OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
OUTCASTS OF 
 THE EAST 
 
 BY 
 
 FLORENCE M. BAILEY 
 
 LONDON 
 
 EVELEIGH NASH 
 1905 
 
?R 
 
 6003 
 
 TO HIMSELF 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 If I have in this ojf ended any living, 
 forgive me the dead will, I know, 
 forgive. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Chaffer Pa?' 
 
 I. SHADOWS . ... .13 
 
 II. THE MAN WHO HAD NOT SOWN . . 23 
 
 III. A DEAL. ...... 38 
 
 IV. THE GREAT FACTOR . . . . 50 
 V. THE FEET ON THE STAIR ... 60 
 
 VI. A RESPITE ...... 70 
 
 VII. THE CURSE OF COLOUR .... 79 
 
 VIII. A WAY SET OUT OF HELL'S MOUTH . 90 
 
 IX. THE COMING OF HOPE . . . . 101 
 
 X. THE GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD . 108 
 
 XI. ON THE INSIDE EDGE . . . . 117 
 
 XII. HOPE'S SHADOW FEAR . . . .12$ 
 
 XIII. THE FULL MIXTURE . , . . 135 
 
 XIV. AT THE GATE OF LIFE-IN-DEATH . . 155 
 XV. LAD'S LOVE . . . . , . 168 
 
 XVI. WHITE WINS . . . . , 180 
 II 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 Chapter P"ge 
 
 XVII. THROUGH THB GATE OF TEARS . . 191 
 
 XVIII. THE WAY OF THE CROSS .... 207 
 
 XIX. THE LOWER DEPTH . . . . 219 
 
 XX. THE FINDING OF THE PATH . . .234. 
 
 XXI. GOD'S PAYMENT . . . . .250 
 
 12 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 SHADOWS 
 
 " She had a mouth made to bring death 
 
 to life. . . . 
 Her face was ever pale, as when one 
 
 stoops 
 Over wan water ; and the dark crisped 
 
 hair 
 
 And the hair's shadow made it paler 
 still." Rossetti. 
 
 A WORLD of flat roof-tops, with here and 
 there a more ambitious cupola ; some of the 
 roofs crowded with rickety bamboo lean-tos, 
 showing that the owner of the building had a 
 thrifty mind, and encouraged the sub-letting 
 principle to a degree equivalent to the roofs 
 pressure-capacity. Between the close-packed 
 roofs a single pepal-tree stretched up, not a 
 leaf stirring against the hot air ; far out, on 
 the sky-line, was a tall gold mohur, to con- 
 vince the dwellers on the house-tops that 
 they were indeed in the gorgeous East, 
 although the street below had slum stamped 
 
 13 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 upon it from end to end. Not even a main slum 
 such as will bear thick crowds surging up and 
 down it from dawn to dark, and where globe- 
 trotting Europeans carefully venture for 
 " experiences," feeling quite in touch with 
 native life and possessed of wide knowledge of 
 things Indian by the time they have emerged 
 from the bazar. Dhuki's Gully, as it was 
 familiarly termed Dhukuria Lane, if one 
 were a stranger in the bazar or wished to be 
 precise laid no claim to be one of Calcutta's 
 main slums : it had perhaps a more generous 
 supply of garbage strewn within its narrow 
 limits than the wider streets had, which 
 caused its only consequent distinction in the 
 bazar as a feeding-ground for pariahs. 
 
 The reek of the said things was evident : 
 the long hours of a fierce April sun had done 
 their elementary sanitary work in the way of 
 burning up the day's vileness, but the night 
 was close, ready to undo the work and add 
 unto the reek by seven times seven. A very 
 varied smell of evening cooking floated in 
 the lane, having as a common denominator 
 the ever-abiding ghee ; later, when darkness 
 had replaced the curious and unearthly grey- 
 ness which in the East does duty for twilight, 
 
 14 
 
SHADOWS 
 
 there would be the odour of smoking added 
 to the present aroma of warm paraffin and 
 charcoal fires. As yet, however, the sundry 
 lords and masters for whom the evening meal 
 preparations were going forward had still work 
 to perform before the legal ending of their 
 day. For Dhuki's Gully was a far way from 
 Park Street* had, in fact, not the remotest 
 connection therewith, save that both were 
 included, geographically, in the same city. 
 It had the honour of being at an angle, two 
 sides whereof were filled by the ranks of the 
 damned or, in polite Blue Book language, 
 lower-class Eurasians while the other was 
 occupied by the dwelling-houses of lower 
 middle-class natives, whose residential world 
 began where the Eurasians' left off. A few 
 shops, of an order somewhat akin to a marine 
 store dealer's in England, occupied ground 
 floors, literally, in the gully. On the corner, 
 over a building somewhat larger than the 
 others, there hung a sign that struck one as 
 curious even in that jumble of breed and 
 colour which marked the bazar : " Pierre 
 Michel Tailor." Above the name, and 
 
 * One of the chief residential streets of 
 Calcutta, 
 
 1$ 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 more quickly visible, a row of darzis were 
 hunched together stitching at a pile of would- 
 be Western garments, mainly white linens and 
 sloppy flannels ; or rather, they had been 
 sewing until the greyness drew over the sky, 
 and the flocks of crows rose screaming to 
 proclaim the ending of another day. Then, 
 still in a row, they were down on their faces, 
 work and the Western master alike swept 
 from their minds by the necessity of testifying 
 to the greatness of Allah. A man coming 
 suddenly on to the roof from the winding stone 
 stair and seeing them thus, gave a shrug of 
 the shoulders which took from him, at least, 
 any reproach of half-caste ; but he waited in 
 patience until the end of their devotions, 
 having been in the East some thirty years. As 
 he leant against the broken coping which was 
 all that the house-top boasted by way of balus- 
 trade, gazing in indifference that was too 
 Eastern tobecomeimpatience at the rhythmical 
 rise and fall of the darzis, he seemed to bring 
 a curious sense of inappropriateness ; not in 
 himself precisely, certainly not in his clothing, 
 which was what any other "poor white" 
 might wear, but in a poise of the head, a look 
 of the eyes, a careless dignity of movement 
 
 16 
 
SHADOWS 
 
 the sort of ways one might, without sur- 
 prise, find at the Bengal Club, but hardly in 
 a man living among half- and quarter-breeds 
 in Dhuki's Gully. But apart from the name 
 on the shop's signboard he would hardly have 
 been taken for French ; he was tall, thin, 
 lithe, with youth still on his face in spite of 
 his fifty-two years, after the manner of many 
 men in the East. Also he was handsome, 
 the clear-cut features showing a descent direct 
 and clean-run, which was unusual in Dhuki's 
 Gully. 
 
 As he waited for the ending of his darzis' 
 devotions, with an impassiveness as Eastern 
 as their own, his eyes wandered persistently 
 to an adjacent roof to the left one with 
 bamboo lean-to's occupying part of its narrow 
 space, and other visible signs of its drop, 
 socially, from even his own house-top. But 
 some branches of the lone penpal tree fell 
 across it, and the shade gave it a distinction 
 in that region of bare roof-tops, where the 
 flaky grey-white houses had mostly been 
 burnt brown in the glare, and the very lizards 
 that crawled along the coping looked breath- 
 less. 
 
 As he gazed, a girl came on to the opposite 
 17 B 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 roof in England she would have been a 
 child, but in the East fruit ripens quickly. 
 Seen in the shadowy light, which toned down 
 the crudities of her dress and the sordidness 
 of her surroundings, she showed as near per- 
 fection as any girl might. The glorious oval 
 face with its great eyes and setting of cloudy 
 hair gave the impression of a visible Madonna 
 not an Italian Madonna of the old school, 
 who were mostly sleek and comfortable types, 
 but a modern one, where the shadow of im- 
 pending tragedy is shown and one can feel 
 the human side of it. The sadness lay only 
 on her eyes, though ; as she caught sight of 
 Pierre Michel a light rippled across their 
 depth, caught the corners of her perfect lips, 
 and, while never forming into a smile, lit up 
 the face with a rapt gladness that was almost 
 bridal in its intensity. One sees the look 
 sometimes in the early days of marriage ; and 
 never afterwards in most cases. Michel an- 
 swered the look with a smile and a hand-wave, 
 then turned to inspect his men's work. But 
 his mind, if not his eyes, evidently wandered 
 still to the other roof; he looked at seams 
 absently, and gave directions for next day's 
 work mechanically, busy with a problem more 
 
 18 
 
SHADOWS 
 
 difficult than the fitting of a babu's "English" 
 coat or the trousers of Mr. Gonsalez. When 
 the men were gone, and he was free to spend 
 the darkness with his own thoughts, he lit a 
 cheroot, and leaning over the edge of the 
 roof, watched the girl, who was sitting, her 
 face away from him, evidently speaking to a 
 passer-by in the street below. 
 
 He did not hear the light fall of bare feet 
 behind him, nor the owner of the feet, his 
 coat-cutter, slide before him. The man's 
 voice, querying as to a length of black alpaca 
 which could not be found, partly roused him, 
 but he answered briefly, dropping back into 
 his own thoughts the next moment. 
 
 The darzi turned to go, then leaned over 
 the parapet also, peering through the dark- 
 ness towards the opposite roof. He had 
 spent the previous night on a balconied house 
 of a Radha Bazar side alley until the dawn 
 and beyond it and doubtless there was some 
 of its madness left in his blood. 
 
 ' ' Lo, the fruit ripens mayhap it is already 
 ripe," he said, nodding towards the other 
 roof, " best gather it before others reach forth 
 their hands, my master." 
 
 Michel was on his feet before half the 
 
 '9 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 words were spoken, his abstraction gone, his 
 face quivering ; one noticed a curious quick 
 movement of his hand to his side, that be- 
 trayed the fact that once this man was one 
 who owned a sword. 
 
 " Thou pig," he broke out fiercely. 
 
 Lalhan the darzi gave that twist of the 
 body which is the Eastern equivalent to a 
 shrug ; his caste-dignity was elastic almost to 
 vanishing point when there was any question 
 of the desirable rupee, and could overlook 
 such casual slurs on his ancestry. 
 
 " I am indeed no pig, but a well-wisher 
 who would not see the baba delivered unto 
 one who is truly a pig and the son of pigs," 
 he answered, looking keenly at Michel as he 
 calculated how much he might make out of 
 his information. 
 
 Pierre, for all his thirty years of life among 
 these things, had yet a momentary desire to 
 pitch Lalhan over the coping ; then he asked 
 briefly : 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " How much ? " asked the other as 
 curtly. 
 
 " One does not put a chudder round the 
 head to buy chickens," was Michel's reply. 
 
 20 
 
SHADOWS 
 
 " Since when was I a thief to take thy lies 
 without pice if the lies be not too big ? " 
 
 Lalhan eyed him ; but he knew the ways 
 of Pierre Michel too well to attempt cajolery, 
 which might have answered with sahibs and 
 such like fools. 
 
 " Gopal babu hath a fancy for such ripen- 
 ing fruit, and the house being his " 
 
 " Chup ! " said Michel, savagely. He did 
 not often use " sahibs' words " ; sometimes, 
 however, instances such as this forced before 
 him the knowledge of the gulf between him 
 and those of the bazar, for all his life among 
 them. 
 
 "Is this bazar talk ? " he asked, after a 
 silence. 
 
 " Nay, not yet, though truly all know that 
 the babu goeth often to the house, yet most 
 think 'tis to demand his long-due money. 
 She that was wife of the sweeper there," with 
 another nod towards the other roof, " hath 
 the tale by heart though. They that dwell 
 on balconies have an eye for many things, 
 and she doth not forget that the babu sent 
 her to live there." 
 
 Michel caught in his breath quickly ; then 
 he thought for some minutes, in French. 
 
 21 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 When he brought himself back to Bengali 
 speech and ways, he pushed an eight-anna 
 piece along the coping towards Lalhan. 
 
 " Go," he said, shortly, " and when any of 
 the bazar speak of her and of me say that 
 I, at least, am no sala ! " and with the fierce 
 word he straightened himself and began to 
 tramp up and down the roof, the words that 
 went up and down his brain with the strides 
 being, " Pauvre cherie, ma pauvre cherie ! " 
 
 And Lalhan changed his attempt at hesi- 
 tancy into a discretionary departure seeing 
 that he had more by two annas than he had 
 expected to get. 
 
" Two we were and the heart was one." 
 
 Fr. Villon. 
 
