CHAPTER XVII.
One day, starting on a journey, I entered an apartment on the train in which there was a lady and gentleman. They were very reserved as all English people are.
I remember the remark of the great Dr. Johnson to his friend Boswell, “Sir, two men of any other nation who are thrown into a room together at a house where they are both visitors will immediately find some conversation. But two Englishmen will probably go each to a different window and remain in absolute silence.
“Sir, we do not understand the common rights of humanity.”
Apropos of this, I recall an account of a shipwreck when only two men, Englishmen of course, were saved, one clinging to the foremast and the other to the mainmast. One, as he was rescued was asked, “Who is that other man?” He replied, “I don’t know.” “But didn’t you speak to him?” “Speak to him!” he exclaimed. “How could I when we had not been introduced?”
I read my paper for awhile in silence. I am never alone when I have a good book or paper, and yet I felt like talking, as I sometimes do. Probably we all feel that way. Strange isn’t it?
I tried to think of something to break the silence between myself and my two silent fellow travelers, but failed entirely. Some miles were passed, and I thought of a good iced drink that my bearer had brought for me in my traveler’s ice box, and without a reflection, but from the impulse of my good nature, I suggested that perhaps they might take something. Had I been acquainted, I might have said in good Johnsonese, “Let us reciprocate,” but I was prudent and cautious. They accepted at once with thanks. This broke the ice between us, and I found them very pleasant company. It is said, no matter by whom, that if an Englishman is once introduced, or the ice is broken, he can be very affable. Probably this may be true.
It was so in this case so what matter elsewhere. We enjoyed our conversation so much that our journey passed quickly and we were scarcely aware that we were at the end of it. They gave me their cards, and said they were from Wazirabad. Wazirabad! How that name struck me! I quickly asked, “Did you know a Mr. and Mrs. Strangway, who lived there?” Both replied at once, “They were our most intimate friends!” I told them that the Strangways, years ago, had adopted a little sister of mine, and though I and another had written, we could never get a word from them or about her. They replied, that soon after the Strangways returned with the little girl they left for Europe taking her with them, and remained abroad for years, where she was educated. While absent, the Strangways from some cause or other were obliged to return to India, and soon after their arrival they both died suddenly from the cholera. “But what became of the daughter?” I impatiently asked. Replied the lady: “She was left without any means, and went as a governess to Bhagulpur.” At the mention of this name I sprang to my feet with a start. “Do you know to whom she went?” I asked.
The lady looked at her husband, and after a moment’s hesitation said, “Wasn’t it to the Shaws?” “Great Heavens! then I have seen her without knowing her,” I exclaimed. My heart thumped in its beating, and cold chills raced over me. They probably attributed this to my excitement, at suddenly hearing of my long-lost sister. And I, what did I think, or what didn’t I think? That villain of a magistrate leaving the station, and the sudden disappearance of the governess, my sister!
We shook hands, but I hardly knew when my newly made friends left me. Horror of horrors! To have been so near and yet not known her, and that cursed old Englishman talking about her as he did, and how could I think it, leading her astray! My sister! As long as she was somebody else’s sister, how little I cared, but now when she was my sister? How could I think of it? How endure it? I went to some hotel, I cared not where. I had no desire for dinner. I could not sleep or rest, but walked the floor. What a never ending night it was! The moments grew into hours, and the hours into days, before the morning broke. It seemed as if I was under the curse of Heaven. Born under a curse, with trouble enough already to have broken my heart, when would it end? Would this be my lot until death released me? What maddening thoughts I had during that long never ending night! It seemed as if my heart would burst and my brain go mad in anger and despair. I forgot my business and took the first train for home, and the journey seemed eternal.