“One of the fellows is lodged in an hospital, another in a jail,” said Colonel Miller, laughing; “I suppose that the story of the third will be that he bought a rope with his rupee, and hanged himself in the next mango-grove.”
Most of the rest of the company laughed; but Manton Sahib turned attentively to listen to what Padre Logan was going to say. “What did the third man do with his money?” he inquired.
“He gave it to Padre Ghopal, to help to rebuild the little native church that was thrown down by the flood,” was the padre’s reply.
All the company looked surprised. No one had been surprised to hear of a man getting drunk on bang, or of another being tortured and robbed; but they regarded the poor ryot’s free-will offering to God as a very strange thing indeed.
“I can scarcely believe it,” said Colonel Miller; and his face expressed doubt yet more than did his words.
“I was myself present when Isa Das gave his rupee into the hand of Ghopal,” said the English padre.
“Then I can only say that this ryot gives me a higher opinion of the natives of India than I ever had before,” observed Colonel Miller.
“You see, sir,” said Logan, addressing himself to Manton Sahib, “that not all of the rupees went to the thieves or to the seller of bang.”
Manton Sahib was silent for some moments, reflecting deeply. At the time of his preservation from drowning he had thanked God for saving him from death, but never till he heard of the gift of the poor ryot had he thought of bringing a thank-offering, an acknowledgment of the mercy shown to him by God. The poor man’s piety kindled a feeling of piety in the breast of the wealthy Sahib, even as one torch is kindled by another.
“Are the natives, then, so anxious to have their church built?” the commissioner asked of the clergyman.