So, confused, obstinate, she stepped behind the image, slid back the panel, and took out the box. Then, producing a cocoanut sh.e.l.l from the folds of her _sare_, she filled it carefully, methodically, and put back the box carefully, methodically.
This done, she went to the front of the image, smeared the floor once more with blood-red, and began her maiden"s prayer--the prayer that is infallible!
"Om! Om! Kali Ma!-- Dark! Dark! Not a star-- In my Heaven, Kali Ma!--"
This time her voice was high and hard, for had not Mai Kali to be compelled--yea! even by the greatest of sacrifices?
"Thou shalt have it fresh and fresh-- Blood to drink, and lumps of flesh--"
Higher and higher grew the voice; it did not falter at all: not even when at the final
"_Hoom phut_"
the girl, raising her hand on high, dashed the cocoanut she held upon the ground boldly.
There was a faint flash, an instant explosion, a grinding noise as the house rocked to its foundation, then steadied into quiescence.
But Parb.u.t.ti had kept her promise to Mai Kali, and to--_him_; for the G.o.ddess might have satisfied Her craving for Blood, Her desire for Flesh amid the welter of broken stones and twisted grids, of shattered wood-carving and torn Benares _khim-kob_, of jewels rent apart and splintered bones, that was all remaining of Her shrine, Her image, and Her worshipper.
Whether She will keep her part of the bargain is another matter.
But the Maiden"s Prayer has been said, the Greatest of Sacrifices has been made.
SILVER SPEECH AND GOLDEN SILENCE
I SILVER SPEECH
"It is not only the interest of India--now the most considerable part of the British Empire--but the credit and honour of the British nation itself, will be decided by this division. We are to decide by this judgment whether the crimes of individuals are to be turned into public guilt and national ignominy; or whether this nation will convert the very offences which have thrown a transient shade upon its government into something that will reflect a permanent l.u.s.tre upon the honour, justice and humanity of the kingdom! My lords! There is yet another consideration equal to those other two great interests I have stated--those of our Empire, of our national character--something that, if possible, comes more home to the hearts and feelings of every Englishman--I mean the interests of our const.i.tution itself, which is deeply involved in this case."
In the audience, a young man, fair of face, blue of eye, looked up suddenly, then muttered under his breath:
"Hard cheek! What the deuce has he got to do with the British const.i.tution?"
"Do be quiet, Tom!" blushed the girl who sat next him in a whisper; "they"ll hear you."
Tom relapsed into bored silence, and the stream of words went on--
"But the crimes we charge against him are not lapses, defects, errors of common human frailty which, as we know and feel, we can allow for.
There are no crimes that have not arisen from pa.s.sions which it is criminal to harbour, no offences that have not their root in avarice, rapacity, pride, insolence, ferocity, treachery, cruelty, malignity of temper; in short, in nothing that does not argue a total extinction of all moral principle, that does not manifest an inveterate blackness of heart dyed ingrain with malice, vitiated, corrupted, gangrened to the very core."
"Confound his Billingsgate!" murmured Tom Gordon softly. "What good does it do--anybody?"
"H"sh!" came the warning feminine whisper; "his accent is really very good."
Tom shifted uneasily, and once again the strenuous, eager voice, struggling bravely against the harshness of the English language, was the only sound held in the white walls of the Mission School at Ilmpur, a little Punjab town set in a waste of sand. The hot sunshine slanted across it in broad, golden rays from the upper windows, to lay broad, yellow squares on the cool whitewash. Through the doors, set open to the air on all sides, the same hot, yellow sunshine slanted in on the upturned faces of the students, all bent--with elation in their looks--on the prize English speaker, who was declaiming his set speech out of Burke"s famous impeachment of Warren Hastings. Declaiming it before, as the local paper put it, "Mr. Commissioner Gordon and his good lady, Mr. Tom Gordon, a fine young man worthy of his great father who has lately entered India from Eton in quest of police post, the beautiful Miss Gordon, and many others of European renown, including natives of high official positions, who have honoured the Reverends Freemantle and Smith with attendance at their mission-school prizegiving."
They sat in a semicircle on the dais. A quaint company. Mr.
Commissioner Gordon, with a painstakingly pious expression on his grizzly red-bearded face, inwardly rehearsing the speech he would have to make in his turn; his good lady nervously eyeing the gilt books which she would have to give away, spread out on the table before her.
It was covered with a royal red cloth, and on it stood a packed posy of jasmine blossoms and marigolds. The odour of the crushed blossoms mingled with the confused scent of cocoanut oil, roses, and curry powder which is inseparable from every Indian a.s.sembly. On one side of the Commissioner sat the Reverend Freemantle, a gentleman with a beard grown white in the service of education. Mild, placid, benevolent, his face beamed out over his students. They were all doing well, and Gunpat-Rai was simply excelling himself by showing complete mastery over both vowels and consonants. Indeed, in the whole semicircle of eager teachers and approvers upon the platform there was not to be seen a dissentient expression; and one _zenana_-worker positively wept tears of joy, because it was through her dreary daily drudgery amongst fetid alleys and sunless back courts that the prize pupil had originally come to the mission-school.
