Star of India by Alice Perrin (new reading .TXT) 📖

make for a man whose life was all action; ready for emergencies and discomforts, willing to rough it, daring, unafraid. She ought to marry a colonial, go with him to Canada, Australia, his equal in physical endurance, and disregard of convention, yet mastered by his manhood, the mother of a string of strong children whether they could be educated highly or not! An unworthy temptation assailed him; as they arrived at an outstanding relief camp he helped her from her saddle with a bold tenderness that held an element[Pg 202] of revenge, held her hand a little longer than was strictly necessary, looked into her fine grey eyes, of purpose intently. He could not tell if she recognised the unspoken signal; if she did she ignored it, and presently they were deep in the object of their expedition, tramping over hot, hard ground, watching the slow movements of the ragged crowd—women and children breaking up dry clumps of soil, carrying it on their heads in baskets; men and boys digging, scraping. It was like an ants' nest without the energy and diligence of those insects, for the workers were weak and apathetic, only looking forward, as was natural, to the distribution of food and money that was to follow.

Flint was on the look out for bullying among the overseers, for petty pilfering on the part of the distributors of supplies; he listened patiently to complaints, investigated grievances, and entirely forgot Miss Baker except when she asked questions or got in his way. She followed him for the most part silently, unobtrusively, and the morning was well advanced before it suddenly struck him that his companion must be feeling the need of refreshment. They were a long way from headquarters, far from any place of accommodation; the sun was overpowering; he noted that she looked tired and hot, he himself felt fagged. His inspection was not yet completed. Never mind, he could return this evening and finish it at the price of a little extra pressure and exertion.

He took out his watch. "Look here," he said penitently, "you must be pretty well done. Let us[Pg 203] get back as quick as we can and have a good breakfast in my camp."

She hesitated; if he could have seen into her mind she was thinking of the kind of meal she might expect on her return to Miss Abigail's tents (boiled rice and pulse, and perhaps a stew that had seen service already). She was despising herself because the temptation was strong to accept the invitation, and not altogether on account of the better fare.

"Wouldn't it be proper for you to breakfast with me alone?" he asked provocatively.

"I wasn't thinking of that!" she exclaimed with scorn, and added, not quite honestly: "I was only wondering if Miss Abigail would be keeping breakfast waiting for me——" She knew perfectly well that Miss Abigail would not.

"She knows you are with me, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes——"

"Then why worry? Come along."

On their way back she asked him: "You do this kind of thing every day?"

"Certainly. It's my job."

"But you are paid for it," she remarked vindictively.

"One must live, though perhaps in my case you don't see the necessity. Anyway I get no extra pay, so it's not for pure love of gain!"

"How do you mean? Weren't you ordered to do the work?"

"As it happens, no. I volunteered."

"Then where would you have been if you hadn't?"

[Pg 204]

"At Simla perhaps, or somewhere away from the famine area in my own province."

"Then you don't belong to this part?"

"No, I've been lent."

"At your own request?"

"Haven't I just said so?"

For a space she was silent. Then she said grudgingly: "After all, it's nothing so very wonderful!"

"I quite agree. I lay no claim to doing anything wonderful. Now you, on the other hand, have left a comfortable home and quite a different kind of life at, I am sure, an enormous sacrifice, to come out and help India!"

She winced obviously, and he enjoyed her discomfiture; yet his conscience smote him, for he queried inwardly if he would have been here at all but for the fateful happenings at Rassih! At the same time he did not intend to enlighten Miss Baker on that point. For the sake of other Englishmen who had given their services in this terrible affliction without reserve, better let her believe that he had been actuated solely by a stern sense of duty. The result of his work was the same, he had foregone advancement, was out of the running, over-working himself without hope of reward in the future. If he were not on the spot someone else would be; the whole thing was general, not individual. England was doing her duty by India comprehensively, he was but a fly on the wheel, and he neither desired nor expected special recognition. But he felt entitled to exact just approbation, on these grounds, from[Pg 205] this arrogant girl who, in her way, represented a certain section of public opinion at home.

Save for a few desultory remarks on the scenery she said little more as they urged their horses onward, but he noted a new diffidence in her attitude; she was less aggressive, a little softer, and despite his contempt for her outlook on Indian affairs he could not forbear to take advantage of her weakening. He talked seriously, earnestly, of the problems and peoples of the country, set forth their helpless dependence on disinterested rule, defended British enterprise; and to his satisfaction she listened. Through it all he watched her clever, expressive face; how she showed her feelings!—an undisciplined nature. One moment he saw hesitation, doubt of her own judgment; the next incredulity, impatience of his arguments; again a little light of enthusiasm in her eyes, albeit reluctant, as he spoke of the long line of heroes who had made India what she was—prosperous, peaceful, secure, in so far as such a vast and complex country could be secure, unless danger was fostered from within.... She had a good heart if her brain was ill-trained, falsely developed; he wondered what her childhood had been like, how she had been brought up, and later, as they were seated at breakfast in his tent, he asked her if she had ever been at school.