 FEW, if any, among the thousands that pass 
 in and out of Calcutta ever see a Eurasian 
 home ; it is doubtful if they ever know a 
 Eurasian. The floating population which 
 constitutes Calcutta society of the first and 
 second grade, with interests three-fourths at 
 home, know vaguely that these people exist, 
 somewhere ; those of the third grade some- 
 times endure them perforce as nurses ; but, 
 naturally, it is only the undesirables who 
 loom before one those who have money 
 and some influence are wise enough to step 
 into the Anglo-Indian ranks when possible 
 and allow people to forget that ever they 
 were " chee-chee." But the average Eura- 
 sians have neither money nor influence ; 
 therefore they herd together among the 
 bazars, scorned alike by the few "poor 
 whites " who are driven to live there also, 
 23 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 and by the Bengalis who crowd the high 
 grey-white houses. But there are gradations 
 even in the depths of half- and quarter-castes. 
 Entally, their own particular quarter, offers 
 comparative luxury against the side lanes off 
 Bentinck Street : and to live in these again 
 meant a much better way of life than one 
 found in Dhuki's Gully. For the place was 
 one in which few lived precisely open lives, 
 and the very fat chowkidar who patrolled the 
 main thoroughfare beyond avoided much 
 straying down the Gully, both for the sake 
 of its dwellers' peace and that of his own 
 plump self. Of what use was it to make fuss 
 and reports because old Jeswara had an 
 alleged " club " within two ground floor 
 rooms, where the bachelor khitmaghars who 
 herded there at night and in off-hours, spent 
 in gambling a large amount of the time that 
 they should have been sleeping ? And Bal- 
 govind babu was more than suspected of 
 assisting his aged parent out of a world of 
 woe by the simple device of a rather pre- 
 mature use of the marigold.* What would 
 
 * The Indian marigold, which grows wild in 
 abundance, adorns the open bier on which a corpse 
 is carried to the burning ghat. 
 
 H 
 
THE MAN WHO HAD NOT SOWN 
 
 you have ? Surely tfye old woman would 
 soon have died, being over ninety years, and 
 in the old days would have been assisted out 
 of her wearisome existence long since with 
 the help of some Ganges mud ? Also there 
 was Sewjore, whom all the world and for 
 once the thana also had known to be 
 partner in a counterfeiting business, only that 
 the pleader babu's smartness had rescued 
 him to carry on a slightly less dangerous 
 trade in Dhuki's Gully. But it was indispu- 
 table fact, as Gopal babu had once impressed 
 upon him, that one poor solitary chowkidar, 
 however zealous in the Sirkar's service, could 
 not wrestle with the ways of Dhukuria Lane, 
 especially as the said chowkidar's specific 
 work was directing the traffic of the main 
 street of the bazar. 
 
 So Dhuki's Gully was left to itself, and 
 rarely saw a white face, much less felt any 
 influence from the region of Government 
 Place, save when plague strayed up and down 
 the bazar, and the Gully came in for some 
 perfunctory sweeping and disinfecting. To 
 all other intents and purposes Dhuki's Gully 
 might have been in a Native State, only that 
 it might have been in a better condition in 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 Jaipore for instance. There were few court- 
 yards in the lane, and nothing that could 
 have been dignified even by Eastern imagina- 
 tion into a compound. Therefore the inhabi- 
 tants sweltered in and upon their houses all 
 day ; at sunset, the wealthier ones among the 
 babus hired a ricketty gharri, packed it with 
 progeny to the splitting point, and went off 
 to take the air. The more energetic among 
 the Eurasians went listlessly through the 
 bazar, or even as far as Dharamtolah, where 
 they, the real Anglo- India, might meet, and 
 be duly scorned by, the poor part of that 
 which called itself Anglo- India. Most of 
 Dhuki's Gully, however, was not energetic, 
 and preferred to spend the cool hours upon 
 its own or some one else's roof. For which 
 purpose Pierre Michel sahib's roof would 
 have given more scope than most ; it was a 
 pity, the matrons of the gully agreed, that he 
 was such an unsociable gentleman above all 
 that he had not duly married one of their 
 many charming daughters. Not that this 
 failure had been due to lack of invitation ; 
 every mother in the Gully had invited him 
 to become her esteemed son-in-law any time 
 these ten years, but he had worn down even 
 
 26 
 
THE MAN WHO HAD NOT SOWN 
 
 the Eurasian's matchmaking propensities, 
 which are of the keenest, and they had long 
 decided that his rejection of their delicate 
 advances was part of his general queerness, 
 and could no more be solved than that query 
 which for years had troubled the lane : why 
 did Pierre Michel sahib ever come there? 
 This question Pierre had often asked himself, 
 without obtaining a clear reply. Why he 
 had come to India was clear enough because 
 he had been a coward. 
 
 At first he had thought it the purest 
 patriotism and bravest defiance of fate ; in 
 later years he had come to know his flight 
 from France in the true light, but by that 
 time he was too old, and too listless with 
 Eastern suns and Eastern glamour, to go back 
 and pick up the threads which he had tangled 
 so at life's start. For this man, living the 
 life of the bazar, with no apparent higher aim 
 than to make coats for babus, Eurasians, and 
 occasional " poor whites," had begun as a 
 Frenchman and a gentleman. 
 
 He had always had more time at his call 
 than is good for any lad, and he was heady 
 with over-much reading of the Young France 
 school and his own attempts to live up to the 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 (< liberte, egalit4 et fraternitey which was 
 dinned into him on all sides by his set. A 
 lonely orphan, of the small country gentleman 
 stock, France held his every interest, and 
 filled the place of mother, friend, and sweet- 
 heart. 
 
 And then suddenly his rose-leaf world 
 went to pieces beneath the press of grim 
 realities ; his France or her sick king rather 
 blundered into war, and before the war 
 was a week old, Pierre Michel blundered into 
 love with a frail dainty slip of a child, like 
 Sevres china. 
 
 The idyll was swift, and therefore perfect ; 
 the only jarring note to its tender melody 
 was that he should have seen the end too 
 late to save her, too soon for death to have 
 spread his calm over the horror of the scene 
 and soothed the terror from her face. That 
 it was accidental the men, a foraging party, 
 were drunk and crazed with gore and victory 
 did not help the boy who had just learnt 
 to love her ; he grew old and fierce in that 
 night. 
 
 And after that came Worth. 
 
 He crept from its carnage with his every 
 hope for France killed the waves of blood 
 
 28 
 
THE MAN WHO HAD NOT SOWN 
 
 which lapped on its horrible field had en- 
 gulfed every aim, both for himself and 
 France. He only wanted vaguely to be 
 away from it all, to go somewhere where 
 his country's shame and defeat should not 
 be known. 
 
 It was in this mood that he wandered East 
 to Australia first, perforce, as the boat's 
 port was there, then by natural progress back 
 to Singapore, Ceylon and India. The reason 
 that he remained there was the prosaic one 
 of want of rupees to carry him anywhere else, 
 joined to the fact that its ways suited him. 
 Travelling thirty years ago was slow, and he 
 had long since come to an end of the store 
 brought from France, and had then de- 
 pended on stray employment. He worked 
 at odd trades in odd places, settling finally 
 to tailoring for no particular reason save 
 that his then employer took a liking to 
 him and had patience to teach him. That 
 was nearly twenty years ago, in a place 
 very far removed from Calcutta ; then he 
 spent a while in Delhi ; from there he came 
 down to Calcutta. 
 
 His settling there was as aimless as had 
 been his wanderings, for no good reason save 
 
 29 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 that he was growing old and somewhat tired, 
 and also that the vicinity of Dhuki's Lane 
 was in want of an " English " tailor. After a 
 time, too, he came to enjoy the distinction of 
 being the only pucca white in the bazar, and 
 the feeling of aloofness which resulted. But 
 he still had emotions, although sobered by 
 time and his contempt of his cowardly self of 
 thirty years ago. And these emotions centred 
 themselves had done so for some ten years 
 on the girl whom he had watched in the 
 grey light. 
 
 Theresa D'Cruz had stumbled into the 
 doorway of his shop soon after she had learnt 
 to manoeuvre her baby feet unaided down the 
 Gully ; he was alone, it being a Mohammedan 
 holiday, and the general feeling of laziness 
 prevalent on the hot air had made him throw 
 down the elegant chess-board check with 
 which he had been playing at coat-making 
 and take to playing in earnest. That fatal 
 discursiveness which has damned many a 
 better man than Pierre Michel, had made him 
 a musician in a small way : his appreciation 
 was great, his rendering of what he appre- 
 ciated was greater : but it was just that one 
 remove from fine work which is caused by 
 
 30 
 
THE MAN WHO HAD NOT SOWN 
 
 that devil's gift aforesaid. It had been the 
 child's first hearing of music, save for the 
 twanging of native violins when some stray 
 Bheruas * were performing in courtyards 
 adjacent to the bazar. She crept further in, 
 and began to clap her tiny hands together 
 softly, Eastern fashion ; at the sound Pierre 
 turned and saw his baby visitor standing, 
 with no apparent fear, only a divided interest 
 between himself and the big scissors of which 
 she desired possession. She had stood there 
 ever since, in the man's mind, the room was 
 lonely without her, or the thought of her. 
 His world had held no child, just as it had 
 held no woman worth the name, since those 
 far days when his world was France : the 
 strangeness of it wakened interest at first. 
 Then, knowing her story or rather her 
 mother's a pity that for once was unmixed 
 with contempt strengthened the interest. 
 
 And out of these grew love. 
 
 The first clear evidence of this was that 
 Pierre remembered that he was a French- 
 man, not merely a " poor white." He began, 
 for the first time for some eight and twenty 
 
 * Lit. " sheep " the musicians who accompany 
 a nautch girl. 
 
 31 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 years, to speak as well as think in French : 
 then he gathered books around him old 
 classics from the four-to-eight-anna boxes in 
 the New Market, modern reviews, an occa- 
 sional new volume and slowly groped his 
 way backwards, always a far harder thing 
 than going forward. While he was learning 
 what his France had been thinking for the 
 past quarter-century, he taught a little of it, 
 unconsciously, to the child. Consciously, he 
 taught her French, the joy growing in him 
 daily of thinking and speaking with her in the 
 same fashion : also he taught her to sing and 
 play the violin, but not so well as he taught 
 the French, since he had not the same joy in 
 the work. The thing caused ridicule at first 
 in Dhuki's Gully : later the various Mrs. De 
 Quadras', Pereiras', and Gonsalez' made the 
 remarks which were inevitable are for ever 
 inevitable from women of their type, whether 
 blabbed on a Calcutta roof or in a Park Lane 
 drawing-room. 
 
 But despite all Dhuki's Lane, the little 
 Theresa spent most of her days in the corner 
 shop, or sitting upon its roof when it was cool 
 enough, gravely watching Pierre and his 
 darzis at work or, with a book propped 
 
 32 
 
THE MAN WHO HAD NOT SOWN 
 
 against the cornice, studying as gravely the 
 ways of the world from which Pierre came, 
 stranger to her than any Eastern wonders. 
 All to the gladness of Pierre, the mystifica- 
 tion of the Lane, and the joy of old Judah 
 Solomon on the roof opposite, who, Cochin 
 " Black Jew " as he was originally, was 
 learned beyond any in that quarter, and eager 
 to aid Pierre in his education of Theresa, only 
 Pierre Michel wanted no aid in this work : 
 he had come, through the late years that had 
 been more chequered with light than shade, 
 to look upon Theresa D'Cruz as his own, and 
 to resent with contempt, when not with anger, 
 anything that pointed to the contrary. He 
 ignored sometimes he really forgot the 
 existence of Mrs. D'Cruz, or of a certain 
 convict away in the Andamans whose name 
 was entered on the prison roll as Dominic 
 D'Cruz, or of those grimmer facts which lay 
 behind it all. He had never loved anything 
 or anyone since he was a wild frightened 
 lad looking down at a girl's loveliness torn 
 to pieces by gunshot. Now he loved the 
 child as if she were verily bone of his bone, 
 and hugging the present to him, refused to 
 see the inevitable future. 
 
 33 c 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 Even when Theresa drifted to a Catholic 
 mission-school, after the fashion of the low- 
 class Eurasians, he still had her most of the 
 hours, and laughed when he saw that she 
 wearied for the time to pass until she could 
 return to his school. 
 
 Only on one day he did not laugh, and the 
 faint shadow came into the girl's eyes which 
 remained in them and deepened with the 
 years she was seven then. 
 
 Pierre was humming " Marlbrouk" as he 
 cut out a waistcoat. He had made a lucky 
 find of a volume of French poems in the 
 bazar that morning, and there were several 
 which he had vainly tried to recall for 
 Theresa ; he did not expect the child for 
 some time, for the rains were on, and the good 
 Sisters would not let her start on her long 
 walk in such a deluge. But she came, earlier 
 than usual, her clothes soaking, her little face 
 set : Pierre broke off his rather cheery ren- 
 dering of " Marlbrouk " at sight of it. 
 
 " Pierre tell me is it true ? " She had 
 gone up to him, careless of the rain which 
 dripped from her and formed little pools 
 around, and clasped her hands across his arm, 
 a way she had when excited. 
 
 34 
 
THE MAN WHO HAD NOT SOWN 
 
 " What is it, then, little one ? " he asked 
 in French, his eyes turning on the two men 
 who worked with him. She answered in 
 French also, but was heedless of the darzis. 
 
 "There was a girl at the school we 
 quarrelled, and she said she said I was a 
 that I had no father, that Leola's papa does 
 not belong to me oh Pierre, Pierre ! " She 
 shivered and was silent, leaning against him. 
 
 A child of seven in any slum is twelve ; out 
 East she is fourteen. Yet Pierre Michel 
 had kept her untainted to a degree considered 
 foolish in Dhuki's Gully and at seven came 
 this. The primary facts of life had been 
 forced upon her despite his shielding, and a 
 lie would serve no longer. 
 
