall I continue my arguments?"

"I am quite converted; quite!" she replied, and her eyes shone.

"Then I may tell you a secret. Whatever my figure may be in Mrs. Hulver's opinion, the gaiters and apron are looming in the distance. I heard from England by the last mail that I have been nominated for a colonial bishopric;" and he named the diocese.

"What fun it will be to see the dear old woman's face when she hears of it!"

He drew her down to a seat among the ferns.

"Never mind the old woman. I want the whole of your attention. There is so much to talk about and we have only till to-morrow," he said, already grudging the moments.

"Anyway my conversion is complete."

"Oh, is it? I am not so sure of that. At any rate I will see that nothing is left undone to make it so!"