Her own people

by B. M. Croker

CHAPTER XXXIV

The tragic fate of Razat Sing and his blind wife made a little stir for a few days in and around Manora, but, unfortunately, these suicides of despair were becoming common; public sensitiveness was somewhat hardened and callous—familiarity breeds indifference. Razat Sing had hanged himself; his blind wife had gone from darkness to darkness by the aid of a little poisonous root. There was an end of the old couple, and other affairs wafted these two insignificant particles down the dark river of forgetfulness. The great charity ball already mentioned was imminent at Lucknow; it was to be on a grand scale, and held in that notable building, "the Chutter-Munzil," formerly the palace of the kings of Oude. This function would be the brilliant closing event of the cold weather season. Residents from surrounding districts, soldier folk from distant stations, and crowds of tourists, would pour into Lucknow for the occasion, and thus swell the receipts of the fund. Tickets were only ten rupees; the committee had been most carefully selected; everything was to be thoroughly well done, and carried out on a scale of unusual magnitude. Mrs. Lepell, who was one of the patronesses, volunteered to chaperon Verona and Pussy, and had taken rooms at an hotel, where the two girls would be her guests. (Mrs. Chandos, not to be behindhand, had secured somewhat squalid quarters for herself in the abode of a friend, and would be present at the ball, carrying in her train Dominga and Blanche.) This visit was an event for Verona, who had seen nothing of India beyond Manora and Rajahpore. The afternoon of her arrival at the "Royal Hotel" Mrs. Lepell drove the two girls out to see the historic Residency; its grey walls, torn and shattered by shot and shell, were now clothed by the most exquisite white and yellow creepers. The compound, that scene of such desperate bloodshed, was a velvet sward, intersected with neat paths and flowering shrubs.

It was only when the sightseers came to the graves, that Tragedy raised her face. From the Residency the party were driven round by Dilkoosha and into the cantonment. Here they saw numbers of people riding and driving; polo was going forward, bands were playing, and in some places the traffic of landaus, dog-carts, ekkas and bullock bandies was so great that the roads were almost blocked. Here, too, were bugle calls, the sounds of cheery English voices, the distant hum of a great city. Here was another India to Manora, with its monotonous stretches of rippling cane, half-naked coolies, and a few red-roofed bungalows, clustered around the factory.

It was ten o'clock; the hired landau was at the steps and Mrs. Lepell and her charges were ready to start for the ball. The lady herself, who was always admirably turned out, wore a dress of a delicate mauve shade, and splendid diamond ornaments. Verona, in white, wore her pearls and a wonderful bow of brilliants, which fastened her corsage; these being her most valuable possessions she had hoarded them in a little chamois-leather bag, and thus saved them from the thieves. No doubt her jewels and her dress were startlingly unsuitable to the daughter of Mr. Lepell's sub-manager, but she had resolved for once to enjoy the occasion, and to abandon herself to this evening's entertainment as the Verona Chandos of other days. Mrs. Lepell mentally seconded this resolution, and was determined that nothing on her part should be wanting to encourage the illusion.

When they arrived at the Chutter-Munzil, the ball was already in full progress (Indian ball-goers are notoriously punctual). Mrs. Lepell was recognised by many acquaintances as she moved up to a raised platform at the other end of the room, sacred to sitters-out. Many a glance was cast at her beautiful companion, and, indeed, Pussy, in a smart pink gown, with her luminous eyes and smiling lips, was a by no means ill-looking young person. All sorts and conditions of people were present—a charity entertainment covers many classes—but there was a large preponderance of smart people, and crowds of men, the dresses and the diamonds well up to the mark of a London ball-room. Verona stood by her chaperon on the raised platform, and looked down on the scene—the great pillared hall, the wonderful chandeliers and the glittering show. A multitude gay with uniforms, bright dresses, bright faces, and bright jewels, whirled round and round to the strains of a languorous, heart-broken waltz.

Among the dancers who swept by she noticed Captain Haig and Captain Fielder, and presently Salwey sauntered up and accosted his aunt.

"Why, Brian," she cried, "I thought you told me that you could not possibly get away?"

"I've just managed it at the last moment. I go back the day after to-morrow. One ball a year is not much. Miss Chandos," turning to Verona, "I hope you will honour me with a waltz?"

"Yes, with pleasure," she replied.

"Number seven?"