"Oh, yes, the ordinary thing, a rotten place at Brighton—all music and French and dancing. You see, we are very rich people! My father is a big manufacturer, he began life with the proverbial half-crown in his pocket. We are not blue-blooded[Pg 206] at all, I can assure you! My mother was the daughter of a small artisan. To the day of her death, a few years ago, she hated late dinner, and was afraid of the servants. I firmly believe she died, poor dear, because she had to live in an atmosphere that was too much for her. She couldn't stand the strain when my father bought a place in the country and a house in London, and she was obliged to entertain and meet people she had never been accustomed to. She was a victim to the intermediate stage. In time, of course, all the big places will be in the hands of go-ahead men like the pater who have made their own fortunes, and the idle rich will disappear."

"What about the descendants of the go-ahead men?" put in Philip. "Have you any brothers?"

"Yes, two——"

"And are they working for their livings?"

"Well," she moved uneasily, "one is in the Guards and the other is still at Oxford——"

"And you were sent to an expensive school for young ladies at Brighton? In a few generations, I suppose, you will be ousted from your big place in your turn!"

"But we know how to take care of our money. It won't be squandered in racing and cards and dissolute living."

"How do you know? Doesn't it depend on the individual? There are plenty of pedigree landlords who are models of stewardship and right thinking, doing their duty by the country and their responsibilities, just as there are self-made men who are[Pg 207] selfish and hard and tyrannical. It isn't entirely a question of birth and heredity. I am of opinion that if a man with an inherited position and property is false to his trust he should be deprived of it by law, but when he does his best he should be protected from attacks that are prompted more often by jealousy than by concern for the poor. What do the majority of self-made men go for, once they are 'made'? Titles and 'places.' Isn't it true?"

The girl crumbled the toast on her plate with restless fingers. "Everything is all wrong," she burst out presently. "My father won't see that we ought to keep only just enough for ourselves and share the rest with the people who have helped him to make his money. Why should we have an estate in the country and a sort of palace in London, while our workmen are living in slums! It's abominable. I admit we are as bad in our way as the families that can trace their descent for hundreds of years and look upon their lands and their tenants as just mediums of supply for their luxuries and amusements. It will always be the same, I suppose!"

"It has been the same since the beginning of the world," said Flint, "each man for himself. It's human nature. Have some more coffee?"

"Yes, please. It's delicious. Miss Abigail seems to think it's wrong to have decent food. Why she and her kind aren't all dead from poisoning I can't imagine."

"The survival of the fittest, perhaps."

"Their hearts and their souls are bound up in the work, and their stomachs don't seem to matter.[Pg 208] I feel I am horribly material and greedy. Perhaps I haven't a soul or a heart, only a stomach!"

"In that case you wouldn't be out here," he suggested for her comfort, "giving your time and your money in a good cause."

"I don't want to take credit for that. I am beginning to see that I may have come out with a mistaken motive, not so much to do my little bit over the famine as to find fault with what seemed to me an autocratic mode of government. If all Indian officials were like you——"

"Like me!" Philip gave a bitter little laugh. "I may also have had my motive in doing famine work apart from the welfare of the people. We are all actuated by motives, principally selfish and private."

She finished her coffee. "Anyway," she said, rising, "I am glad we have met, though you have upset my ideas and made me feel horrid when I thought I was such an angel of mercy and reform! I am afraid I am very conceited, but it is so nice to feel superior and generous!"

He saw tears in her eyes, and he took her outstretched hand in true comradeship, ashamed of his attempt that morning to play upon her natural instincts. "Don't bother about motives," he said in friendly understanding, "go on with your blessed work. We are all doing what we can for the people of this great old country, and believe me they aren't insensible to our efforts. They know in their hearts. Some day they will stand by us and give all they can in recognition of what we have done in the past for[Pg 209] them. The test is bound to come, and whoever gets the credit doesn't matter. The result will be our reward. The only fear is that all the drudgery and the sacrifice may be undone, go for nothing, wrecked by a clique composed of self-seekers, encouraged by those who have quite other ends to gain."

They left the tent together. He helped her into her saddle, and watched her ride off attended by the syce who would bring back the chestnut; the Honourable Dorothy Baker—born of the people, reared as an aristocrat, who had set out to patronise those among whom such an anomaly was impossible, unthinkable! How invaluable might be the zeal of her kind rightly inspired and directed in the cause of India, could they only divest themselves of the very arrogance they were so anxious to impute to the men who were guarding the safety of the brightest jewel in the crown of England....

For the next few hours Flint buried himself in papers. The heat and the dust and the flies were distracting; he found it hard to fix his mind on his work, and his thoughts wandered perversely. He remembered he had not yet written his weekly letter to his mother; it had been so difficult to write naturally after the upheaval at Rassih, he had felt such a hypocrite—allowing his parents to infer that in volunteering for famine work he had