A Bottle in the Smoke Part 19

Hester tried hard to conceal the disappointment she felt at having to wear the ostentatious jewel, but she saw it was inevitable, though the ayah, on the pretext of arranging the folds of her dress, whispered to her: "Missus wear cross--that plentee luckee jewel!"

The change, however, was effected, though Hester averted her eyes from the mirror that she might not behold herself in the resplendent gem, though she felt somewhat rewarded for her self-sacrifice by her husband's gratification.

The long elaborate dinner seemed to drag endlessly, and it was apparent to Hester that one or two of the guests looked bored. After the ladies returned to the drawing-room, the "rankest" lady, whom the host had taken into dinner, said to her with a p.r.o.nounced yawn:

"I didn't like to ask your husband--but my dear Mrs. Rayner, what became of the Collector of Puranapore? I understood he was to be your guest this evening?"

"Oh, that was only a peradventure, Mrs. Grace. Mr. Worsley only arrived in Madras to-day, and was engaged for this evening."

"Then he declined your invitation?" asked Mrs. Grace sharply. "And his a.s.sistant, did he also decline? I thought we were to have the pleasure of meeting both. In fact, Mr. Rayner told my husband so some time ago."

She was about to add: "And but for that expectation we would have also declined the invitation." But even the Mrs. Graces of Anglo-Indian society have bounds which they cannot pa.s.s.

Observing the flush that rose to her hostess's face, she changed the topic, though on her drive home she did not fail to remark to her husband:

"That favourite of yours has s.h.i.+fty eyes, my dear. I don't like the man, and he lured us to that dull party on false pretences. I discovered that neither Mr. Worsley nor his Sub. had accepted the invitation to the party--found it out from Mrs. Rayner. Sorry for her, poor thing! She seems a lady, didn't even try to explain away her husband's snaring of us, though I saw she felt it. And what an extravagant dinner! Why, those flowers must have cost a fortune! And the things all came from D'Angelis, I recognised his dishes."

"First-rate wine," remarked Mr. Grace in a plethoric voice. "Wish I could afford such good stuff! Rayner must be a rich man. That feast anyhow must have cost a mint of money!"

"And did you see his wife's diamonds too? A new acquisition evidently--never saw them before. A little gold cross was all the girl ever wore. I expect he was bullied into that expensive gift, or perhaps she got it from some admirer."

"What cats you women are! Don't believe that girl could bully anybody though she tried. To my mind she's the most ladylike girl about just now. I felt sorry for her to-night. Her face had a sad look when she wasn't trying to talk to that dull fellow who took her in. I don't know where Rayner picked him up. I suppose he was asked to fill the Collector's place."

The conjugal remarks as the relays of carriages swept out of the Rayner's compound bore a strong resemblance to each other. The host and hostess were also keenly aware that the elaborate dinner-party had been less successful than any of its predecessors, though that knowledge affected them differently.

"I close my cheque book to dinners of that sort in future," said Mr.

Rayner with a snarl, as he flung himself on a lounging chair in the verandah and betook himself to a cheroot. "Ungrateful pack, one and all!

They only came to eat D'Angelis' excellent _pate de foie gras_ and toss down my magnums of the best champagne. Shan't get the chance again!"

Hester expressed herself by no means sorry to hear her husband register this vow, and added musingly:

"Small dinner parties can be delightful. You remember when we dined at Mrs. Fellowes' there were only eight of us in all. And how bright the talk was, and how prettily Mrs. Fellowes had decorated the table with those simple tendrils from her own hedge, and how beautifully those silver tankards shone--the Colonel's sporting trophies, his own and his father's, who had been in the same regiment. He told me so many interesting things about the Native Infantry that evening. And then those pretty old English ballads Mrs. Fellowes sang were delightful."

"Well, Hester, I'm sure you might have given us a song to-night! It would have made a variety. Why didn't you?"

"Because you said last time we had a dinner-party that n.o.body was to be asked to sing--that music seemed a disturbing element to the lords of creation over their wine--so I forbore. Or, rather, I should say, it was never suggested. I shouldn't think Mrs. Grace cared for music. But I'll give you a Christmas carol now before we go to bed if you like. It will chase away the gaudy note of our last big dinner-party. Oh, I'm so glad, Alfred, you've made up your mind not to have any more of those 'meetings of debtors and creditors,' as someone calls them," said Hester more cheerfully, as she went to the piano and pondered which of the old carols she would choose for this Christmas Eve, deciding that nothing could be more welcome than the hymn which calls us to "lay aside our crus.h.i.+ng load and hear the angels sing."

