Chapter XXVII

Alderbury addressed a few words to his companion in the language of the country and received monosyllabic replies which gave him no encouragement to persevere in his efforts at making conversation or to extract information. He concluded that she was a shy and frightened member of a zenana where very little liberty was allowed. It would all come right in time; she would lose the shy self-consciousness with education.

From his companion his thoughts went to her brother. He distrusted Bopaul's cynicism, mild and harmless though it might be; but he could not help admiring the force of character in the man who had struck whilst the iron was hot. If Bopaul had not handed her over personally and assured him that all was well, Alderbury would never have ventured to take the girl away. The parents had probably been urged to give a consent, and before they could withdraw it their son had taken action to carry out the intention. It was evident that he revolted against the Hindu system of widowhood, and with his modern enlightenment desired reform. This was his method of protest and it was to be commended. It was also in its way a mark of the philanthropy that is entering the Hinduism of the present day, one of the attributes of Christianity which Brahmanism is ready to adopt into its system and claim as its own.

More than two hours passed during which Mayita, shrouded in her saree, nestled in the corner of the big motor car. Alderbury returned to the perusal of his letters and forgot her very existence. So still and silent was she that she might have been one of the leather cushions instead of a human waif. They passed the boundary of the native State and sped through British territory. In another half hour they entered the little town that had been Christianised. Alderbury put away his letters and kept his eyes on the road, that he might not miss the smiles and nods of the villagers as they welcomed him back.

The mission house was a large rambling bungalow with thatched roof and wide verandahs. In the same compound stood the school and orphanage. At a little distance was the church shining with marble whiteness in the afternoon sun.

As the car drew up under a porch made of rough square stone pillars and palm-leaf roof, Alderbury thought of the handsome portico of the college house, a very different building. He jumped out of the car with his habitual impetuosity forgetting his companion. Mrs. Hulver's words were in his mind. A house without a woman was only a house. It was quite true although his careful servant had not forgotten to prepare a late afternoon tea. He noted the table set in the verandah with the earthen tea-pot and the thick cups that bore the mark of many camping expeditions through his district. Very different, was the table from the dainty arrangement in another verandah, where the figure of the tea-maker was set in a background of ipomea and bignonia.

"Bring tea quickly, boy," he said as he passed on towards his sitting-room in search of the letters that should have come by the morning post.

The servant glanced after him and then held up his hand to arrest the figure that followed.

"Wait, lady, until the master calls," he said respectfully; and Mayita stood listening and trembling in the verandah.

As Alderbury entered his sitting-room a man rose from a chair and advanced to meet him. He was dressed in European clothes although he was a Hindu. Over his eye was a recently healed wound.

"Ananda!" cried Alderbury, astonished beyond measure.

"The same, sir," was the reply.

"How did you get here? We made so sure of your being still under your father's roof that I can scarcely believe my eyes."

"By the help of friends. It is a long story----"

His words were checked by the sound of a cry. The widow refusing to be detained any longer by the servant, rushed forward past Alderbury, never stopping till she had fallen at Ananda's feet. In a moment he was on his knees by her side forgetful of the missionary and all else.

"My wife! my pearl! my beloved! How did you manage to escape? how did you get here? But what have they done to you my beautiful lotus? They have cut off your hair! and this cloth! what does it mean?"

The words poured from his lips with a string of eager questions which Dorama could only answer with sobs.

"Who do you say this woman is?" demanded Alderbury in some bewilderment.

"She is Dorama, my wife, sir! And see what they have done to her, poor child! Not content with nearly beating the life out of me they have widowed her! the brutes! This is my uncle's doing. I will be even with him. He shall answer for it with his life! I will kill him as he would have killed me; and I will widow his----"

"Gently, Ananda! The Hindu in you dies hard. You do well to be angry, but don't mistake anger for revenge."

The hand that was laid upon his shoulder held in check the tempestuous wrath.

"Forgive me, sir. Wrong done against myself I can forgive--but this!" He looked down at his wife.

"They believed that you had drowned yourself, so successfully have you been hidden," said Alderbury. "And they considered themselves justified in their action."

Ananda lifted his drooping, but happy, wife to her feet and kept his arm about her. His anger melted and he forgot his wrath in the consciousness of her presence.

"How did she come here," he asked in calmer tones.

"I brought her," replied Alderbury.

"You, sir," repeated Ananda in surprise.

"Yes; your friend Bopaul must have interested himself in your affairs; for it was he who met me on the road this afternoon and begged me to take his widowed sister to the mission house and keep her there. He deceived me and took me in completely."