 He hesitated for the words which might 
 put the hard fact into the softest shape. He 
 had grown to look upon Theresa as wholly 
 French, and a French child should not know 
 of these things. 
 
 " It is true because you are afraid to tell 
 me," she said passionately, as he hesitated. 
 The slow flush rose to her forehead, the 
 great dark eyes grew cloudy, although no 
 tears came ; and turning from him, she stum- 
 bled up the narrow stone stair to the roof. 
 
 35 
 
When he followed she had still no words, 
 and they sat in silence under the shed of 
 matting, which was the only protection against 
 the driving torrents. After a time he began 
 to croon scraps of old chansons to her, much 
 as a mother would to a sick child, heedless of 
 the words so long as the rhythm soothed the 
 pain. He slipped his arms around her as he 
 hummed, and after a time she leant heavily 
 against them and fell asleep. 
 
 And Pierre had a glad hour of that joy 
 which was known at the beginning, and 
 hardly needed a Byron to emphasise. 
 
 The child never spoke of the thing again. 
 Sometimes Pierre wondered if she had indeed 
 understood, or had she forgotten. 
 
 It was drearily commonplace, the story 
 only such commonplaces are apt to be trage- 
 dies to those concerned. Mrs D'Cruz, fat, 
 coarse, unkempt, and vulgar in every detail 
 now, had been the beauty of Delhi fifteen 
 years before, as far as the middle-class Eura- 
 sian part of it went. And Delhi just then 
 was busy, like the rest of India, rendering up 
 the delights of the East to a certain Euro- 
 pean prince. There had been the usual 
 official suggestions that this was a favourable 
 
 36 
 
THE MAN WHO HAD NOT SOWN 
 
 opportunity for strengthening England's posi- 
 tion with her friend the enemy ; and, more- 
 over, the Crown Prince would inevitably be 
 king next year. And so into the scheme of 
 pleasure came Vera Cardoza, owing to the 
 desire on the part of her papa to curry favour 
 at any price with a certain deputy sub-assis- 
 tant. The price was high, perhaps, looked 
 at from the girl's point of view and that of 
 the child who was called Theresa D'Cruz ; 
 but it was quite satisfactory to Papa Cardoza, 
 and the supply of rupees was indeed princely 
 almost sufficient for papa Cardoza's press- 
 ing debts, after he had obtained Vera a 
 husband in the shape of Dominic D'Cruz. 
 
 This was the background of Theresa's 
 life. The life itself seemed, by the tattle of 
 Lalhan the cutter, to be already tinged with 
 the same shadows. And Pierre Michel, who 
 loved the child heart, body, and soul, as he 
 had loved nothing else throughout his man- 
 hood, sat on his roof-top waiting, after the 
 fashion of the East, for the shadows to 
 become tangible. 
 
 37 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 A DEAL 
 
 " Also I think that good must come of 
 
 good 
 
 And ill of evil surely unto all, 
 In every place and time." 
 
 Sir Edwin Arnold. 
 
 " OH, you silly girl; you foolish, wicked girl." 
 The high voice paused abruptly at the 
 middle note of the scale, somewhere about G 
 in alt, up which it had been running. The 
 pause was from lack of breath, not of words, 
 for with those Mrs. D'Cruz was lavish and 
 had ever a supply to fit the needs of herself 
 and all others. 
 
 " When you might have the life of a lady 
 he'd give you better than many a man 
 and what do you think you're going to do, 
 you and your pride ? " The shrill voice with 
 the chee-chee slur in it that contrives to be 
 also staccato, rose again, vexing the hot air 
 by reason of its own fierce heat. " Are you 
 
 38 
 
A DEAL 
 
 waiting for some one to take you to live in 
 Park Street ? If he turns us all out of the 
 house before next month then you'll be quite 
 pleased, eh ? " 
 
 Theresa, standing motionless against the 
 window ledge, might have been part of its 
 stone ; there was a grey shade over her face 
 the colour only brought to a face by mortal 
 terror, and her wide eyes held nothing but 
 fear also. 
 
 Mrs. D'Cruz glanced at her during the 
 breathing-pauses with almost more curiosity 
 than anger. It was not usual for any one in 
 the Lane to take things in that way. Leola 
 Maud, for example, the eldest D'Cruz her 
 voice could be heard now from the neighbour- 
 ing flat, as she led an earnest discussion as to 
 frills or tucks being used on a wedding gown. 
 The numerous other children, too, were like 
 ordinary people, and howled and bickered 
 upon occasion or upon none. But she, 
 Mrs. D'Cruz, was almost as indignant with 
 her stoniness as with her refusal to aid her 
 family when in difficulties. 
 
 " You have been made such a fine lady, 
 you have been made forget where you belong 
 to, eh ? With your lessons in French and 
 
 39 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 Itallyan, and oh, mu-sic and singing," the 
 see-saw voice cut up the words more in its 
 attempted scorn. "You are a nice lot, with 
 all your Frenchman's teaching! If Pierre 
 Michel wants you so fine, why ? " 
 
 " Hush, mama," cried the girl, with the 
 stillness of fear all broken at last, " not Pierre 
 keep from his name. Oh, he has given me 
 all the good I know, only he doesn't want 
 me to be to be " she hesitated. 
 
 " Not like your own people, your own poor 
 mama and papa," Mrs. D Cruz's voice slid 
 into a whine "when we have brought you 
 up, and kept you here idle, and there are all 
 your poor little brothers and sisters " 
 
 "My what?" asked the girl bitterly. 
 Then the brief hardness passed more quickly 
 than it had come, as she turned to her in 
 passionate appeal. 
 
 " Oh, don't give me to him, mama any- 
 thing but that I am your own girl you 
 would not have me " the sudden flush crept 
 up her neck " I am yet so young and Gopal 
 babu oh, I hate him, I hate him." She 
 shivered and was silent, leaning again by the 
 window, the long tearless sobs shaking her 
 child's body. 
 
 40 
 
A DEAL 
 
 " You are so silly, Theresa you make 
 such a big fuss," complained Mrs. D'Cruz. 
 "Gopal babu must have the money this 
 month, or you, so if Pierre Michel does not 
 like it that way, you must ask him for some 
 of his rupees to pay Gopal babu's rent. He 
 has much all the Lane knows that and he 
 will gladly pay it for your pretty sake, eh?" 
 
 The utter hopeless misery on the girl's face 
 as she heard the proposal was not good to 
 see. She walked swiftly to the stairway, 
 drawing herself from Mrs. D'Cruz as she 
 passed her : endurance had reached its limits 
 and she must get away from that loud voice 
 and what it asked if that were possible. 
 For the grim facts of life life, that is, as 
 known in Dhuki's Gully had been given 
 tangible shape by Mrs. D'Cruz and went to 
 and fro before Theresa's eyes in all their 
 possible horror. As she went down the stairs, 
 someone passed her, turned, and touched her 
 softly : she shrank up as if it had been a 
 cobra. 
 
 " Our little Theresa is in trouble ? A few 
 
 words with mama ? I will put all right with 
 
 her it is about Gopal babu ? Do not be 
 
 afraid, my child : of course, I should not 
 
 41 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 allow such a thing. I have arranged matters 
 he will have the rent to-morrow." 
 
 She looked up swiftly, somewhat as a 
 scared animal will look up to see if the 
 releasing hand will give freedom or the last 
 pain of death. 
 
 " Oh," she said, with more contempt than 
 relief in the tone and slipped away from him. 
 Her mother she feared a little, but seeing 
 the puerility behind her tempests of passion, 
 she felt something of pity for her too : 
 Dominic D'Cruz she loathed, feared, and 
 hated at once. Probably her sense of justice, 
 trained by Pierre, like her other senses, more 
 than was wise for one in Dhuki's Gully, 
 revolted at the part he had been bought to 
 play in her life : she had never alluded to 
 him otherwise than as " him " since the day, 
 seven years before, when she first learnt of 
 it. All she had known of him since had 
 made her loathe him more. He was one of 
 those men who are necessarily religious 
 they find it pays, and also they really enjoy 
 the emotions it gives them. The world 
 generally calls them hypocrites, but they are 
 born so, not made : that they are also sensu- 
 alists is merely part of the same birth-right. 
 
 4 2 
 
A DEAL 
 
 Dominic D'Cruz had passed through such 
 a sea of emotions of late, religious and other- 
 wise, that he had landed on the shore of 
 commonplaces with actual relief: the said 
 emotions included the little matter of his 
 conversion from Catholicism to the Wesleyan 
 fold, and a long term in jail. Which was 
 effect and cause, the connecting link being a 
 series of frauds on a Franciscan mission 
 which had placed too absolute a trust in his 
 secretarial powers. There was an ugly busi- 
 ness of counterfeit notes, the Bengalis who 
 engineered it having cleared with their 
 usual astuteness before the crash came, and 
 left their " passer " to receive its brunt. 
 
 So that D'Cruz, newly arrived in the 
 society of his family and friends, and with 
 virtue and his new religion burning within 
 him, had evidently been much shocked by 
 Gopal babu's proposed way of squaring the 
 overdue rent, and had somehow struggled to 
 raise the money in a legitimate way. 
 
 Yet Theresa, as she passed down the stairs 
 and into the Lane teeming with children and 
 offal, feared his tenderness even more than 
 her mother's rage ; as she stood irresolute, 
 seeking a quiet refuge, she put up one hand 
 
 43 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 mechanically to the shoulder he had touched 
 and flicked the loose sleeve, as if to shake off 
 his contamination. 
 
 She turned up the narrow gully a mere 
 slit between the walls, which ran at the back 
 of the building : it was all Gopal babu's 
 property, as was the most of the Lane. Half 
 way she came upon a group of children, dark 
 mites black, some of them bare-legged, 
 clamorous, reminding one of nothing so much 
 as a nest of baby snakes, as they twisted 
 aimlessly about. One atom detached itself 
 from the mass and fastened upon her. 
 
 " Te'sa, Te'sa ! Mish'na, mish'na ! " * 
 
 The shrill little voice had the proudness of 
 possession : the sweet itself, a large round of 
 greasy brown sugar, was pressed generously 
 against Theresa's lips. 
 
 "Nay nay mangta,"f she answered, 
 putting the child from her gently : he was 
 her mother's youngest. 
 
 There were several of the D'Cruz brood 
 among the group : Theresa idly asked an 
 elder one where the pice were found to buy 
 such luxuries. The answer, in a general 
 
 * Mishtanna sweetmeats, 
 t I don't want it. 
 
 44 
 
A DEAL 
 
 babble of Bengali and mutilated English, 
 brought the too-sensitive blood to her face 
 again as she walked away. They had been 
 out on a general " cadge," as one expressed 
 it, proud of his knowledge of English slang, 
 and had gathered in four annas from a newly- 
 arrived mem-sahib who listened to their 
 whine of woe. As Theresa went into the 
 scrap of a lean-to which was her destination 
 a bit of matting tacked on to the back of 
 the building she was wishing with all her 
 tired soul that she were a native pucca 
 native rather than of the mongrel breed which 
 is scorned by black and white alike. It hurts 
 more to be a mongrel when there is a strain 
 of thoroughbred in you. 
 
 The house it would have been called a 
 toolshed in England held only an old man 
 and a boy for occupants. The former rose 
 from the ground with a salaam which he 
 would have given to none other in the Gully : 
 the boy lay still on the charpoy he was 
 paralysed up to the waist. Theresa touched 
 one of the thin hands softly as she crouched 
 beside the charpoy : she had enough of the 
 East to know that condolences are things to 
 be reserved for when the sufferer is dead. 
 
 45 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 The old man Rozal Singh, sweeper to 
 the Lane was upright and vigorous yet ; 
 his last marriage had been somewhat late in 
 life, with a wife too young and pretty. That 
 was what Gopal babu had thought, and he 
 found the luring of her away a mere matter 
 of gay saris and flashy jewellery. Rozal, 
 whose early attempts to wipe off his shame 
 with blood had only brought him to the 
 thana and left his son to be crushed by a 
 bullock-wagon, was biding his time now, 
 none the less intent on his purpose because 
 he had apparently put it aside. When the 
 boy was dead it would not be long to wait 
 he would have vengeance. 
 
 He broke the silence at last, watching 
 Theresa narrowly. 
 
 " Is it a new tale, baba ? " 
 
 Theresa shook her head. 
 
 "Gopal babu hath demanded rent," she 
 answered, wearily. 
 
 " Or thee," put in the sweeper, quickly. 
 " Lo, 'tis in the bazar that he hath looked on 
 thee with favour, and the end of his favour 
 all know. Listen, baba," he edged towards 
 her and dropped his voice, "when this hand 
 is free to strike, he shall trouble thee no more, 
 
 46 
 
A DEAL 
 
 but now/' he gave a sidelong glance at the 
 charpoy, " what shall be ? " 
 
 " He hath said that the rent shall be 
 given Gopal babu to-morrow and all will be 
 well," Theresa went on, "but can there be 
 help from jackals ? None would give him 
 so many rupees from his new mission : and 
 yesterday he had not three. How can I 
 believe this tale ? " 
 
 " 'Tis but another lie, baba," answered the 
 mehtar, "and if it were true" in a voice 
 low with pity " would all the rent due to 
 him satisfy the babu, oh, little white dove ? " 
 
 He looked down at her tenderly ; he had 
 nursed her before her steps were firm and 
 had given her more care than Mrs. D'Cruz 
 and Dominic together, this outcast fellow 
 whose life, and that of his people before him, 
 had been spent in sweeping together dust, 
 dirt, and all manner of pollution, and who 
 was by instinct a gentleman. There are 
 some such in India among the servers, but 
 not often among those of the snowy gar- 
 ments and perfect table manners. 
 
