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

up to the wall, but it has gradually been moved farther away. The back of the house looks on to a desert that stretches for miles——"

"Is it a big station?"

"No; it's a small civil station; too small considering that it's the headquarters of a big charge."

"It must be ripping to feel you are ruling, governing all the time! Don't you love power—spelt with a capital P?"

"Who doesn't? But there are definite drawbacks as well as compensations in Indian service."

She sighed. "I shall never see the country; never feel the Indian sun, or smell an Indian bazaar. I shall[Pg 41] never hear a tom-tom or the frogs' chorus in the rains, or even see a snake, except in the Zoo or in a bottle!"

Colonel Crayfield gazed at the child in astonishment. He guessed nothing of the grip that the old letters and memoirs, stored in the lumber room, had on her imagination; he had no conception of the strength of hereditary memory, of the spell bequeathed by a long line of forbears whose lives had been spent in the East, whose hearts and minds and souls had been bound up with India—their mighty relentless mistress. He met, in puzzled silence, the frank gaze of the lovely limpid eyes that stirred his blood, tempting him in all opposition to his reason and foresight; yet, just as his activity in the race to the oak tree had pleased him, flattered his pride in his physical preservation, so did this amorous thrill.

Stella looked away, disconcerted; something in his expression reminded her of his first glance on the platform the previous afternoon; she did not understand it, and it made her vaguely uneasy. She rose, brushing her skirt, uttering hasty little remarks—it was getting late, they ought to go back, breakfast would be ready, look at the sun!

Yes, the sun by now was well up in the sky; a hot summer sun that sucked the dew from foliage and turf, creating a mist, like smoke, dispensing strong perfumes of earth, promising great heat for the day. To the man whose youth lay behind him, it strengthened his ardour, tempting him to take possession of this exquisite child by means of her mania for India, her boredom with her present life and surroundings. Then, suddenly, he remembered that his mission to[Pg 42] The Chestnuts was to administer reproof; to give profitable advice! As they re-started across the common he said abruptly: "You know why I have come to The Chestnuts?"

The girl flushed. "Yes," she said reluctantly; here it was at last, the lecture, the blame, just when she had almost forgotten. It was beastly of her godfather. "Need we talk about it now?"

"We shall have to talk about it some time, I suppose." His tone reassured her; it sounded as if, after all, he was rather more on her side than on that of grandmamma and the aunts. Still she felt suspicious.

"What did you do, exactly?"

"Well, I made eyes at an awful young man when we were out for a walk in the town," she blushed deeper at the recollection; "it was just to see what would happen more than anything else—like pulling a dog's tail. Oh! I can't explain. Nobody will ever understand——"

"And what did happen?"

With difficulty she told him, and awaited his censure. To her astonished relief he said: "Bad luck! You see the wicked don't always prosper!"

"But was I so wicked?" she asked defensively. "A girl I know told me she had done the same kind of thing often; she didn't think it was so dreadful. It seems to me an awful fuss about very little, and I don't know why you should have been bothered, even though you are my godfather. What shall you advise them to do?"

"At present," he said cryptically, "I am not quite sure."

[Pg 43]

She glanced at him half-alarmed. He laughed. "How would you like it if I advised them to send you out to India?"

Stella gasped. "Oh! would you? But how? As a missionary, a companion, a governess—what?"

Again he laughed. "As a companion, perhaps. I'm afraid you would not be much good as a missionary or a governess. What do you think yourself?"

"I shouldn't care. I'd do anything to get to India."

"Well, we shall see. Don't be too hopeful," he looked at his watch. "What time is breakfast?"

"Half-past eight—prayers first."

"Then step out!" Enough had been said for the moment.

"Oh! dear," complained Stella, "what a bother things are; you are as bad as Aunt Augusta about being in time. Why don't you marry Aunt Augusta?"

"She mightn't appreciate India," he said with a grin.

Grandmamma seldom came down to breakfast. Augusta read prayers, fiercely, glaring at her congregation as though to remind them of their unworthiness. Ellen kept her eyes shut and responded with fervent contrition. Neither sister was as yet aware of the guest's early expedition with their niece, and, as Stella made no mention of it during the meal, Colonel Crayfield preserved a discreet silence on the subject. There was a letter for Stella on the breakfast table. The aunts eyed her with suspicion as she read it and then hastily consigned it to her pocket. The[Pg 44] letter was from Maud Verrall; it contained wonderful news:

"My dear, what do you think? I am engaged to be married in spite of all my resolutions not to commit myself in a hurry. No, it is not poor Fred Glossop, who is wild with despair, but a Captain Matthews in the Indian Cavalry. He is a positive picture, if you like; rather in the style of the riding-master I told you about, but much, much handsomer. My people aren't pleased, but that only adds to the excitement. There is nothing they can object to definitely; he has a little money of his own, and isn't badly connected. Of course, they expected me to choose a lord, or a baronet at least; but I am very unworldly. I am awfully happy, and frightfully in love. I am sure I shall enjoy myself hugely in India. Don't you wish you were me?"

