There was a fearful fascination in rousing him, and she took the risk of his anger for the pure pleasure of seeing him come up to the fighting line. The eyes that met hers shone with the light of battle, and she inwardly trembled at the spirit she had wantonly raised.
"Am I sure, you ask?" he cried derisively. "If you knew what Hinduism meant you would never put such a question to a man of my profession. You cannot realise how encrusted it is with insidious error appealing mischievously to the sensual part of humanity. You know nothing of the practices at the worship of Kali—of the life led by the dasis in the temples of Southern India——" he stopped abruptly, conscious of having been led in his excitement and enthusiasm a little too far. It was impossible to pursue such an unsavoury subject with an English woman.
"I don't know much about the worship of Kali; and I am sure that I never heard the word dasi before. What is a dasi?"
"Oh! never mind," he exclaimed, the fire subdued. "Please give me another cup of tea, and I will tell you about Ananda. Perhaps when you hear what has driven him out of the faith of his ancestors, you will be able to sympathise."
He explained the theory of transmigration, and how Ananda had revolted against it on the loss of his friend; how he put himself under instruction in England and took the step voluntarily and without pressure. From the story of his conversion he passed on to the description of all that had followed since Ananda arrived in India.
"The man is being persecuted in all kinds of ways. They have supplied him with food, but they have employed an out-caste sweeper to carry it to him. The prejudice of fifty generations is not to be conquered all at once, and Ananda cannot bring himself to receive his food at the hands of a man whom he holds more unclean than we should consider an unwashed workman who had just emptied a sewer."
"How has he been existing?"
"On biscuits and milk, a poor diet for a healthy hungry man. It has kept him from starvation however. Your brother did wisely in sending for me after receiving Ananda's letter. He needs advice and support, and he will require help of another kind when the small amount of cash in his pocket is finished."
"I suppose you talked to him—and prayed with him?" said Eola, conscious of the banality of her words even as she spoke them.
"Dear lady! does a man stop to fall on his knees when he sees a comrade drowning? You will think me a poor sort of missionary, perhaps, when I confess that I forgot to pray with him. I was too busy chucking life-belts to the poor chap. Already he was assailed with doubts as to the wisdom of the step he had taken. 'I have been too hasty,' he said. 'I did not consider how seriously it would affect my father's peace of mind and his health.' Then he drew a picture of the old man's feeble appearance as he came to him two or three mornings ago in the compound. 'He was so bowed and bent he might have been seventy instead of fifty.' It gave him a shock, and he seems to have entertained a suggestion made by his father which was nothing less than the contemplation of partial apostacy. I fought against the weakness. I preached free-will and choice. I appealed to his honesty and combated the cowardice that prompted retrogression. He admitted that he could never again accept the Hindu doctrine of transmigration. Then I pointed out the responsibility that falls on a man's shoulders when his eyes are opened and the choice of road lies with him. I dug away and rooted about to find a little courage. He has more obstinacy than courage at present. I hope that the one will breed the other."