 The girl looked back at him with her eyes 
 wide open, like a terrified bird indeed. 
 
 " See, baba, there is but one way of safety 
 47 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 for thee there is none while the babu liveth 
 there," nodding towards the other end of the 
 bazar. 
 
 " But but you dare not do anything 
 there ? " she whispered. 
 
 " There no, baba. But there is a house 
 unto which he goes near the H'rrison Rasta. 
 In Radha Bazar is more safety a man 
 might reach the river soon from there 
 there is a manji who can be trusted or 
 Howrah."* 
 
 He paused expressively ; probably to any 
 other girl or woman in that street his 
 explanation would have been less veiled ; 
 something in Theresa, perhaps the know- 
 ledge of her "blood of kings," perhaps her 
 great beauty, always made him cloak grim 
 facts as if she had been a real mem of the 
 highest rank. 
 
 " Rozal, Rozal," she cried, putting her 
 hand on his suddenly, " I must not listen to 
 this talk thou wilt not think of such a deed. 
 I will run away to the mission if he tries to 
 take me. Thou must not thou must not." 
 
 ' ' Lo, I have something to repay Gopal 
 
 * The south-side station of Calcutta. 
 48 
 
A DEAL 
 
 babu," he answered, with the slow fire 
 of hate creeping through his words. " If 
 thou cans't have safety at the Missen, go 
 though for us poor ones there will then be 
 no light in life but the dog shall have 
 payment." 
 
 49 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE GREAT FACTOR 
 
 " Some things which are not yet enrolled 
 In market lists, are bought and sold." 
 
 Rossetti. 
 
 " THE man has a strange fancy, to keep all 
 for the sake of one." 
 
 The words caught Theresa's ear as she 
 came level with Pierre Michel's doorway ; 
 the tone was perhaps a trifle raised above 
 the average Eurasian high-pitch for her 
 benefit ; the speaker, a woman with no name 
 and much fame as the hardest scandal-monger 
 in the Lane, stared at the girl as she passed. 
 The woman's companion, a fat old creature 
 of much piety, who kept an alleged boarding- 
 house in the bazar, turned evil eyes of con- 
 tempt after Theresa. 
 
 She almost ran into the shop : the darzis 
 were gone for the day, and Pierre was 
 bending over a lamp, lighting it. Her quick 
 
 50 
 
THE GREAT FACTOR 
 
 brain had found the reason of Dominic 
 D'Cruz' tender mercy. 
 
 " Pierre, tell me did you give it the 
 money for Gopal babu to him ? " 
 
 Her French was perfect in form, but fell 
 with a curious accent, somewhat akin to that 
 of Provence : her English speech had been 
 moulded by Pierre until it had little of the 
 harshness of the low-caste Eurasian. She 
 had striven to please him in that as in all else, 
 content with the dreariness of the days, the 
 eternal dirt and poverty, the futile bickerings 
 and tempests, if for an hour of them she had 
 Pierre's approval. 
 
 He lit the lamp before he answered her : 
 when he spoke it was another question, 
 and there was a grave tone through his 
 tenderness. 
 
 " Tell me then, little one where have you 
 come from just now ? " 
 
 " From Rozal Singh's she she was I 
 wanted to be somewhere quiet, where they 
 would not come, until you had finished work. 
 Why, Pierre ? " 
 
 " Because because of women's tongues 
 mostly Rosina Pereira, and all such. Be- 
 cause I am afraid for my flower in the black- 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 ness of this sink, where evil thoughts and 
 words that match them follow every foot- 
 step." 
 
 " Rosina was there as I came by," said 
 Theresa. " Did you give Dominic the 
 money to pay Gopal babu ? " 
 
 He looked curiously at her, as if wondering 
 how much he should say, and if it should be 
 said to the child or the woman : then with 
 sudden resolve he drew her hands into his 
 if the last time had come, let them have tender 
 memories of it to keep through the lonely 
 years. 
 
 " Listen then, little one I want to speak 
 of so many things, and some of them will 
 hurt you and me. I think they should hurt 
 me more, because I have made life harder 
 for you than for these others. Ah yes," as 
 Theresa would have stopped him, " far 
 harder. The others they do not know that 
 they live in a slough, so they are content ; 
 but for you, there are other things of which 
 I have taught you only, I fear, to bring you 
 more pain than gain. And you are so wise 
 so wise and so lovely, Theresa, that these 
 pigs of women, they hate you but every man 
 in the bazar loves you, which is worse." His 
 
 52 
 
THE GREAT FACTOR 
 
 fingers closed over hers passionately : why 
 was he not twenty years older or twenty 
 years younger, he asked himself fiercely, that 
 he might show her one way or another of 
 escape. 
 
 " Here there is no way out for you," he 
 went on. "If you climb to the edge of the 
 slough, the others will push you back into it. 
 But away from here you would have the fresh 
 air, and be among those who have souls as 
 well as bodies." He paused questioningly. 
 Her eyes sent one quick look of entreaty to 
 his, then she said hopelessly : 
 
 " Where could I go what can I do but 
 stay ? I have no one, Pierre no one outside 
 the bazar and here I have you." 
 
 Pierre flinched : the frank adoration was 
 that of a devoted child who had kept 
 some measure of innocent youth despite 
 the old age forced upon all in Dhuki's 
 Gully. She made his work the harder with 
 the look. 
 
 " Little one," he said suddenly, " will you 
 trust your friend ? I have been thinking, 
 thinking, all the days and nights since you 
 left the mission-school, how I can hedge my 
 flower from from this " throwing out one 
 
 53 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 hand towards the Lane. "And there is only 
 one way to keep you, dear and that is to 
 send you away from it all anywhere out of 
 this hell. Wait then " laying his hand 
 firmly on hers again "let me say it all: 
 there may come no other time. Let us have 
 first the pain then we will forget it for an 
 hour. I am fifty-two, Theresa, and you 
 you have not fourteen years yet, and already 
 the talk begins " he gave a dreary laugh. 
 "You heard Rosina Pereira and there are 
 all the others, the crowd of chattering harpies 
 who settle upon every speck of whiteness that 
 chances in this place, and swiftly make it 
 black as themselves. I want you to stay 
 white, my little flower, and to go out of it 
 all for Pierre's sake. I think this thing has 
 come now to mock me for my old cowardice 
 justice, the good easy ones would say. I cut 
 myself off from France because she failed, 
 and now I am a stranger to her. I know no 
 solitary creature there and I can hardly 
 send you adrift, care of M. le Maire a Paris. 
 And yet, there are thousands of good women 
 in France who would shelter you, dearest- 
 there may be some in India but we do not 
 know them, there is always a barrier between 
 
 54 
 
THE GREAT FACTOR 
 
 us here and the other side. So I want you 
 to go back to the convent, Theresa, until 
 they find you a new home. There are wise 
 heads among the nuns perhaps" he 
 stopped abruptly in the long-woven speech 
 which he was making for the sake of accus- 
 toming the girl to his proposal : her head 
 was down across her arms as the sobs began 
 to shake her. 
 
 "Oh, Pierre my good friend, Pierre 
 don't send me away from you : I have no 
 one else outside in the world they will be 
 all hard, cold, cruel. The country-born girls 
 at the convent despised us, and I always felt 
 miserable and wicked near them, and here 
 we are all alike." 
 
 He stroked her hair softly. 
 
 " No, little one, that is the pity, not all 
 alike you are so far apart, and you must not 
 grow like the others. I want you to be pure 
 and sweet always, my flower, until someone 
 comes who is fit to pluck you." 
 
 " But what should I do at the convent ? I 
 cannot embroider well, and there is nothing 
 else, and they have too many little ones to 
 keep to have me always." She lifted her 
 great eyes appealingly. 
 
 55 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 " Ah Theresa, do you not think that I 
 would keep you if I could ? " He crushed 
 her hands together in his. "There will be 
 long days and nights, and the violin will be 
 silent, and all the books will be shut, but I 
 shall know that you are safe, little one, and 
 shall be content." 
 
 " And she and Dominic ? " suddenly at 
 her own query the girl shrank back, self- 
 enlightened. " That was what Rosina meant 
 you paid off Gopal babu to have me safe 
 from him and now, now you want me gone." 
 She paused and laid her hand timidly on his 
 arm. 
 
 " Let me stay with you, Pierre here in- 
 stead of old Jummon, and I will make bazar 
 for you and cook I cook at home since 
 the nuns taught me. And I shall be quite 
 quite safe from Gopal babu and every one 
 else." 
 
 " From every one else," repeated Pierre, 
 softly, "only, little one, there is myself. 
 Theresa," he said, passionately, " I must 
 make you understand, now the fault is to 
 me, I have tried to shelter you too long. If 
 you came to be my little housekeeper, if you 
 even come again, as now, in the evening, 
 
THE GREAT FACTOR 
 
 they these people in the Lane, whose lives 
 are chained to evil thoughts by their very 
 origins they would seize my little flower 
 and tear the white petals, or throw the dirt 
 of the Lane upon them. You will not come 
 again, dear one, but in two days you will go 
 to the nuns, for my sake, for your own sake, 
 and I will see you there sometimes on visit- 
 ing days. With them you will be safe and 
 happy, and then, little one, some day when 
 you are older and even wiser, and all this 
 pretty hair is coiled in the pretty neck, then 
 some one will come who is fit to gather my 
 flower, and I will not have to guard her any 
 more." 
 
 He turned towards her, smiling, and 
 picked up a violin as if to end the talk ; but 
 Theresa slowly drew herself away. 
 
 "No, Pierre ; do not ask me to go to the 
 convent again. They are all so good and 
 far away from us, and Mother Xavier is hard 
 a little. She thinks all who are dark are 
 the nearer damnation, I think, and that we 
 should be watched always to save us from 
 falling. Oh, why do people think we must 
 all be bad," she broke out. "I want to be 
 good, and they mama, and Dominic, and 
 
 57 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 Leola Maud and all the Lane they try to 
 make me bad. And, Pierre, there is Maurice 
 Pereira he would go to Mother Xavier, and 
 he could twist her his way, and soon she 
 would tell me to marry him ; he can persuade 
 any one to anything they say his tongue is 
 like his father's and he would tell Mother 
 Xavier of his high aims, and she would think 
 him the saviour of us people." Her voice 
 was too weary to be bitter. "If you will 
 have me run away, Pierre, it shall be to the 
 only house in the bazar where one feels 
 where they make you feel you are white, you 
 know Wilshaw's." 
 
 Michel gave a little lift of the eyebrows ; 
 he had not been inside a church even, since 
 his teens, but the instinct of his old religion 
 remained. 
 
 " The Wesleyan 'missionary but you are 
 Catholic, little one ? " 
 
 " Mama is a Catholic," answered the girl, 
 swiftly, and Pierre was silent. " And I think 
 I want to go away where I will hear less of 
 religion," the girl went on ; "there has been 
 always so much talk of it at home with 
 Dominic, and mama when she has her 
 devout turns, and Mrs. Wilshaw never talks 
 
THE GREAT FACTOR 
 
 religion she is too wise. She can see right 
 through Dominic too, I know and yet she 
 doesn't despise him I think she is sorry 
 about him." 
 
 Michel's fingers, from idle wandering 
 across the violin strings, began the air of 
 Elsa's prayer, and played it through with an 
 intensity that linked it the more with the 
 girl at his side. 
 
 " Play then for me your swan-song," he 
 said, softly, and Theresa, with quivering 
 hands and eyes that looked steadily out to 
 the darkness of the open doorway that they 
 might not meet Pierre's, began an old air 
 which he had taught her a lullaby of which 
 he had forgotten the patois words, but which 
 was his only remembrance of his mother. As 
 she neared the end, the delicate notes frayed 
 off into sudden silence, the bow fell from the 
 quivering hands, and a long passion of young 
 tears broke up her forced stillness and 
 brought her into woman's kingdom of 
 sorrow. 
 
 59 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE FEET ON THE STAIR 
 
 " Feet that creep and edge and press 
 In and out of all men's lives." 
 
 Lo, it is the mercy of Mai Kali come upon 
 him at last surely her seal hath been there 
 these many months," was all the additional 
 information given Theresa next morning by 
 the sweeper-woman whom Rozal Singh had 
 sent, at a late hour, as budli.* That the boy 
 had been taken ill in the night, and that Rozal 
 had sent an urgent entreaty by the sweeper 
 that Theresa should not come near him, were 
 sufficient evidence of plague to the girl's mind. 
 She found herself wondering idly if the plague 
 would come to the front of the building as 
 well as the back, and how many would go 
 down with it, and whether it would travel 
 round the corner to Gopal babu's. 
 
