A Bottle in the Smoke: A Tale of Anglo-Indian Life. Janet Milne Rae. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Janet Milne Rae
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
Год издания: 0
isbn: 4064066171759
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to her news, and what a complete surprise to her was the source of his annoyance! That Mark Cheveril, Charlie's best friend, who during his short visits to Pinkthorpe Rectory had won golden opinions from all; that he, her own good friend and comrade, should be viewed as a person of social disabilities was a revelation to her. It seemed a breach of good feeling, and disloyal to her home estimates, to entertain such an idea for a moment. Nor was her husband's sudden change of front on hearing that Charlie's friend was coming to enter the great service any more explicable to the carefully nurtured English girl. She must think it out!

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      Veeraswamy, the butler, had, according to his master's standing order, lowered the heavy rattan blinds of the verandah, and duly excluded the strengthening sun-rays from the rooms under his charge. It was therefore something of a surprise to a visitor now being announced to pass from the surrounding gloom to a chamber flooded with sunshine.

      "Oh, this is good," he exclaimed, in a frank, ringing voice. "Why, I expected to find you a bunched-up mystery of white muslin reclining in a dark room; and here you are basking in a glorious light, delightfully like the Hester of Pinkthorpe, even to your pinky frock!"

      "Mark, this is a happy surprise!" cried Hester with a radiant smile, coming forward from the writing-table where she sat. "This is a joy, you are my first visitor from home!"

      "And you, my first welcome to my native land."

      "It was only this morning I heard from Charlie that you were on your way. But did you not meet my husband? He drove off meaning to meet the Bokhara."

      "Then Mr. Rayner and I must have missed each other. I'm sorry! We got in earlier than was expected, and I, with one of my fellow-passengers, drove at once to the Club, where I deposited my baggage and had breakfast; then I came on here."

      "Oh, but you must come and stay with us. Everybody stays with everybody here, you know. And you see what great spaces we have——"

      "Yes, they are most satisfactory. I've often seen them in my dreams," said the young man, bending forward, his face all aglow. "You cannot imagine the excitement, the exaltation, I felt when our steamer all at once stood still, and I looked out in the first flush of the dawn and saw the amber sands and the long straggling arms of the eastern town. I kept saying: 'This is India, the home of my mother, the wonderful land where my father came to begin his life-work, to find love and an early grave!'"

      Hester's attitude as she listened to these eager words would have proved wholly sympathetic had there not crept into her mind the recollection of her husband's warning. Should she break the ice at once and give a timely caution to her old friend and comrade that he must not label himself as belonging to the community said to be so despised? No, she could not, she decided; besides, surely Alfred's prejudices were like a gossamer thread which would at once snap in the presence of this strong-natured man.

      "You and my husband must meet at once," she said eagerly. "Our peon can fetch your luggage; you needn't even go back to the Club. We'll have tiffin and a long chat."

      "I only wish I could stay, but I've promised to lunch at the Club with my ami de voyage; and then, by the way, I believe I'm inveigled into an engagement for the afternoon. The Brigadier-General, whom I met at the Club, asked me to a garden party at his house this afternoon——"

      "Oh, yes, we're going to Mrs. Glanton's party. You'll meet Alfred there. Then surely we'll be allowed to take possession of you, and we'll drive home to dinner together."

      "Thanks, that will be delightful! I find that for three days I'm still a free man. I'm posted to Puranapore, if you know such a place. My knowledge of it dates only from this morning. My chief-to-be very considerately wrote suggesting that I should tarry a few days in Madras."

      "That's good. I have heard of Puranapore. Alfred has some clients there."

      "I've no doubt Mr. Rayner will be able to tell me much that I want to know."

      "Of course he will. He's been two years here, you know, and is quite an old Indian now. You and I are 'griffins,' as they call new-comers here. Alfred will be delighted to tell you all he can, I'm sure."

      Soon they passed to that topic so near to the heart of Anglo-Indians—the home across the sea—and to the centre of it all to the girl, the ivy-clad Pinkthorpe Rectory set amid its green fields and hedges where the sun smiled but never scorched as in this eastern land.

      Mark Cheveril was able to give her the latest news, for he had paid a brief farewell visit to it before he sailed.

      "I'm thinking of what a delightful picture I shall be able to make of you basking in the sunshine as I saw you when I came in. It will go into my letter which I promised to write to your mother by the first mail," said Mark, as he rose to go. "Then we are to meet at this said Mrs. Glanton's?"

      "'This said Mrs. Glanton's,' forsooth!" laughed Hester, raising her eyebrows. "I assure you she is a very formidable leader of society here. Alfred has the greatest admiration for her, thinks her a perfect model for new-comers like me. But I fear I shall never attain to her splendid manners," she added, with a little sigh.

      Mark Cheveril, as his eye rested on the fair young wife, involuntarily hoped that she would not model herself on any Mrs. Glanton, however much her husband might wish it, but would remain the bright girlish presence that had graced her happy English home.

      They were standing in the verandah now. The hired bandy which had been waiting under a tree was called, and the visitor drove off to keep his appointment at the Club.

      The little cloud of the morning had been chased away from Hester's heart by the spell of the revived comradeship. To be sure, no managing hostess had intervened between these two to foster any warmer feelings than good fellowship. But Hester's loyalty was well developed, and her husband's sneering words of the morning still haunted her. Should she have ventured to sound the warning note, struck no doubt from her husband's larger experience, and would it have been wiser to do so even before he began his life in the East? She had friendship enough to do so. Had they not ridden together along leafy Worcestershire lanes and talked of many things? But there was a glance in Mark Cheveril's serene hazel eye, an innate courtesy about his whole deportment which made her divine that he would receive any such warning with gentle disdain. In fact, she decided, she must warn Alfred to beware of broaching the subject.

      Mr. Rayner only returned from the High Court in time to join his wife on their drive to the garden party. She told him of Mark Cheveril's arrival, and of his already having found his way to Clive's Road; of the prospect of their meeting him now and of his returning with them; but she observed that her husband listened absently to the news. His preoccupation regarding the coming entertainment caused her some surprise. Social functions of the kind in the home county had never created the desire to make an impression which seemed to lurk under Alfred's excitement over his handsome new landau and the well-matched pair of Australian horses with their couple of smart syces.

      The queue of carriages was already far stretching on the leafy road which skirted the Glanton's compound when Mr. and Mrs. Rayner's landau took its place there; but at last it came to their turn to alight and follow the stream of guests along the broad crimson strip to the spot where the hostess had elected to receive them.

      Hester's eye was charmed by the picture suddenly unfolded to her on the wide flat lawn of the spreading compound, bordered by its glades of dense shrubberies intersected by winding walks. The mellow light of the late afternoon sun tinged all the landscape, turning to gold the graceful over-hanging palms, revealing glimpses of the green waters of the tank which sparkled like jets of emerald, and etherealising the Indian garden for the first time to the eyes of all new-comers.

      The long hot months were over, and, freshened by the recent rains, Madras was again considered suitable for the highest officials. The civil and military element was well represented. Red coats mingled picturesquely with the smart feminine toilettes just