A smile dispersed the frown of anger that had rested on Ananda's face.

"Ah, the clever Bopaul! It was well planned. He is a friend worth having!" he said warmly.

"I'm afraid he is--a--a perverter of the truth!" blurted out the missionary.

"A splendid liar!" agreed Ananda enthusiastically. "I know of no one better. It is a great accomplishment in a Hindu to lie usefully and successfully."

"But it is altogether wrong in a Christian."

"I know it is!" replied the 'vert with a sigh of contrition. "I am afraid I have not been altogether straightforward myself of late."

"Tell me all about yourself and how you managed to escape," said Alderbury kindly, knowing that it would be best for him to talk it out instead of brooding over his wrongs, and perhaps being incited by his wife to further ill-will in considering the persecution she had endured for his sake. "When did you arrive?"

They seated themselves, Ananda retaining his hold on his wife as though he still feared lest she should be snatched away from him again. She sank upon the floor at his feet, resting an arm upon his knee with a comfortable sense of security which went towards compensating her for some of the unhappiness that had lately fallen to her lot. Alderbury called for the tea to be brought into his sitting-room.

"I arrived this morning."

"By train?"

"No, sir; I came by bullock cart. Let me tell you the story from the beginning. After your call at my father's house I was allowed to see my wife in the presence of the guru, who paid us a visit to inquire why the restitution ceremonies had not been performed. He tried to come between myself and my wife; but I was determined not to permit anything of the kind. Our interview was not pleasant. After it was over, and I had returned to my room I resolved to put an end to the uncomfortable state of affairs and leave my father's house."

"You were right in your intention."

"I made a mistake in not accepting your offer of help, sir. It was an error of judgment. My intention was to right my own battle without assistance."

"I understand; but how did you ultimately get away?"

"I was to all intents and purposes a prisoner in the house, and escape was no easy matter. I found a friend in the pariah I despised so much. By his advice I made the contents of my boxes into bundles and he undertook to take them to Biddapet, a station about ten miles out of Chirapore in this direction. I was coming here, of course. The luggage was gone and I was spending what I hoped was my last night in that miserable little room when I was awakened by a touch on my hand. It was my wife. She came to me in great distress to tell me that our son was dead."

There was a pause which Alderbury did not break. Ananda went on with his story.

"I persuaded her to throw in her lot with mine. It was a long walk to Biddapet, but she thought she could manage it if I gave her time. We started off before it was light and reached the wall of the compound. Unfortunately we disturbed a pariah dog. It barked and I threw a stone at it. It shrieked and the noise must have been heard in the house; for we were followed by our uncle and four other members of the family. They caught us up and we were powerless in their hands. There was nothing to be done but to go back, which we did; and when we reached the house my wife and I were again separated. That night I was severely beaten; and during the frightful ordeal my uncle never ceased to call upon me to recant. How I lived through it I don't know. God in his goodness gave me strength to bear the pain and to hold fast to Christ. I did not take my punishment with the meekness of the Great Master. I fought for my liberty. They were too many and too strong for me, however. I was held down, and it seemed at the time as if they must break every bone in my body."

Up to that point Ananda had used the English tongue. He laid his hand on his wife's and asked in native speech whether she knew that he had been beaten.

"Aiyoh! husband! I suffered and died with thee, beloved lord!"

Her eyes filled with tears and she kissed the hand passionately. He continued in the vernacular which Alderbury understood.

"After they left me I fainted. I don't know how long I lay there, but the next thing I remember was water being dashed into my face. I tried to protect my eyes, but the movement gave me great pain, and I cried out; I was so terribly bruised. Someone spoke to me in a whisper and told me to be quiet. Once more my friend in need was the sweeper; the man you saw, Mr. Alderbury, when you paid me a visit."

"You were too sick to think of caste any longer, I imagine."

"Indeed, I was! I let him do with me as he would; and I was grateful, more grateful than I can express. He rubbed my wounds with some soothing ointment and staunched the blood; for I was bleeding a good deal. Then he gave me a draught with opium in it. It deadened the pain and made me drowsy and indifferent to all that was happening to me."

"Good man! worthy of the name of Christian though he is only a heathen," commented Alderbury with warm approval.

Dorama did not take the same view.

"Husband, did you really accept the services of the sweeper?" she asked, her wondering eyes lifted to his with concern for his welfare.

"Yes, my lotus flower, I did; and I owe him my life. I should have died of exhaustion and starvation if I had been left untended all that night and the following day."

"What happened next?" asked Alderbury as Ananda showed a disposition to end his tale there.