 She stayed in her work of patching and 
 
 * Substitute. 
 60 
 
THE FEET ON THE STAIR 
 
 darning, whereby she was attempting to re- 
 claim some of the younger D'Cruz tribe from 
 the gutter-level, to look towards the angle 
 where his house stood, high above the others, 
 and hidden from the D'Cruz rooftop. It was 
 blue-washed that sun-paled blue with the 
 countless cracks showing white through it, 
 which reminds one of nothing so much as an 
 ancient garment newly dry from over-much 
 starching. The inner side, which gave on to 
 the women's quarters, had odd patches of 
 mauve-pink around the lattices the Nath 
 Ghose family had eyes for colouring in houses 
 as well as in women. Not that Theresa had 
 seen the inner court, or was likely to see it, 
 even if Gopal babu took payment of future 
 rent in kind. There were too many hawks 
 there ready to pick out the eyes of a stray 
 dove, whether brought in by Gopal's shelter- 
 ing hand or not. 
 
 But Theresa's thoughts that morning were 
 mainly of the matter which loomed above all 
 others where was she to go, what was she 
 to do with her life at this, its beginning? 
 For a Eurasian girl there are but two "re- 
 spectable " occupations, and they are only 
 respectable so far as the girl allows them to 
 
 61 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 be. She can serve in one of the drapery 
 stores, or be a nursemaid in another family 
 of Eurasians or poor whites nothing more. 
 Theresa yearned for neither of these employ- 
 ments. The nuns and Pierre between them 
 had made her a model daughter of the home, 
 but the D'Cruz house was no home, and 
 could never be made one. Leola Maud, 
 whose ambition was to get into a shop if 
 only she could scrape together the necessary 
 whole clothes, was also at the convent day- 
 school ; but she was simply the normal half- 
 caste, filled with all ways and thoughts that 
 were foolish and futile, and the nuns had not 
 spent themselves upon her as they had upon 
 the girl whose lighter hair and creamy face 
 proclaimed the white strain in her. Cruel, 
 perhaps, but natural, perhaps, out East, where 
 it is good to be white and bad to be black, 
 and rather worse to be mixed ; and the colour 
 curse works itself out in ways the triviality 
 of which robs them of even the dignity of 
 tragedy. Theresa was too young, even 
 measured by the age-standard of Dhuki's 
 Gully, to beat her wings yet against the iron 
 bars which a just society has long since 
 fashioned for the withholding of the chee- 
 
 62 
 
THE FEET ON THE STAIR 
 
 chee from a white life. She only longed 
 wearily, as she sat under the lean-to of 
 second-hand khuss-khuss, fitting in patches 
 and darning white cotton stockings, for things 
 to be different for Pierre Michel and herself 
 to go away together, right away to that little 
 village in the mountains of which Pierre had 
 told her until she knew it as well as he a 
 place still under the magic of a long absence 
 for Michel, where the village girls, in dresses 
 like those of the generation before, gathered 
 at evening in the Place, and 
 
 " Tout le monde y danse en rond." 
 
 She brought herself out of the dream with 
 a jerk. There was food to be cooked for 
 Dominic D'Cruz and the young ones of the 
 tribe who sprawled about the Lane, too young 
 yet to walk to the mission school. Theresa 
 had been out that morning at half- past five to 
 make bazar, Mrs. D'Cruz being still too drunk 
 to rouse. She had sent out for a bottle of 
 whisky and three annas worth of baraf the 
 previous night, to celebrate the family's de- 
 liverance at the hands of Pierre Michel. The 
 ice, naturally, went first, sundry of the young 
 D'Cruz' snatching at such an unusual luxury. 
 
 63 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 The remains of the whisky went to bed with 
 mama D'Cruz. 
 
 The girl had choked at sight of this first 
 result of Pierre's generosity ; she did not 
 know that he had practically kept the house- 
 hold for her sake while D'Cruz was in 
 jail, and that all Mrs. D'Cruz' orgies were 
 traceable to doles from Michel for bazar 
 expenses. 
 
 The old woman, two steps below even the 
 D'Cruz' on the Lane's social ladder, who 
 wandered in to " help " and who, with Rozal 
 Singh and the peripatetic bhisti, composed 
 the D'Cruz' retinue, was full of the fact that 
 Rozal Singh's boy had just gone of plague, 
 within a stone's throw. The insaneness of 
 her terror, foreign alike to the average native 
 and English, jarred upon the girl, who 
 accepted plague as she did the filth of the 
 Lane, as one of life's inevitables, and thought 
 that if it swept off most of the bazar, the 
 D'Cruz' household included, things would 
 possibly be better for the remnant. 
 
 Also she wondered, as she watched the sim- 
 mering of a rechauff6 which only her acquired 
 French touch had saved from nastiness, 
 whether the fires of Rozal Singh's hate would 
 
THE FEET ON THE STAIR 
 
 smoulder out in words, or if his feet would 
 indeed find their way to Gopal babu's house 
 of life. 
 
 She thought of it more when Dominic 
 came to his tiffin, virtuous indignation against 
 Mrs. D'Cruz' backsliding added to the usual 
 fussy importance of his recovered dignity and 
 new religiosity. 
 
 That Theresa had been in the bhusti the 
 previous evening was a fact already spread 
 through the Lane, where the smallest detail 
 was discussed threadbare by women whose 
 chief occupation in life was to tatter their 
 neighbour's lives. The depth of evil gossip 
 in a low-class Eurasian or poor-white locality 
 is undreamt of in the pettiest English village 
 or even an American one. 
 
 "It was very foolish of you, Theresa, to 
 take such risks, and very wrong. You do 
 not think of your poor brothers and sisters " 
 he cast a look of sad affection on those 
 assembled, while he chased a rice grain round 
 his beard. " I really will not have you mixing 
 with low-caste natives like this understand 
 now. A great deal depends upon your ex- 
 ample : think of the reponsibility, with all 
 these these helpless lambs looking to you 
 65 E 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 for " He thrust aside one of the helpless 
 
 lambs who, hanging on by a hole in the 
 tablecloth, was endeavouring to reach the 
 half-eaten banana on his father's plate, and 
 did not finish the sentence. 
 
 Theresa heard him dully and did not 
 answer ; even the satisfaction was dull with 
 which she saw him depart after a stormy 
 interview with half-sober Mrs. D'Cruz. She 
 was herself only conscious of the fact that the 
 hand of fate lay across this page of her life, 
 and that she was waiting to see which way 
 the page would be turned. 
 
 The hand did not hasten to its work, as is 
 ever the case when men would have the leaves 
 turned quickly. Theresa dragged through 
 the hot afternoon and the choking night in 
 the same mood of dull expectancy ; it was 
 early morn this time when the sweeper-woman 
 came, her face expressionless as ever, but a 
 gleam of interest in her eyes. 
 
 " Lo, baba," she said swiftly, stooping to 
 straighten a ragged end of matting where 
 Theresa sat dressing the youngest D'Cruz, 
 "Gopal babu hath been found beneath a bal- 
 cony, and already there is talk in the bazar of 
 thee and Michel sahib, and Rozal Singh and 
 66 
 
THE FEET ON THE STAIR 
 
 the price that was paid him " She broke 
 
 off as Leola Maud came into the room, flicking 
 at the matting again silently. 
 
 Theresa heard no more until, having got 
 the children away to school and Dominic to 
 his religious toil, she was persuading her 
 mother to a late breakfast. Mrs. D'Cruz, 
 with head and temper still somewhat sore 
 from three rupees' worth of whisky, was wail- 
 ing over the sameness and the poorness of the 
 food, and longing audibly for such a luxury 
 as a tin of bacon. Theresa, looking up from 
 her interminable mending at the sound of a 
 strange tread on the stairs the D'Cruz flat 
 being on the first floor saw the brother of 
 Gopal babu, a specimen of the worst type of 
 Bengali, fat and greasy, evil ploughed on 
 every line of his face. She cowered against 
 the wall, knowing that the storm had indeed 
 broken, but dreading it none the less, 
 while Mrs. D'Cruz gaped at him in genuine 
 surprise. 
 
 Before he had fairly begun to speak, some 
 one else came up the stairs a little woman, 
 sun-parched and thin, in a grey linen dress, 
 badly darzi-made, but with a glow in the eyes 
 that lit up the weary face and showed her 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 kinship to the martyrs. She stood a moment 
 irresolute, out of sight of the Bengali ; then, 
 hearing his words, she crossed over to 
 Theresa and took her hand gently. 
 
 " Don't be afraid, dear," she said, and 
 turned to hear the lurid speech which even in 
 Bengali sounded too vile for anything called 
 a man to utter before a woman ; it was, for- 
 tunately, impossible for it to be said in 
 English, which has no equivalent for some of 
 the words. When he paused for breath, Mrs. 
 D'Cruz screamed denials at him that the 
 death of his brother was arranged at Theresa's 
 instigation and paid for by Pierre Michel. It 
 was only when he threw out the threat that 
 there was a complete case, and that they 
 would force Theresa to give evidence against 
 Michel, that the girl trembled. She knew a 
 little of the justice of the law in a land where 
 witnesses are bought and sold. 
 
 The little woman looked at her, then at 
 Mrs. D'Cruz, and made up her quick 
 American mind. 
 
 " I guess Theresa is better away from here 
 for a while," she broke in on Mrs. D'Cruz' 
 fierce words. " She is coming home with me 
 just now, "and without pausing for discussion 
 
 68 
 
THE FEET ON THEjSTAIR 
 
 or permission, she took Theresa towards the 
 stairs. As she went, Upendro babu snatched 
 at the girl's arm savagely. Without any 
 heat, but quite decisively, the little woman 
 struck his hand down. 
 
 " Justice does not strike that way, babu," 
 she said quietly, and went on. 
 
 Catherine Wilshaw had ever a calm force- 
 fulness which saved her from fanaticism, and 
 that Fate had taken her hand with which to 
 turn the page in Theresa's life was a good 
 omen for the girl's tired body and nerves. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 A RESPITE 
 
 " L'ame comme un ciel limpide, 
 Elle vient d'avoir quinze ans : 
 Volez vers 1'enfant candide 
 Purs papillons blancs." Coppee. 
 
 THE first days at Wilshaw's were hazy for 
 Theresa : even the mere relief from constant 
 squabbling brought a sense of stillness which 
 was stupifying. The sudden wrench from 
 Pierre Michel, too, whom she had seen every 
 day since her babyhood, adoring him more 
 with each, stunned her far more than did 
 Gopal babu's end, and the inquiries which 
 followed it. For Upendro babu's threat was 
 carried out, and the case was being pieced 
 together before Gopal was at the burning 
 ghat. Inquirers, too the advance guard of 
 human vultures which hover around every 
 Indian law case came to Wilshaw's for 
 Theresa. To all of whom little Mrs. Wil- 
 
 70 
 
A RESPITE 
 
 shaw sent the same unflinching " rasta 
 nay."* They should not torment the girl 
 until the law gave them some power over 
 her. Even when Digby Kinnaird, the 
 famous criminal lawyer dark as night, and 
 the father of Maurice Pereira, but successful 
 and bearing a Scotch name, and therefore 
 far removed from the chee-chee ruck of 
 Dhuki's Gully who had the case in hand for 
 the Nath Ghose family, swept down the 
 packed bazar in a noisy victoria to interrogate 
 Theresa, the answer was the same. Then, 
 seeing that the girl's health, never of the 
 strongest, was gradually breaking down 
 under the strain, Catherine Wilshaw sent her 
 away to Darjiling with her own children. 
 
 Two days later Mr. Wilshaw was able to 
 write that the evidence against her had been 
 withdrawn from the case at Kinnaird's 
 order. His wife, with a quicker wit than his 
 own, kept from the letter the common report 
 of the Lane, which would have driven the 
 girl to end her sick misery over the khud 
 that Kinnaird, ever suasible to rupees, had 
 been bought off the scent by Pierre Michel. 
 
 * Lit. No road not to be seen. 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 The Lane's ladies called him several sorts of 
 fool to expend so much without due return. 
 The case came up in the courts without the 
 name of any accessory before the fact, and 
 duly earned its quarter-column in the Anglo- 
 Indian papers and four columns odd in the 
 Bengali ones, a verdict of murder being given 
 against one Rozal Singh, mehtar, whom the 
 police were at present unable to discover. 
 Then Michel, for the first time since he came 
 to Calcutta, shut the shop and went over to 
 Chandernagore. He felt that, for awhile, 
 Dhuki's Gully would choke him, and he 
 would go where he could hear honest French 
 voices in place of chee-chee, and see good 
 French names to the streets even if Rue de 
 la Grand Arme and all the rest of them 
 were but village roads cut between thickets 
 of bamboo and tamarisk, the sparse houses 
 and the blue-trousered bits of importance 
 patrolling the ways only marking out the 
 desolation of this tragic travesty of a posses- 
 sion. The tension of years was broken at 
 last, and the guardianship which he had kept 
 over Theresa could never be resumed, at 
 least on the same lines. So he had given 
 his darzis holiday for a week, and come to 
 
 72 
 
A RESPITE 
 
 think out how he could well shape the girl's 
 future, knowing that stillness was assured at 
 Chandy. But on the third day he fled back 
 to Calcutta, afraid of the stillness : a man 
 does not often agree with the still places of 
 the earth after long sojourn in its crowded 
 ways. 
 