"Very well," she acquiesced.

"And what do you say to the fag end of this one? just to try the floor."

Verona rose, took his arm, and descended into the vortex and found to her great relief that Brian Salwey, in spite of but one ball a year, danced delightfully well. As she presently stood aside a little out of breath, he said:

"I've been trying to trace your jewels," and he glanced at her beautiful diamonds; "I see you had some left."

"Yes," she assented, "these I had sewn inside the sleeve of one of my dresses—they are the most valuable of all."

"I believe I am on the track of the others," he said, "but the necklace—has gone to Delhi."

"From whence I feel convinced it will never come back!" she said; "well, it cannot be helped. After all, it would not be much use to me now."

"I left your brother Nicky in charge of my stud while I am away; he is monarch of all he surveys. I expect he will keep the horses going pretty well."

"Yes, poor Nicky," she said, "he is so fond of riding, and would never get a mount at all only for you. You have been very good to him, Mr. Salwey."

"Good to myself," he rejoined. "Nicky is capital company for me, and I like him; there is a lot of grit about that boy; unless I am mistaken, he will turn out well."

As they talked, they were strolling slowly round the great ball-room, the dance being over, and among the crowd they encountered Captain Haig, who paused, not a little startled to behold the Miss Chandos of other days! On the spur of the moment he accosted her and begged for a dance. This she at once accorded him, and having scribbled down "Captain Haig" opposite number nine, passed on. Mrs. Lepell, who had found partners for Pussy, was now besieged for introductions to her friend, "the girl in white," and in a few moments after Verona's return to her side she had not one dance to spare.

Dominga and Captain Fielder were inseparable, and for once reckless of appearances; Dom with her lithe white figure, her red hair, green wreath, and bright shameless eyes, looked like a beautiful Bacchante. As Captain Haig lounged on the edge of the crowd, he overheard several sentences which sank into his mind and there abode.

"Do just look at that red-haired girl! how she is enjoying herself," remarked a man to his partner—a lady of a certain age and importance. "What a graceful creature she is!"

"Yes, she seems crazy with excitement! I really wonder Captain Fielder cares to make himself so conspicuous, especially as he is staying at Government House. She is a Eurasian, from that sugar factory near Rajahpore. Her mother is as black as your boot—she has aunts and uncles in the bazaar!"

"Nonsense, I would not have believed it."

"It is true, and here comes another of them," as Blanche swept by, in the arms of a dusky partner. Blanche, showing all her teeth, as she chattered incessantly; Blanche decked out in a flame-coloured frock, with long blue silk gloves and strings of shells in her hair.

"I daresay you would not believe that that girl opposite in white is their sister," and the lady indicated Verona with her fan. "She has been in England, and looks quite presentable, only for her paste ornaments! Mrs. Lepell brought her here to-night—such a mistake! they are awful people, and have no pretensions to be in society."

"At any rate, the girl seems to have any number of fellows clamouring to dance with her!" remarked the man rather dryly. "She is uncommonly handsome. I should never have thought that she had a touch of the tar brush."

"Well, she has, and four annas in the rupee at least!" retorted his partner viciously. (Verona had been admired in her hearing, and was obviously overwhelmed with partners, whilst she had only three names on her programme, and was naturally envious and annoyed.) Captain Haig, now too late, bitterly regretted his impulse. What a fool he had been to ask the girl to dance! He had no desire to make himself conspicuous by being seen with her; besides, what was the good of it? She and he must be strangers for the future. At one moment he thought of shirking number nine altogether—finally, he decided to claim it, and withdraw into some secluded place, and there sit it out. And here was number nine now! As the band had struck up "Valse Bleu," Captain Haig and his partner took one turn before they came to a full stop, and then they stood side by side in silence. He still deplored his momentary madness—what had possessed him? what was he to say to this girl? He was dumb, and from all sides rose the hum of voices, and there was a general effect of gaiety and social pleasure. At last he muttered:

"Shall we go on?" and slipped his arm round her waist.

