'Poor mother!' he murmured.
'She has been eating her heart out with anxiety this dreadful year; you may be sure of it. You owe her a little comfort—a little consideration.'
'I owe her everything,' said Tom impulsively. 'Don't urge me too much, General. You would be the first to tell me to consider my duty.'
'Of course I should. But your duty, it seems to me, is as plain as a pikestaff. You have to look to the re-establishment of your health. If you think that is to come about in a summer in the plains—over a hundred in the shade and other things to follow suit—why, all I can say is that you are hugely mistaken.'
Having delivered himself thus, the old General stalked off, for he believed that his words would take more effect if he did not bolster them up with too many arguments. Tom consulted Chunder Singh. He said plainly that he belonged to Gumilcund. Since the recent events which had endeared to him unspeakably both the city and those who dwelt in it, he had felt that no other place in the world could ever be his home. It was not his intention, however, to give up his English citizenship altogether. Chunder Singh, who was a wise man, knew very well that the maintenance of those cordial relations—that sympathy—with the Paramount Power which had enabled them to steer, not only safely but triumphantly, through the late dangerous crisis, was a matter of importance to Gumilcund. These, he believed, would be strengthened by personal intercourse with England, which he had always proposed to visit from time to time. His friends wished him to go over that summer. The question was, would the people and the elders of the State consider the time suitable? Would there be any fear—any panic?
Taken by surprise, Chunder Singh asked for a few hours' delay to consider and consult his colleagues. The consideration proved favourable to General Elton's scheme. The people of Gumilcund thought that there could be no better time than the present for their rajah's visit to England. The country in the immediate neighbourhood of the city was quiet. The rebellion, though not completely quenched, had received its death-blow in the defeat of Tantia Topee outside Cawnpore. The mutineers still on foot had far too much to do battling with the strong forces set in array against them to think of attacking Gumilcund. The business of the State itself was moving with the regularity of clockwork. Moreover, it was well-known that in the council chambers of the English Parliament momentous questions regarding the future government of India were being mooted. Under such circumstances, it would be advisable that their rajah, whose influence these good people naturally overrated, should be at hand. Let him then depart; let him think for them and scheme for them in England as he had done here; and when the fiery summer had run its course, let him return to the city, as to a home!
So said Chunder Singh, as the mouthpiece of Gumilcund.
When the General and his wife, and brave little Trixy departed, they took with them a promise, that if nothing came about in the meantime to prevent him, Tom would start with them for England in the month of April.