 He was, naturally, no nearer the solution 
 of Theresa's future than before, and, Eastern- 
 wise, decided to " wait and see." Mean- 
 while, he wrote to her, and she to him, and 
 by this means their lives still ran together a 
 good deal. For Theresa, Darjiling meant 
 such an utterly new life that she was for a 
 time more bewildered than glad with it. 
 
 The cleanliness and godliness of the 
 mission-house to which Mrs. Wilshaw had 
 sent her were equally emphatic, almost pain- 
 ful, to one brought up literally amongst 
 garbage, both mental and material. The 
 cleanliness she liked, and quickly adapted 
 herself to the various dainty American ways 
 of which even the missioners, being feminines, 
 could not rid themselves : the strict holiness 
 at times jarred her with its severity, so far 
 removed from the gaiety of the nuns when 
 away from their prayers. Yet she was 
 
 73 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 grateful for the gentleness and consideration 
 shown her, and made piteous efforts to be as 
 she knew these good women would have her 
 be ; but Pierre's teaching drew her back from 
 the chilly fervour of the new religion, and the 
 regular hours troubled her, accustomed as 
 she was to the spasmodic ways of the D'Cruz 
 household. After a few weeks they saw that 
 her lack of cohesion with themselves was 
 making her restless, and gave her part of the 
 music-teaching over at the school. The 
 result was not quite all the good women 
 anticipated : various distorted versions of the 
 cause of Theresa's coming up to the hills had, 
 of course, floated after her, and the "dark" 
 element in the school, to say nothing of the 
 country-born, made life dreary for her in the 
 fashion known to school-girls of every shade. 
 In the rains some of the wealthier mamas 
 came up, and the gossip grew from petty to 
 poisonous : the third-hand edition of it which 
 reached the mission-house caused the saintly 
 souls there to recall Theresa straightway 
 from the school. There for months they 
 struggled, honestly and bravely, with the 
 problem the problem which seems to have 
 an eternal future in India, as it has had a long 
 
 74 
 
A RESPITE 
 
 past what should be done with the poor 
 Eurasian that her purity and her loveliness 
 should not go down into the pit where is 
 gathered that of most of her sisters ? Even 
 with clever Mrs. Wilshaw's aid, they could 
 find no better solution than making her a 
 sort of upper-class ayah to the Wilshaw 
 children : to have sent her back to Calcutta 
 as such with her face would have been to 
 damn her, and when she was older she was 
 to train for a hospital nurse, they hoped. 
 
 So Theresa gradually fell into the new 
 ways, stifling her real self because she came 
 to think it must needs be evil as she was so 
 unlike these good people and the nuns. Yet 
 the soul of her cried out each hour for Pierre 
 Michel, and all he had meant in her life, for 
 the soft French speech, the dreamy music, 
 the books which had done so much to lift her 
 out of Dhuki's Gully. He still sent her 
 books, but the charm had gone from them 
 when there was no Pierre to discuss them 
 with her. In the cold weather she went 
 down with the children, living with the Wil- 
 shaws as one of themselves, and tasting more 
 happiness than she had done since the days 
 before the problem forced itself upon her. 
 
 75 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 Michel came to the house most evenings 
 with his violin, and Theresa learnt a little of 
 what a home might be as far, that is, as 
 any place can be a home out East, where 
 there is so much of what would be called 
 luxury in England, and no comforts whatso- 
 ever. 
 
 The D'Cruz flat she only visited once, in 
 company with Mrs. Wilshaw, and found her 
 mother in a tearful mood, consequent on a 
 " drunk " two days previously. The dirt and 
 disorder were far worse than ever, the tribe 
 falling through their clothes (Theresa me- 
 chanically tucked in the ragged end of a 
 sleeve as she spoke to the youngest), and 
 Mrs. D'Cruz, passing from maudlin senti- 
 ment to muddled recrimination, completed 
 the helpless squalour of the place. Dominic 
 D'Cruz was, mercifully, not at home. 
 
 Mrs. Wilshaw took the girl away after a 
 brief while. 
 
 " I guess you had better keep away from 
 her the rest of the cold weather, Theresa," 
 she said as they reached the bazar, " I don't 
 think visiting her does any good to either of 
 you." 
 
 And so Theresa saw almost as little of 
 
A RESPITE 
 
 her old home as when she was at Darjiling. 
 Dominic called several times at the mission- 
 house, and showed himself to be in a state of 
 holy joy over Theresa's conversion as he 
 persisted in terming it leaving the girl, and 
 Mrs. Wilshaw herself, in a state of most un- 
 righteous disgust with him. He had always 
 been able to raise wild, impotent anger in 
 Theresa, where others only produced slow 
 scorn. 
 
 When she went back to the hills in April 
 she was almost content with life, so eagerly 
 had she caught at those stray hours with 
 Michel and taken every atom of gladness 
 from them. The sense of expectancy was 
 somewhat lulled ; she no longer waited fever- 
 ishly for each turn of the wheel, although she 
 knew clearly enough that this was not her 
 life as it would be lived to the end. She 
 waited, doing her little everyday work almost 
 happily, her heart fixed on next cold weather 
 and the daily sight of Pierre . . . and the 
 wheel, revolving steadily, brought her wait- 
 ing to an end in due course, by a letter from 
 Dominic D'Cruz, telling how her mother, 
 after three-quarters of a bottle of whisky, 
 had attempted climbing on to the roof, and 
 77 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 had gone from the edge of the coping into 
 the Lane below. 
 
 Theresa had no tears she was, above all, 
 no hypocrite but a feeling akin to fear 
 gripped her hard as she watched the first 
 stone loosen of the existence which had at 
 least sheltered her and given her peace. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE CURSE OF COLOUR 
 
 "On them alone was the doom of pain, 
 
 From the morning of their birth, 
 On them alone the curse of Cain 
 Fell, like the flail on the garnered grain, 
 And struck them to the earth." 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 " You are prettier a lot prettier, Theresa 
 but you want to laugh more. They have 
 made you too solemn up there." 
 
 He looked at her with admiration that was 
 too bold to be pleasant, at least to Theresa, 
 and, noting the flush that swept her bent 
 neck at the words, he laughed softly. 
 Maurice Pereira's laughter generally held a 
 touch of contempt. His voice, harsher than 
 most Eurasians' as a rule, was too gentle to 
 be safe just now : his eyes, fixed on the side 
 sweep of the girl's lovely throat, seemed to 
 be burning their way through her body and 
 79 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 changing its tint from olive to pink and again 
 to crimson. 
 
 She kept her face steadily on the linen 
 coat of Dominic's which she was mending, 
 and was silent. 
 
 Malice that was feminine in its pettiness 
 sounded in his next words : he knew how to 
 sting Theresa into speech. 
 
 "See then, my flower, why are you 
 vexed ? " 
 
 ' Hush ! " cried the girl passionately, 
 lifting her face to meet his and dropping it 
 as suddenly : the mockery of Pierre's voice 
 and manner had stung her as would nothing 
 else. 
 
 " I thought you were so fond of the name 
 you seemed so as if you liked it," he pulled 
 himself up at the slip and went on more 
 carefully, but with ever-present mockery. 
 " Shall I call you Tessie, then ? No one 
 else calls you that" 
 
 He came a little nearer, and leaning one 
 arm on the coping looked down at her, a 
 look that spoke of speedy possession. He 
 was tall and, like so many of his type, hand- 
 some, with a beauty that can only be summed 
 up in the Italian morbidezza. His face was 
 
 80 
 
THE CURSE OF COLOUR 
 
 intelligent beyond any other chee-chee's in 
 the bazar, but it was an intelligence like his 
 father's, that could only conceive of itself as 
 a means to aid the body to greater indulg- 
 ence than the dull-witted ones could obtain. 
 Tall, handsome, intelligent and a weed. 
 
 The word lay in Theresa's mind as she 
 let her sewing fall to the ground and faced 
 him. She had heard it first in Darjiling, 
 spoken, carelessly and audibly, by a youngster 
 fresh from home and glorying in his own 
 clear-run blood and sturdy limbs, as the very 
 young are given to doing when first they 
 meet those who have had no chances but ill 
 ones. They were better-class Eurasian lads 
 from one of the schools too, at, whom the 
 term was flung. Theresa, with Dhuki's 
 Lane and its pariahs coming before her on 
 the instant, wondered if "weed" were not 
 too good for her people, and felt as if the 
 six-foot odd of young English complacency 
 swinging past her down the Ghoom road 
 had struck her. 
 
 She had warded off this interview with 
 Maurice Pereira as long as possible ; now, 
 with a shiver, she knew that she must answer 
 him, and must struggle against both his 
 
 81 F 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 passions and his brain and alone. Pierre 
 Michel could not help her against Pereira, 
 who had laughed openly at the skilful 
 attempts to get him into a lawyer's office 
 in Bombay, answered with foul Bengali 
 Pierre's passionate appeal to him to leave 
 Theresa in peace, and chosen worse words to 
 scatter round the Lane when Pierre escorted 
 Theresa to make bazar, or took her to mass 
 to which the girl now went, not from 
 religious motives, of which she had none, 
 but from sheer weariness of the ugliness 
 which surrounded her in all forms. Pierre 
 had never been inside the D'Cruz flat or 
 Theresa within his house, since she returned 
 to Dhukuria's Gully. It was the only way 
 of open refutation to the Gully's vicious 
 chatter. 
 
 That she had come back at all was a 
 mixed joy to Michel ; most of the time he 
 wished her away from that sink of Calcutta, 
 and could have kicked Dominic D'Cruz for 
 his whining, which had brought Theresa from 
 Darjiling, and from the beginning of her 
 training as a nurse. 
 
 She had hardly acknowledged to herself 
 the motive which made her break with the 
 
 82 
 
THE CURSE OF COLOUR 
 
 life which Mrs. Wilshaw and those at the 
 Mission had so earnestly tried to make for 
 her. Perhaps it was the very dulness of its 
 goodness which swept her back to Dhuki's 
 Lane ; perhaps it was hunger for Pierre 
 Michel and all he had meant in her life. 
 Openly she had called it duty, and certainly 
 there was an element of it ; Dominic, when 
 he had at last ended his lament for his 
 "dear lost wife," had wailed of the faulty 
 ways of Leola Maud, who, having achieved 
 a position as a drapery young lady, had 
 housekeeping notions even more sketchy 
 than those of the average in Dhuki's Gully. 
 Even making allowance for the exaggeration 
 which ran rife in all Dominic's sayings and 
 doings, Theresa could picture the shiftless 
 squalour of it all, and pitied the children. 
 
 When the inevitable happened and Leola 
 Maud, being a daughter of Vera D'Cruz, 
 followed the custom of her type to its fullest 
 extent, Theresa felt a sudden wave of pity 
 for Dominic himself, despite the contempt 
 she had for the fervid religiosity with which 
 he had cast Leola off after her straying, and 
 turned eyes of holy horror from the mire in 
 which he left her free to struggle. 
 83 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 And so, drifting back by these ways after 
 three years to Dhuki's Gully, Theresa found 
 found herself in the old life again, the old 
 squalour only the more intensified by her 
 knowledge of a clean and decent world. 
 Among the unchanged things was Maurice 
 Pereira, who came daily to the flat when he 
 knew Dominic would be away, dogged her 
 in the bazar, and had within a month of her 
 return asked her to marry him more in a tone 
 of demand than entreaty. 
 
 " Maurice," she said, as she dropped the 
 coat and turned to him, " you do not care for 
 me ; you would be less cruel if you did. You 
 only want me to help you along, to to get 
 
 you out of the Lane, and then " she 
 
 threw out one hand with a gesture caught 
 from Pierre. 
 
 "That is not true," he cried fiercely. " 1 
 love you, Theresa ; I have loved you all the 
 time, and I will get a home for you out of the 
 bazar. Listen, you shall go to England and 
 forget this life you hate. I am nearly 
 twenty, Theresa ; when I am twenty there 
 is to be an end of these few rupees a month 
 from my dear papa. I have made him 
 promise England, and he will keep the 
 
 84 
 
THE CURSE OF COLOUR 
 
 promise" with a hard laugh " I can make 
 his fat easy life all so uncomfortable if he 
 does not keep promises. I will be a big 
 lawyer as well as Digby Kinnaird, and I 
 will be good to you, Theresa, and make you 
 laugh more over there in England, where 
 no one will tread on us for being dark." 
 
 He paused, the long brown hand on the 
 edge of the coping twitching, the black 
 eyes fixed on the girl hungrily ; there was 
 no doubting the truth of his first words at 
 least. 
 
 " I am sorry, Maurice," she answered with- 
 out looking at him, " but it is all quite, quite 
 impossible I do not want to go with you, 
 even to England. Please do not talk of this 
 again and and do go now." 
 
 " You want to stay here in the Gully, 
 because Michel might take you back after 
 all ? Or is it Leola you are thinking " 
 
 " How dare you ! How dare you say such 
 things to me ! " She sprang up, her face 
 passion-pale, her mouth quivering. " Do you 
 think to say such things will make me marry 
 you ? I do not love you I do not even like 
 you, and I will never marry you or any other 
 in the Lane." 
 