Hester lingered for some time at the piano singing old favourites. When she rose from it, the little cloud which had been resting on her seemed overlaid by the spirit of peace. She felt vexed as she drew near her husband's chair that there was no response to the gladsome words. He sat staring gloomily into the darkness, and she did not venture to disturb him.

Next morning Hester was astir even earlier than usual. She had prepared little Christmas presents for each of the numerous servants, and enjoyed their evident gratified reception of them. Her ayah and Rosie were soon resplendent in her gift of new sarees. Even the _malis_ were not forgotten, and deposited their big red watering-chattees in front of the house while they made salaams to the Dosani in return for their new turbans.

Mr. Rayner had been employing his early Christmas morning by making a big bonfire of old papers outside the verandah of his writing-room, coaxing the flames in the still air with a palm leaf. While so engaged a telegram was handed to him.

"Horrid news from Palaveram, Hester," he called to his wife. "Young Hyde shot himself last night after mess--just as I was trying to extricate him from his troubles. They've asked me to go out to arrange matters.

Great nuisance! I meant to spend the day peacefully lounging about the verandah and smoking cheroots."

"Young Hyde dead by his own hand! Oh, poor boy, how dreadfully sad!"

exclaimed Hester in horror, mourning another "rashly importunate gone to his death" in that long sad procession of broken lives.

Mr. Rayner left after breakfast, and Hester felt glad she could respond to the chimes of the Cathedral, which were ringing for wors.h.i.+p on this Christmas morning. They seemed to have a special note for her saddened heart, telling of the wideness of G.o.d's mercy--like that fair, illimitable ocean in its s.h.i.+ning peace which swept round these sh.o.r.es, and of which she could catch glimpses as she took her solitary drive to church to find strength and hope in the all-embracing symbols of Infinite Love.

She returned home soothed and helped by the familiar service which seemed to forge a link between the little village church at home and the n.o.ble Cathedral beneath the waving Indian palms.

CHAPTER XX.

Mr. Rayner had promised to return from Palaveram in time for dinner, but long, solitary hours till dusk still stretched before Hester on her return from morning service. She had not as yet yielded to the habit of taking a siesta, though she was a.s.sured that when the hot weather came she would find the need of it imperative. She sought instead companions.h.i.+p in her piano, rehearsing some of her old favourites, and then turned to a prettily bound volume of hymns set to music, which had been a wedding present from a Wesleyan friend. She tried over some of the airs, and coming on one which attracted her began to sing the words.

Her sweet voice, which was so much missed in the ivy-mantled village church, vibrated melodiously through the verandah. So absorbed was she in her solace of song that she did not hear the arrival of a carriage on the gravel-sweep. Its occupant indeed stood at her elbow, silently looking down at her as her fingers strayed along the keys, before she was aware of his presence.

"Mark Cheveril!" she exclaimed at length, looking up with joy in her face. "This is a happy surprise!"

"It is so for me, anyhow. I wanted to have come earlier in the day to wish you a merry Christmas, but the Collector seemed dull, and I couldn't leave him. But better late than never. And to be greeted by the sound of your voice was good," he added, glancing at the slender, girlish figure on the music stool on which she had wheeled round to greet him in her surprise at his presence. "This will make a delightful paragraph in the letter to your mother I mean to date 'Christmas Day, Madras.' But I must really tell you before we pa.s.s on to other things a strange coincidence about this very hymn you were singing. You remember Mr. Morpeth whom we met at Mrs. Fellowes' that morning? I felt so drawn to him that I did what I don't think I ever confessed to you--I sought him out. When I stepped into his verandah I found him alone, and singing that very hymn." Mark hummed some of the lines--

"Light of those whose dreary dwellings Borders on the shades of death."

"It has haunted me ever since. I must tell him of this coincidence. I have been corresponding with him, and mean to keep up the acquaintance.

I heard from him that you had found your way to Vepery too, Hester, and are doing wonders there."