At the end of a brief turn, he abruptly led his partner away into a distant corridor lined with seats. Was he ashamed to be seen with her? This was the humbling impression he gave his former goddess. Yet he felt the spell of her beauty drawing him towards her, precisely as it had done of old, and he also felt that he was bound to say something. How was he to tell her that he had adored her until the disclosure of her parentage had extinguished his passion? As he stood beside her, still tongue-tied, whilst she fanned herself with a languid grace, her mother flaunted by on the arm of a stout Eurasian. Mrs. Chandos wore the celebrated pink satin, a tuft of feathers quivered in her hair; at her throat sparkled the emerald pendant. She was talking so eagerly to her companion that the presence of her daughter entirely escaped her sharp black eyes. As she disappeared down the corridor, Captain Haig stifled a sigh, and began without preamble:

"Miss Chandos—what must you think of me? but I will say one thing—I shall honour you as long as ever I live—and I ask for—nothing—don't hate me—but——" and he paused with embarrassing significance.

"Hate you, Captain Haig?" she exclaimed, looking up; "why should I hate you? I"—and her eyes involuntarily followed the little mincing pink figure—"I understand."

"I am most awfully wretched," he continued, in a lachrymose voice.

"'Into each lot some rain must fall,'" she quoted gently.

"By Jove, then, I've had a whole monsoon! all my hopes have been torn down and washed away. You know what they were."

Before she could make any reply to this question the band ceased with a crash, and a crowd of dancers poured into the corridor, en route to the refreshment-room. As Dom and Captain Fielder hurried by, she said, as she looked after the retreating couple:

"Captain Fielder is your cousin, I believe?"

"Yes," giving himself a mental shake, "my second cousin—not a bad sort of chap—rather a silly ass in some things."

"Now I am going to ask you a strange question. Do you think he intends to marry my sister?"

"Well, Miss Chandos, since you put it to me straight like that, I should say that I am sure he does not."

"Captain Haig, do you remember a note you wrote me the morning you left Homburg?"

"I do—I remember everything in any way connected with you" (this was a statement of the wildest exaggeration), "every dress you wore, every word you said, every look you gave me."

"You remember what you said in that letter?"

"I do. If ever the Princess wanted a champion, to summon me."

"I am no Princess now—but I need your help sorely."

"All right, only too glad to get the chance of being of service—to you."

"It is not for myself exactly—it is to help my sister Dominga." He frowned involuntarily. "Yes, I want you to use your influence with your cousin—to get him to put an end to this foolish affair—otherwise I am convinced it will end in a—a scandal. My father has had many troubles—he must be spared this. A family disgrace—would kill him!"

"He shall be spared this if I can manage it, but Jimmy is a queer mixture; in one way he is weak, and easily worked upon—in another, the more you oppose him, the harder he resists. If I tried to interfere openly, it would be no good. Can't you persuade your sister to break it off?"

"No; she is hopelessly headstrong, and deaf as an adder to all my entreaties. She thinks"—and here she paused.

"What does she think?"

"You will laugh when I tell you—she thinks that I am jealous."

"Jealous of her, and that empty-headed dolt. Good heavens! I say, I'll tell you what I can do. The hot weather is coming on—I have invited Jimmy to spend a couple of months tiger shooting in the Terai. He is not particularly keen, but I'll do my very best to persuade him. In two months he will have forgotten her—a fortnight is his usual limit—but she won't forget him, eh?"

"Oh, but that won't matter; for, as my grandmother says, 'One hand cannot clap.'"

"Do you mean to say your grandmother is alive?" he asked aghast.

"Yes, and a most remarkable woman," she replied, with the utmost nonchalance; "very clever indeed in medicine and nursing—full of wise sayings. I am extremely fond of her."

Captain Haig made no remark, and she continued:

"You will go soon—won't you?"

"Out shooting? Yes," he answered, with a start; "I'll make arrangements, and we will set out the week after next."

"Thank you, a thousand times."

"Don't—I wish I could do a thousand times more."

At this moment Dominga and her partner returned and halted directly in front of them.

"We have been having oysters—delicious oysters," she announced, and a wild vivacity was in her face and manner. "I'd advise you two to go and get some before they are all gone."

"Thank you, Miss Chandos," said Captain Haig, "but I have not your courage."

"Cha-a-ah! fancy being afraid of a poor little oyster—a Bombay oyster! What are you two confabbing about? You look as if you were discussing the affairs of the nation."

Verona made no answer (a partner had come to claim her for the next dance), and her late cavalier replied to the question with a forced smile.

"We were only arranging the affairs of some of our friends."

Dominga, as she moved on, turned her long neck, and with one of her peacock screams, cried:

"Happy friends!"