“I care not for surroundings; I have but one desire, one favour to implore—to be allowed to go with my husband. You cannot, you will not, refuse that one little boon!” cried Io.
“Madam, I honour your devotion; I sympathize with your sorrows; I cannot refuse your petition,” said the Governor, visibly affected.
Mrs. Coldstream was not suffered to depart in the humble vehicle in which she had come, gladly as shewould have escaped from the uncongenial glare and glitter; for, now that her petition was granted, Io realized her position as the wife of a felon. A handsome carriage was placed at her disposal, and the highest officer in the Governor-General’s suite would have been proud to act as her escort. Io was impatient of delay, for the vessel which was to bear its sad cargo of criminals to the place of punishment was to sail in two days. There were preparations to be made for the voyage and the life-long exile. Io very gratefully thanked the Governor-General for all his kindness; but it was with a sigh of relief that she found herself at last on the way to the missionary’s house in which, through all the long months of suspense and waiting, she had found a quiet home.
The missionary’s wife received her guest in the veranda. Mrs. Leveson, like the rest of the Calcutta world, had heard of Mr. Coldstream’s sentence. She took the weary young wife into her motherly arms.
“Oh, dear Mrs. Leveson, I have so much, so very much to do and to think of!” cried Io. “I so need to have the quiet waiting spirit of a Mary, but I must do the work of a Martha. I have so much purchasing and packing before me, that I shall hardly have time to-morrow even to go to my husband.”
“I will do the purchasing and packing, dear child,” said the kind-hearted lady. “You have nothing to do but to give me a list of what you require.”
Very thankfully was this kindness accepted. Io would scarcely wait to throw off her bonnet, tired and heated as she was, before sitting down to draw up her list of requirements. As she was completing it, Mrs. Leveson glanced over her shoulder. “My dear child, ‘a colour-box and a supply of cardboard!’” she read out in a tone of surprise.
“Yes, my Oscar paints beautifully; he will need every resource. I am taking his flute also. Alas! he has not touched it since our marriage!”
“And you have forgotten a waterproof cloak for yourself when going to a place noted for dampness,” said Mrs. Leveson. “Dear Mrs. Coldstream, I shall have to revise your list, as well as to execute your commissions.”