 85 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 She hesitated at the "half-caste" Pereira's 
 laugh of contempt emphasised the pause. 
 
 " You are getting proud then, Miss D'Cruz 
 you were always ashamed of your own 
 people." Theresa did not answer ; she was 
 looking at a baby monkey the property of a 
 neighbouring babu family as it made its 
 way across the packed houses and came to a 
 pause on the opposite roof, a matter of a 
 hand-stretch in that quarter of Calcutta. It 
 watched, with keen face puckered, the narrow 
 slip of stone which jutted from the D'Cruz 
 living-room and was called by courtesy a 
 verandah, judging the distance for a spring. 
 Monkeys always reminded Theresa of an 
 ancient Goanese in the Lane, whose evil 
 puckered face was never missing from 6 
 o'clock mass, and whose language in the bazar 
 by 8 A.M. was lurid. When she answered it 
 was quietly, almost sadly. 
 
 " No, Maurice, I am not ashamed of my 
 people for most of them I am sorry and I 
 want to help some of them by staying here. 
 I think perhaps it might be easier for the 
 
 others if some of us were more " she 
 
 paused, confused at her own assumption of 
 goodness. 
 
 86 
 
THE CURSE OF COLOUR 
 
 Pereira caught her meaning quickly 
 enough. 
 
 " Oh, you being a saint will never make 
 the others holy, Theresa. Do you think 
 anyone could be good for long in this ? " He 
 swept his hand out to the Lane, with the 
 piles of garbage in its only path, a broken 
 gutter running filth before the open doorways, 
 the cramped houses with their glimpses of 
 unkempt, foolish-faced women (except where 
 they were vicious). 
 
 The monkey, which was clinging to the 
 roof above their heads now, had hardly a 
 worse face than many of these living tokens 
 of a conquering race's stray pleasures. On 
 each of them was stamped, above even the 
 worst viciousness, the aimlessness of the low 
 half-caste, which marks so clearly the whole 
 tragedy of their existence ; they have sprung 
 from femininity, in the mass, and in that lies 
 their doom. For womanliness is the touch 
 of Heaven, but femininity is futility. 
 
 " The people at the mission-house are 
 always good," Theresa said slowly, "and 
 they have the bazar life all round them, and 
 they are not rich, and they go to no tamashas, 
 but they are always glad and good. If oh, 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 Maurice, if we all talked less we might be 
 better it is all evil talk and scandal and 
 idleness here." 
 
 She looked up at him, but Pereira was 
 careless of the Lane's ways 
 
 " You will not mend the Lane, and with me 
 you would be away from them all, and be a 
 lady in England. Bah ! you have no ambition 
 none." He jerked out the words fiercely, 
 staring at her from under his heavy lashes. 
 
 The monkey, swinging idly from the corner 
 pillar, foolishly judged the sudden pause in 
 the talk to be his opportunity ; he came down 
 in two bounds and, landing at Pereira's feet, 
 clawed at his bootlaces, the lithe little body 
 twisted round the man's foot much as a play- 
 ful kitten's might be. Pereira struck at it 
 savagely with his other foot ; it gave a howl 
 of pain and was gone, hand over hand, to the 
 ground below, chattering as it went. Theresa 
 watched it go it had often come to play on 
 the verandah when she was there. As it 
 disappeared she said with some contempt, 
 " What need had you to kick it ? That is 
 your way our way we kick the things that 
 are beneath us, and we never get level with 
 anything above us." 
 
 88 
 
THE CURSE OF COLOUR 
 
 She stooped wearily and picked up her 
 sewing. 
 
 " I must go in now it is time to begin the 
 cooking, "she said abruptly, "and remember, 
 Maurice," turning in the doorway, " I have 
 answered you now leave me in peace." 
 
 89 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 A WAY SET OUT OF HELL'S MOUTH 
 
 " II regarde 1'ingenue 
 Et lui fait baisser les yeux : 
 Volez vers la vierge emue, 
 Doux papillons bleus." 
 
 Coppee. 
 
 A THIRD-RATE violin, twanging out the tune 
 of a popular cake-walk popular in England, 
 that is, three years previously seemed to 
 stir the choking atmosphere to greater heat. 
 The shuffle of feet across the single room 
 and verandah, which served as ball-room, 
 kept on more or less steadily, with frequent 
 breaks as couples fell out of the sardines-in- 
 a-box dance, and retired, panting, to the room 
 where refreshments and fat mamas were set 
 out in rows. Gradually the tunes and the 
 dancers grew less violent, A June night in 
 Calcutta is apt to quell the energy of even a 
 chee-chee wedding party. The romping 
 
 90 
 
A WAY OUT OF HELL'S MOUTH 
 
 "dance" changed to a slow waltz, then gave 
 place to a halting performance on a squeaky 
 banjo. The voice which went with the banjo 
 was a fair one when one put aside the false 
 accents, and the song was a gem a plaintive 
 old air which brought to one's mind the rose- 
 edged path of an English country-house, with 
 a fair-haired girl in blue muslin playing on a 
 harp by the open window. A "dark" lad 
 was singing it now on the verandah of a Cal- 
 cutta back street, among a company of varied 
 duskiness. He was bending towards a book 
 to read the words a thick quarto with mar- 
 bled binding, which held all the airs in favour 
 in early Victorian days, most of them with 
 harp accompaniment. On the fly-leaf was a 
 name to match, in a thin Italian hand, "Grace 
 Marley," and a pre-mutiny date. Julian 
 Demant, the player, had picked it up for a 
 few annas in the bazar. The old song ended, 
 and polite entreaties being made for another, 
 he turned over the pages to one already 
 turned down, and with a conscious smile 
 began to thrum the air, looking steadily to- 
 wards the corner where Theresa D'Cruz sat. 
 Her cheeks flamed as the words reached her. 
 He was given to singing this whenever she 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 was present, and she had seen an English 
 copy of the song among Pierre's old music. 
 
 " Vien qua, Dorina bella 
 Vien qua, ti vo' abbracciar: 
 Non far la smorfiosella, 
 La Mama non chiamar ! " 
 
 He laughed across at her as he caught her 
 looking towards him, and saw the deepened 
 colour. 
 
 " Ah ! tu non sai mai, cara, 
 Quanto sia dolce amor, 
 Vieni, e quest' oggi impara 
 A consolar-ti il cor, 
 A consolar-ti il cor ! " 
 
 The mocking air ended amid a buzz of 
 society thanks, offers of an iced peg, and a 
 call on Theresa for " a piece." For this was 
 society of sorts, being a degree or two higher 
 than the Dhuki's Lane section. Theresa had 
 been asked partly out of pity, partly for her 
 face, and again because "poor Julian really 
 would have her," as his aunt, fat, good-natured 
 Mrs. Mclveray, the hostess, explained to the 
 guests, who, many of them Dharamtolah * 
 
 * A second-rate quarter of Calcutta. The 
 term is applied in contempt to the chee-chees, 
 who are fond of acquiring Scotch surnames. 
 
 92 
 
A WAY OUT OF HELL'S MOUTH 
 
 Scotch, looked askance at a Dhuki's Gully 
 dweller. She had made the explanation one 
 of her stock remarks to the guests after they 
 had exhausted the glories of the marriage 
 ceremony that afternoon, and sorrowed with 
 her over the bride having to change such a 
 good name as Everina Mclveray for that of 
 Mrs. Claude Mendoza, even with Rs.5O a 
 month. Everina herself, glorious in white 
 muslin, pink ribbons and satin slippers, flut- 
 tered among the company somewhat like an 
 autumn butterfly, for her flowers had been 
 worn some hours and were in the last stage 
 of withering ; hair and ribbons were dis- 
 orderly, and one satin shoe showed a mud- 
 stain, the entire party having had to descend 
 from their dignity and their carriages in the 
 lane leading to the house, which was too 
 narrow to admit anything beyond a palki. 
 
 Theresa rose mechanically in answer to 
 the call ; the room, the glaring lamps, the 
 jarring voices and laughter, even the scent- 
 stifled atmosphere, were blurred for her : she 
 had been trying all the night to put away 
 from her the fact that she had been invited 
 to this party in order to encourage Julian 
 Demant, if not to receive a formal proposal 
 93 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 from him. Dominic D'CrUz had impressed 
 the fact upon her before she started, with 
 much wealth of religious language and some 
 passing allusions to the value of a settled 
 income of Rs. 40 per mensen. Sick as she 
 was of Dhuki's Gully, of Maurice Pereira, 
 and of the vain struggle to raise a soul in the 
 Gully to her level, the girl was in the listless 
 state in which one accepts the least of offered 
 evils. As she leant over the violin, her soul 
 was crying out for deliverance just to have 
 a clean start, a " white " life, away from all 
 this, and from the past which had damned 
 her before birth. Then, glancing round 
 while she was deciding what to play, she saw 
 one face looking at her, not with the vacant 
 or too-admiring stare of the others, but 
 attentively, with interest and admiration alike 
 respectful. It was a white face an English 
 boy, fair-haired and pink-cheeked, freshly 
 out by the mere look of him. Theresa 
 remembered that she had heard a vague 
 report from the bride's sister Nita that they 
 were to have three " gentlemen from 
 England " shop-assistants, all of them per 
 the groom, " who has so many nice friends." 
 She dropped her chin on the violin again, 
 
 94 
 
A WAY OUT OF HELL'S MOUTH 
 
 and broke passionately into music which the 
 second before was not in her thoughts 
 Elsa's prayer from " Lohengrin." All the 
 wild longing for release from her present 
 soul-stunting existence, for beauty of life, for 
 happiness, for love as known in the good 
 world of which Pierre Michel had told her, 
 swept through the notes, and made her 
 playing of a fineness which it seldom reached. 
 Elsa's cry for a deliverer was never echoed 
 with more intensity : as she reached the last 
 notes, with hope and despair together ringing 
 through them, her eyes saw only one face 
 among the blur of other faces, and into hers 
 came a look which matched the appeal of the 
 music. 
 
 " That is a pretty tune what is it, 
 Theresa ? " came the bride's high sing-song. 
 The girl answered mechanically, shaking her 
 head when others clamoured for more music 
 
 " Something we can sing to." 
 
 " Oh, let her alone," joined in Mrs. 
 Mclveray's short-breathed voice, "Theresa 
 is tired. You go and fetch her some 
 lemonade, Julian don't you tease her, Vera 
 
 now, Stella, you can sing without music. 
 I know you can." 
 
 95 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 She puffed around among the company, 
 trying to make things happy, and keeping 
 an eye on Julian as he piloted a glass to- 
 wards Theresa. Nothing delighted the good 
 woman more than a wedding : compatibility 
 and prudence were hard English words of 
 which she did not even understand the 
 meaning, and any other side of the matter 
 than that shown by rice and confetti and an 
 iced cake, white muslin dresses and the glory 
 of riding in a real carriage instead of a two- 
 pice tram, was unknown to her. It was, in 
 short, the chance of putting aside the sordid- 
 ness of her everyday life which appealed to 
 her just as Theresa fled to music to hide 
 from the futile surging of Dhuki's Gully and 
 from the ways of its dwellers, although the 
 girl would have been amazed to think that 
 she held anything in common with Mrs. 
 Mclveray. 
 
 As Julian reached her, she wondered, with 
 the desperation of a hunted animal, how long 
 she could keep him from the declaration 
 which she had been asked there to hear. 
 His first words gave no doubt that he judged 
 the immediate present the chosen moment. 
 
 " It is too warm here for you, Theresa 
 
A WAY OUT OF HELL'S MOUTH 
 
 we will go on the verandah. Aunt will find 
 
 us a corner where we can be quiet " he 
 
 broke off as he heard his name called vigor- 
 ously from the other end of the room by his 
 cousin, who wanted to find a certain song 
 among his collection. She was a handsome, 
 full-bosomed woman of twenty-three the 
 equivalent of thirty-eight in English years 
 who owned the name of Mavis and was now 
 Mrs. Fernandez. She had been a Mrs. 
 Mackenzie some five or six years back, wife 
 of a Scotch lad, who was junior engineer on 
 a coaster. The hot East on the Eurasian 
 side, that is caught him in its grip before 
 his second voyage down, and stifled all the 
 glad, free life out of him before he had made 
 a dozen trips. In his second year out he 
 had been married some ten months, and the 
 bitter lines round his young mouth set more 
 grimly each time he neared Calcutta he 
 missed his footing on a gangway, and " found 
 freedom." Apart from navigation, the Hugli 
 is the safest river in the world : it has no 
 awkward trick of giving up its dead. 
 
 As Julian Demant disappeared in the 
 crowd, Theresa dully heard the bridegroom's 
 voice telling her that this was his friend, 
 
 97 G 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 Mr. Philip Riall, "from Blackmore and Dale's, 
 you know," and the slow flood of colour 
 which always meant emotion with Theresa, 
 began to fill the olive face and neck. The 
 shyness set Riall at his ease when coquetry 
 would have chilled his provincial little soul 
 into stiff politeness. For the lad was very 
 young, and of an immaturity of body and 
 soul which made the plunging of him into 
 Calcutta, straight from a small provincial 
 town and a circle of strict Nonconformity, not 
 far from criminal. He was quite in his early 
 "grifftnhood," this being his first "kick-up, 
 as the other assistants termed it, and he was 
 rather too bewildered to be shocked as yet, 
 and above all, too amazed by Theresa's 
 lovely face to heed the others at all. 
 