Stella groaned over this letter in the privacy of her bedroom. Indeed, how she wished she were Maud!—who was going to India, not as a missionary, or a governess, nor in any other servile capacity; but as the wife of a cavalry officer! Colonel Crayfield was wrong; it was the wicked who prospered. As compared with herself, Maud had certainly been wicked, and now here was Maud rewarded with all that Stella would give her ears to attain. She wept with envy; felt convinced that her godfather had overrated his power to lighten her "lot"; and in any case grandmamma and the aunts would oppose whatever plan he might suggest. She was doomed to grow[Pg 45] old at The Chestnuts; she was never to marry, never to enjoy herself, never to reach India—the Mecca of her dreams. If only that beast Maud had not been going to India! Stella felt bitterly jealous; it was all so cruel, so hopeless....

Reluctant to appear with swollen eyelids, she remained in her room for the rest of the morning; also because she wished to allow her godfather every chance of imparting his advice, however fruitless it might be, to her guardians. She presented herself at luncheon, but the atmosphere seemed unchanged. Evidently nothing had happened, for she was still ignored by her relations, and Colonel Crayfield, purposely, she suspected, though not with unkindly intention, paid small heed to her presence.

After luncheon she was dispatched by Aunt Augusta on household errands.

"I am being got out of the way," said Stella to herself as she set off with a can of soup for old Mrs. Bly, and an order for bacon and rice at the post office—the postal department being a sort of incidental appendage to the only shop of the village; stamps and post cards were also required. Then she was to call for eggs and butter at a farmhouse quite a mile and a half away. She made no haste; the longer the palaver concerning her future, that she hoped was taking place during her absence, the better. The farmer's wife, Mrs. Capper, made her welcome, gave her tea with honey and fresh-baked bread, told her "what a fine growed young lady she was getting"; all of which was pleasant and consolatory for the time being, especially when young Capper came in, [Pg 46]looking quite gentlemanlike in a tweed coat with leather patches on the shoulders, and breeches and gaiters; he betrayed unmistakable admiration for his mother's guest—Stella could hardly prevent him from escorting her home to carry the basket; not that she would have objected to his company, but somebody would be sure to espy them and tell old Betty, and old Betty would tell Aunt Augusta, and it would all be attributed to her own fast and unladylike tendencies, and add to her present disfavour. The risk was not good enough; young Capper would keep till she knew the result of Colonel Crayfield's intercession on her behalf. Despite the little distraction she strolled home listless and depressed.

[Pg 47]

CHAPTER IV

Tea in the drawing-room was over. Mrs. Carrington sat erect, motionless as usual. Augusta and Ellen were pretending to knit; in reality their whole attention was given to Colonel Crayfield, who perambulated about, large and imposing, his hands in his pockets, a disturbance in the old-world atmosphere. Augusta noticed with irritation how he scuffled up the edge of the Persian rug spread in the centre of the room each time he walked over it. Ellen suspected that he wanted to smoke, but she dared not suggest the permission. The Carrington ancestor, gaily indifferent, gazed down at the little conclave that was concerned with the misdeeds of his young descendant.

"It is a difficult question," repeated Colonel Crayfield; he had said the same thing already, several times.

"Would you recommend another school?" asked Augusta. "Some stricter establishment, perhaps, if one could be found, that would receive a girl under the painful circumstances?"

Colonel Crayfield halted beside a table. He picked up a long, narrow scent-bottle, and appeared to examine it closely. Augusta hoped he would not let it fall; the bottle had come from Delhi, was said to have been the property of a Moghul princess, and once to have contained attar of roses.

[Pg 48]

"Well, on the whole, no," he said presently. "We don't want to break the child's spirit."

"Spirit!" echoed old Mrs. Carrington. "She has the evil spirit of her mother, not the spirit of her father's people, which I foolishly imagined might have counteracted failings inherited from the other side."

To Augusta's relief, Colonel Crayfield replaced the precious scent-bottle, and addressed himself to the three ladies. "If you will pardon my plain speaking, I think you are making too much of this—this indiscretion of Stella's. I had a talk with her this morning——"

"This morning?" cried Augusta and Ellen together, and the three pairs of eyes were fixed on him in amazed curiosity.

"Yes; this morning, before breakfast," he confessed calmly, "and my opinion is that Stella meant no harm. She is growing up, is no longer a child, and she needs more outlet. School is hardly the place for her now."

"But what would you suggest?" came faintly from Ellen.

Mrs. Carrington shot a quick glance at him. She was recalling their conversation on the terrace the previous afternoon; he had said, "If I were not a bachelor, and could offer her a chance in India——" Then he had strolled in the garden with Ellen, and had enjoyed Ellen's music after dinner. Was it in his mind to seek the hand and the heart of her younger daughter?

"A plan has occurred to me," he continued, with caution; "but I am not at all sure—in fact, subject[Pg 49] to your permission," he bowed slightly to the trio, "I should prefer to wait a little before saying anything further."

Mrs. Carrington smiled, and at the moment she resembled a hawk more than a sea-gull. With a gracious gesture of assent she rose. "Augusta, my dear," she said suavely, "will you assist me upstairs? I feel rather fatigued. This discussion has been trying, and I think"—again she shot a sharp glance at Colonel Crayfield—"we may leave the solution of our unhappy difficulty with every confidence to our poor dear Charles's old friend."

Augusta dutifully supported her mother from the room; but, to Mrs. Carrington's exasperation, the tiresome Ellen must needs come too, instead of allowing Colonel Crayfield this obvious opportunity of paying his addresses.

Therefore Colonel Crayfield found himself alone in the drawing-room, and he was only too thankful for the relief. Now he could think connectedly. In no way had he committed himself, so far, to any suggestion. Should he ultimately decide that to marry the girl was too serious a step