Otherwise he might have remained as his father had remained all his life, proprietor of an odd little shop right away from all other shops, where they sold matches and oil, flour and earthenware dishes, string and pipe-bowls--everything, in fact, which might suddenly be wanted in the big, high, tenement houses that elbowed and shouldered the little dark lane.
"The law is the security of the people of England! It is the security of the people of India!"
Gunpat-Rai"s voice, overtaxed, almost broke over the climax of Burke"s rhodomontade, but the tumultuous, undisciplined applause which followed, covered the fact, and he sat down feeling dazed, confused. It was the first time he had ever spoken in public, and he had found that he had not been afraid. That, in itself, was disturbing--he had not felt afraid!
Meanwhile, Mr. Commissioner Gordon"s loud voice was bombarding the wall with fitful explosions of words which reverberated amidst an echo of hesitating stutters.
"Gives me great pleasure, unalloyed pleasure to--er--er--er--to--to see Indian youth--er--er--er--taking their place with--with--er--er--er----"
Here a glance at his son--who, after the manner of sons when their fathers are speaking, was burying his face in his hands--seemed to supply the lacking phrase--"with the youth of England."
"Good Heavens!" groaned Tom Gordon aside plaintively; "I say, Nell, how long do you think the Guv"nor will be on his legs, for I"ll slope out, and have a smoke----"
"S--st, Tom!" reproved his sister severely. "You can"t--and you"ve got to play in the cricket match, you know."
Tom groaned again, but less plaintively; and so the speechifying went on, the burden of all being the incalculable advantage of a good sound English education in every walk of life. Did they but choose, every student present--at any rate, students of the stamp of Gunpat-Rai--might "rise to higher things."
So, with a final and formal hand-shake to the lad who had so distinguished himself, the company trooped out into the sunshine and the mission-school lay empty. Only in the place where Gunpat-Rai had sat ere rising to speak, a tiny packet wrapped in silver-leaf betrayed its presence by shining like a star. It was the talisman which his little fifteen-year-old wife had given him that morning ere he started, with tears and laughter, because it was only the first half-chewed, half-sucked piece of dough-cake his firstborn had ever had. It had dropped from his nerveless hand when, in a dire funk, he had stood up in answer to the call of his name.
It did not, however, shine long, for an impudent sparrow soon discovered that it was but dough made silvern, and promptly carried it off.
Meanwhile the cricket match was in full swing, Tom Gordon captaining one side, and the Reverend Mr. Freemantle (who still cherished an old blue cap he had worn in his Oxford days) the other.
Youth, however, had to be allowed for, so the last-comer from Eton found himself, to his great delight, at the head of ten smaller boys--jolly little chaps with bright eyes and boundless obediences--while the big students, including Gunpat-Rai--who was c.o.c.k at cricket as in English, ranged themselves under their master.
They won the toss, and Tom Gordon, as he suppled his hands with the ball, told himself the bowling must be good.
And good it was, especially in style. The tall young figure in white flannels, close clipped about the lean flanks with the light blue belt, reminded one of a flying Mercury as it poised in delivery. Every woman"s eye was on it in admiration. As for the swift b.a.l.l.s it sent, they were a revelation to these Indian boys, who had never seen real cricket. They crumpled up before them like agitated spiders when they came off the wicket, and when they came on it, they looked helplessly at the umpire to see if they were really out. The Reverend Mr.
Freemantle made a good stand, the memory of many a past day coming back to give half-forgotten skill to his bat, his sheer delight in his youthful adversary"s prowess making him bold. Still the score stood ominously at one figure when Gunpat-Rai took his place. Tom Gordon hitched up his belt and looked.
"I should say leg before," he muttered, "but they"re so thin, they hardly count."
And then he let drive.
Now, whether the ball chose to hit Gunpat-Rai"s bat or Gunpat-Rai"s bat chose to hit the ball, is immaterial. Away it went beyond the boundary, and Gunpat-Rai"s long legs scored four. A sharp, hissing roar of delight rose from the a.s.sembled school, and Tom Gordon frowned faintly; but he was far too good-humoured to withstand what followed. Heartened up by his absolutely unlooked-for success, Gunpat-Rai who, though his legs were thin, was a powerful enough young fellow, did everything and more than everything that could be expected of him. He gambolled out and slogged wildly, he pirouetted like a teetotum and nearly killed his wicket-keep, and finally let drive at his partner"s wicket, demolishing all three stumps.
"Out!" cried the umpire ruefully, but with commendable impartiality, and when Tom Gordon had sufficiently recovered from his laughter to a.s.sert that no one but the stumps had suffered, another hissing roar of applause rose from the school.