"Before I continue my story I must ask you to keep my secret. I have given a promise that it is to be told to no one but yourself; and I pray you to respect our confidence."

"'Our confidence'?"

"Mine and Mrs. Hulver's."

There was a pause; and then, as enlightenment came, Alderbury said in a low voice:

"So then, you were young William?"

"The sweeper carried me wrapped in a sheet; for I could neither walk nor stand. It was between two and three o'clock in the morning when I was hoisted on to his back in a half unconscious state, my senses too stupefied to feel much pain, and I was taken to the college house. Mrs. Hulver was roused from her sleep by the sweeper woman--who works there, and is a relative of the man--and I was handed over to the housekeeper. I have since called her mother, so good and kind has she been to me. Under her care I recovered."

"And through her good offices you have come to me. How did you get here? By train?"

"No, sir; I came in your own cart and brought my luggage with me," replied Ananda. He continued his story. "When the sweeper found that I did not turn up as I promised at the little station, he carried the bundles back to his own house and came hot-foot to learn the reason of my failure to keep the appointment. There he found me in that sorry plight."

"I am still puzzled," said Alderbury after a little thought. "Mrs. Hulver's son was seen by Miss Wenaston lying on the cot in her sitting-room; and he was wearing uniform, the uniform of the regiment."

"When I regained consciousness in her room, I found myself dressed in the uniform that belonged to her son's father. She had kept it, and though it was very old and a loose fit, it served as an excellent disguise."

"She is a wonderful woman!"

"The kindest! the best!"

Ananda stopped with sudden emotion, his heart too full for words.

"I suppose this means that all communication between yourself and your family comes to an end," remarked Alderbury.

"I think not, sir," replied Ananda in a decisive voice. "Why should I be banished from my home like a criminal because I have changed my religion? I shall not allow my wife to go back. There is no reason why she should run any risk of insult; but I shall go back later on, when the irritation against me has died down, and see my father and mother."

"Don't put yourself in any unnecessary danger. Past experience should make you careful," said Alderbury.

"It has been dearly bought and is not likely to be forgotten," replied Ananda, with a touch of bitterness.

"And remember also that in Chirapore you, as an outcaste and Christian, have no civil rights."

"I am not likely to forget what is the only stain upon its government as a model native State. I should not think of returning to live there; but I mean to go some time or other to see my mother."

The old obstinacy was still to the fore. Behind it stood no longer the weakness and vacillation of youth, but the noble courage of a man who had been tried in the fire of affliction and not found wanting.

"And now I want to know how your wife managed to get away and meet me on the road."

"Tell your story, beloved. I, too, want to hear how you escaped and who befriended you," said Ananda.

"The friend was the same Englishwoman who helped you," answered Dorama timidly; but gaining courage she continued: "She arranged it all with Bopaul. There was no difficulty; for since I have been thus"--she touched her coarse cloth--"no one has cared how I spent my time nor where I wandered. Mayita came every day to see me and we passed hours in your little room, my lord, where I found this!" She pulled out his glove and showed it to him. "At sunset yesterday Mayita brought me a message from Bopaul to say that my husband was alive and safe on British ground, out of reach of our uncle's spite. Oh, how I rejoiced at the good news! but I was obliged to hide my feelings. Mayita told me that if I wished to see him again, I was to keep my secret and follow every direction sent by her, without asking any questions. This morning as soon as I could leave the house I went to the little room and there I found Mayita waiting for me. She said that I was to go at once to Bopaul whom I should find in the compound. He was there. Without a word he took my hand as he takes his sister's and together we walked away. Any one seeing us from the house would have thought that he was leading his sister home, for my saree was drawn over my head; and Mayita has grown nearly as tall as I am."

"Did no one notice you, my pearl?"

"Who would let his eye rest on the unlucky widow any longer than he could help? Those who might have seen turned their heads away."

"Your wife may thank your enemies for what they did," remarked Alderbury. "Without her widow's dress she could never have escaped."

"Bopaul brought some food with him, for we had a long way to go. We walked steadily for an hour. Then he made me sit down and rest. Afterwards we walked again, and my heart beat fast when I heard the call of the big fire carriage; but I grew quiet again when I sat by Mr. Alderbury's side, and we flew along the road like the wind. I felt that no one, not even our uncle, could catch me and take me back. Ah, husband, how I suffered when they did this to me!"

She passed her hand over her bald head. Ananda stooped and kissed the shaven crown.

"Beloved, it will soon grow again and be more beautiful than ever."

Alderbury slipped away unnoticed. He was full of sympathy for the two poor souls who had passed through so much pain whilst for himself all had been as he desired.