"Ah, that reminds me, Mark! A little bird told me only yesterday that you were the kind donor of our lovely piano for the girls' club. You can't think what a boon it is."

"I hope it's a decent one. I fear pianos are rather a lottery out here, and it would have lost a whole season to have ordered one from home."

"It has a beautiful tone, Mrs. Fellowes just loves it. It was a good thought of yours, Mark. How pleased mother will be when she hears you were the giver of the piano I told her about! I'm so glad Mrs. Fellowes wormed the secret out of Mr. Morpeth. Do you know I've never seen him since you left? He seems to elude me still--perhaps it's no wonder."

Hester lowered her eyes, for she suddenly recalled her husband's reception of him, which she feared Mark must have overheard. "But notwithstanding," she said with a smile, "I don't think he does bear me a grudge, for Mrs. Fellowes told me he seemed pleased to hear I wished to go to see him with her. She says his house is full of interesting things."

"It is," returned Mark cordially. "But the man--his personality, his talk--is the most interesting of all. Truly fate has been very good to me since I came to the East. In my first week I met two of the best men I've ever known, David Morpeth and Felix Worsley. To be sure, they are very unlike--as far as the poles asunder in almost everything. The one seemed to me a wise, patient saint, while the Collector is the most impatient of men. I fear, too, he would say I was defaming the name if I was to dub him 'a saint,' yet there is about him the beauty of real dominant goodness. For instance, people say he is proud and all that--well, I find him full of the most winning humility."

"Why, I've always pictured Mr. Worsley as a most terrifying person from the stray remarks I've heard about him. Surely you idealise him, Mark, and see in him the reflection of your own good self. I think that's how Charlie would interpret your feelings."

"Ah, I see I shan't win you over to my hero till you see him."

"With your eyes?" said Hester, with an arch smile.

"No, with your own, if I mistake not! I only wish I could bring about a meeting. But I confess my hero is somewhat incorrigible. Nothing will induce him to face a fas.h.i.+onable dinner-party, and that reminds me, Hester, I must tell you how sorry I was not to be with you last night and not to bring the Collector--but he simply wouldn't hear of going to a dinner-party."

"Yes, Alfred was disappointed. He said he was once introduced to Mr.

Worsley, and seemed to set his heart on having him as his guest," said Hester simply.

Mark felt a sharp twinge of self-reproach, for had not the truth been that the Collector had rejected the invitation stormily, saying he "declined to dine with Zynool's partner"? As Mark recalled it he feared that some of the borrowed stigma might also attach itself to this sweet friend in Mr. Worsley's mind--until they met, at least. When that hour struck, he felt confident that all would be well. As he glanced at Hester, he perceived that there was a subtle change in his old comrade.

Her beauty had strengthened and deepened. There was a new air of tender grace in all her movements; but she was paler and thinner, the plump, girlish contour had vanished. The features, more delicately pencilled than heretofore, seemed written over with a bit of life-history not free from fret and jar, even blurred by patient tears. How could it be otherwise, he asked himself, with this high-souled girl exposed to the daily companions.h.i.+p of a nature so vain, so shallow, and he feared, so false, as he was reluctantly discovering Alfred Rayner to be? He recalled with fresh anxiety his s.h.i.+fty air when he had met him at Puranapore during his mysterious visit to the unprincipled Zynool. But happy chance had thrown Hester and him together on this Day of Glad Tidings. He must do all in his power to bring some pure, healthful pleasure into those few days on which he would be near her.

"By the way," he said, as he rose to take a cup of tea from Hester's hand, "I mustn't forget that one of the chief objects of my call to-day is to ask you to ride with me one morning. Some of the roads here are capital."

"Oh, that would be delightful--just like old times," said Hester brightening. "I haven't ridden since I came here. Alfred doesn't like riding, though he is so devoted to driving. Even when he was at the Rectory after our engagement, which you know was very short, he wouldn't go out with Charlie and me. Charlie thought he was really timid, and told me not to urge him. He won't mind my riding--at least I don't think so," she added, a shadow crossing her face not unnoticed by her visitor.

"But he'll be here presently, and we'll ask him. You'll stay to dinner and see him, won't you?"

"With pleasure. I'm quite free this evening and we'll arrange this one ride anyhow. I've seen a perfect horse for you at Wallers'. I shall bring it round to-morrow morning. What do you say to going to St.