 Thus, in his eagerness to please her and 
 relieve her shyness, he began to talk quickly, 
 and having but one topic of conversation, 
 himself, he had told her the main items 
 concerning his family and his life in Eng- 
 land by the time Julian Demant struggled 
 back to the corner and eyed him with 
 disfavour. 
 
 " Come, Theresa, now we will go on the 
 verandah," he said bluntly. 
 
 ' 
 
A WAY OUT OF HELL'S MOUTH 
 
 The tone of proprietorship angered the 
 girl. 
 
 " I do not want to go on the verandah. I 
 am going to stay here," she answered. 
 
 " You have soon made friends with the 
 young gentleman," came the swift sneer, 
 with an evil look at Riall, who, trying to get 
 out a reply forceful and yet dignified, stam- 
 mered into silence as Theresa rose, saying : 
 
 " I had better go, Mr. Demant, if you do 
 not know how to behave yourself." As she 
 crossed towards the stairs she had never 
 adopted the Eurasian habit of wearing a hat 
 at night Demant turned to continue the 
 quarrel ; then, on second thoughts, con- 
 tended himself with a final glare, and went 
 quickly after Theresa. 
 
 Riall, following, caught them up as 
 Demant was trying to force the girl's hands 
 into his : pushing the Eurasian aside he took 
 the girl's arm in a manner which was an odd 
 mixture of genuine tenderness and " shop- 
 walker " politeness. 
 
 And Theresa felt that curious longing to 
 lean against the boy's coat-sleeve and cry, 
 which is one sure sign of love. 
 
 Demant, after a few fierce words, sim- 
 
 99 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 mered down into sulkiness, and went back 
 to the house. It was one of those rains- 
 nights which in the late hours are almost 
 equal to an English September, and glorified 
 the back ways through which they passed. 
 To Theresa, the streets, the few natives or 
 chee-chees scurrying past them, and all her 
 past, present, and future were veiled in a 
 golden mist of glorious hope which had been 
 raised by the boy's hand as it touched hers. 
 She wished, dreamily, that they might walk 
 on and on, right out of her old world into a 
 new the world which is always new to the 
 newcomers into it which may remain new 
 always, only so few know the secret of its 
 path, and only blunder on to it by chance, 
 and quickly lose it again. 
 
 100 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE COMING OF HOPE 
 
 " That maddening wine of life, whose 
 
 dregs they drain 
 
 To deep intoxication : and uplift, 
 Like Moenads who cry loud Evoe" ! 
 
 Evoe" ! 
 The voice which is contagion to the 
 
 world." Shelley. 
 
 THE night merged into a day hardly less 
 delicious for Theresa. She lived again 
 through each small reminiscence of that walk 
 home, and sang softly over her work, a light 
 behind her eyes which had never been there 
 before. Pierre Michel, meeting her at the 
 corner of the Lane as she went to make bazar, 
 saw the new look, and suddenly felt, like a 
 cold wave across his whole body, how old he 
 was growing. 
 
 " What is it then, little one ? " he asked 
 presently, though he knew well enough what 
 had brought that look to her so suddenly. 
 101 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 To see it dawn some day upon her face he 
 had fought down the wild desire to make 
 her safe from Dhuki's Gully, and to be con- 
 tent with that other look of mere devotional 
 tenderness which she had always given him. 
 So it had come at last, the end of his waiting 
 and protection, and his flower was unfolding 
 in the sunshine of love. She gave him some 
 idea of the ending of the Mclveray party, 
 brokenly and with many blushes, and Michel) 
 being a gentleman, asked no more questions, 
 although he managed to make sundry in- 
 quiries later in the day concerning young 
 Philip Riall. 
 
 From Riall himself there came a note 
 that night, and Theresa's look of rapture 
 deepened over this, her first love-letter, for 
 all the stiff phrases and formality of it. He 
 had asked that he might call, but Theresa, 
 with the new wisdom of love, was fearful 
 for the effect Dhuki's Gully might have upon 
 him. So, at Pierre's suggestion, there were 
 three of them to make bazar next day, and 
 a few days later two to walk across the 
 Maidan, while the third went home with the 
 market coolie and his basket. Pierre, after 
 measuring Riall by speech and ways, decided 
 102 
 
THE COMING OF HOPE 
 
 that Theresa would be safe enough with him, 
 but the inevitable regret lingered that the 
 brain and heart which he had taught, the 
 
 o 
 
 lovely body which he had so reverenced, 
 should, for good or ill, come to this end. 
 
 "A good-looking nonentity," was his sum- 
 ming-up of the boy: he would never hurt a 
 wife by deed he hardly looked to have in- 
 tellect enough to hurt by words, in Michel's 
 judgment, and after all, if his little one had 
 respect and some tenderness, she might be 
 happy. But the aristocrat in Michel, still 
 keen, for all his years on the outer edge, 
 rebelled at the thought of a bourgeois, a 
 " counter-jumper," taking his treasure. 
 
 For Theresa there were no defects in 
 Philip Riall. She had given herself to him 
 unreservedly, with the glad passion of a girl 
 made ior love who had hitherto been starved, 
 looking for no faults in her idol, incapable as 
 yet of finding any, content with this gradual 
 entry into love's kingdom while he was by 
 her side, merging herseif willingly into his 
 lesser nature, after the foolish but customary 
 fashion of good women, and building a world 
 of rosy hopes about her which like some 
 iridescent bubble would break at the fall of 
 103 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 even one tear upon it. Never having known 
 a white man except Pierre, who from his 
 years in the bazar hardly counted, the girl 
 was the more ready to glorify Philip Riall 
 merely because he was pucca white and 
 therefore one of a higher race, and capable 
 of any form of greatness. The fact that he 
 was able and anxious to take her out of 
 Dhuki's Gully was in itself almost sufficient 
 cause for adoration. She had the average 
 Eurasian's vague ideas as to the earning 
 capacity of the European, and thought that 
 the future would be quite English, lifted out 
 of the social mire of " dark " life. She had 
 no calculation in her love, such as would 
 inevitably exist with the average Eurasian 
 who was "dark through"; but she pictured 
 a cleanness, physical as well as social, a 
 tender gaiety, an uplifting from all sordid- 
 ness, in the new life. The dream retained 
 its golden hues all the more surely since there 
 were hindrances to its fulfilment. Theresa 
 grown suddenly careful for another's opinion 
 on her home and people, lured Philip away 
 from Dhuki's Gully, even when it meant a 
 complete absence from her for that day. 
 They met in streets, or on the Maidan, in 
 104 
 
THE COMING OF HOPE 
 
 the New Market, always with a buzzing 
 crowd several hundreds strong around them, 
 save when they turned into the Dharamtolah 
 church and found quiet. But that was only 
 once, for all Riall's inherited prejudices rose 
 up against this, his first sight of " palpable 
 idolatry," despite the fact that, like the 
 majority of provincial good young men, he 
 had not entered a chapel since coming to 
 India and was becoming acclimatised, men- 
 tall)', at the usual rapid rate. To Theresa, 
 who had no interest in the church's services 
 apart from her common interest in all things 
 beautiful, Philip's attitude of scorn towards 
 them was surprising. But she crushed down 
 any evidence of her surprise that she might 
 see' eye to eye with her idol, and henceforth 
 the church held no attraction for her. 
 
 They had spent July and August in this 
 desultory love-making not ideal months in 
 the vapour-bath atmosphere of Calcutta, 
 especially for a boy raw out. It was Pierre 
 Michel who, seeing the restlessness of the 
 two under that unnameable strain which leads 
 many a better man than Philip Riall to end 
 the sheer horror of living through August 
 and September, made the way easier for 
 105 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 their marriage by a gift of rupees to Dominic 
 D'Cruz, and consequent purchase of his non- 
 inteference with the two. For Dominic had 
 raised solid objections, in fervent Biblical 
 language, against the iniquity of " his dear 
 eldest daughter " being joined in mat rimony 
 to a young man of whom he knew nothing. 
 Theresa had steadily refused to bring Philip 
 into the house, or indeed into the Lane, and 
 every respectable maid and matron therein 
 joined in the loud outcry against her sinful 
 pride. At the beginning it had been blind 
 instinct with the girl, the desire of new love 
 to frame itself in the best surroundings for 
 the beloved's eyes : then, as love and know- 
 ledge alike deepened, came the swift feeling 
 of danger to her happiness, or at best the 
 coarsening of it if it were once placed on 
 the level of Dhuki's Lane courtships. Also 
 there was the knowledge, which came more 
 slowly but quite surely, that Philip Riall's 
 provincialism was steadily drawing him back 
 from things Eurasian into the "poor white" 
 circle, and that while the religious element, 
 ever a matter of environment with him, had 
 withered out of his life for lack of the 
 religious relations, both abstract and material, 
 1 06 
 
THE COMING OF HOPE 
 
 whereby it had been kept alive at home, the 
 elements of respectability and self-improve- 
 ment were being strengthened by his mere 
 daily routine in Calcutta. They had brought 
 him to a nice position behind the counter of 
 the county-town drapers, and pushed him on 
 to India, to the mingled gratification and 
 grief of his family. He had early visions of 
 a rapid rise to the post of manager ; perhaps, 
 seeing the dearth of drapery emporiums in 
 " the city of palaces," he himself would some 
 day build another. So, as is usual, his little 
 ambitions were filling much of the man's life, 
 and so levelling his emotions leaving, in- 
 deed, only one side of his nature to be 
 wrought upon by love. The woman, mean- 
 while, after the manner of women all the 
 world over, narrowed that world to just one 
 man, and dreamt that hopes would all become 
 realities, and never having had a conventional 
 religion, glorified this man and worshipped 
 him, heart, body, and soul, because for all 
 the foolish reasons which cause women to 
 adore a man who is merely ordinarily affec- 
 tionate to them, and who is not fit to take 
 possession of their hands, much less of all 
 they yield so gladly. 
 
 107 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD 
 
 " Love wakes us once a life-time each 
 
 We lift our heavy eyes and look, 
 And lo ! what one sweet page can teach 
 
 We read with joy then close the book ; 
 And some give thanks, and some blaspheme, 
 And most forget." 
 
 Coventry Patmore. 
 
 THE flat was the smallest thing in flats, even 
 in a city proverbial for cramped space in the 
 " poor white " quarters. It was in a side 
 street off Bentinck Street, swarming with a 
 population even more mixed than that of 
 Dhuki's Gully, which was, after all, a place 
 where the proportion of white in the black- 
 er vice versd was all that made any differ- 
 ence in its dwellers. In Biswa's Lane the 
 distinction was sharper, the resultant existence 
 more crude. Jostled on every side by the 
 bootmakers, Chinese to a man and not 
 108 
 
GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD 
 
 exactly ideal neighbours, there was on the 
 average a different race on each floor of the 
 Biswa's Lane flats. The one thing in common 
 with them was their poverty, for each would 
 have quitted the Lane on the instant had 
 means permitted. There were Eurasians of 
 varying darkness, " poor whites," Armenians, 
 Jews and Greeks. Over them all lay the 
 cloud of squalor which hid personal defects 
 while revealing in glaring detail those of one's 
 neighbours. On the close air of the crowded 
 street, narrow enough for an English slum- 
 court, an odour of garlic and ghee prevailed ; 
 the Chinaman's fondness for onions reeking 
 in frizzling fat accounted for it largely. Yet 
 it was, apart from the Chinese, whose code is 
 a thing not to be judged by other standards, 
 a rather respectable quarter compared with 
 Dhuki's Gully, and Michel hoped that it 
 would be but a temporary shelter for his 
 flower. Riall he judged to be a young man 
 bound to get on, and although inwardly he 
 scorned the lad's little ideals, his bourgeois 
 ways of speech, his occasional grand airs, 
 caught from contact with Messrs. Blackmore 
 and Dale's patrons, yet he trusted him as to 
 the fulfilment of his duty towards a wife, even 
 109 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 if he were mentally incapable of responding 
 to all Theresa's passionate devotion. Eager 
 to please him in all things, and herself piti- 
 fully anxious to cut off all connection with 
 the old life and the "dark" taint which lay 
 in every part of it, the girl was only too glad 
 to promise renunciation of old ties, even to 
 the extent of never entering the Lane again 
 after the marriage. 
 
 " You see, Tessie, they're not my style, 
 those people down your bazar they're not 
 yours, either, are they ? I don't want my 
 friends to know about you coming from 
 there" with a jerk of the head towards 
 Dhuki's Lane. They were walking across 
 the Maidan in the early morning, a few days 
 before the marriage, Theresa dreamy with 
 sheer happiness, Riall full of arrangements 
 and importance, and chafing under the 
 restriction of love-making in Calcutta, which 
 is hardly an ideal place for a bourgeois court- 
 ship. Riall's notions of love-making were 
 suburban walks in the evening, which began 
 at the average distance each from each, and 
 ended arm in arm and in Calcutta, even 
 poor whites don't do that kind of thing. 
 Occasional evenings together at a theatre or 
 1 10 
 
GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD 
 
 trips on early closing days, were also among 
 his ideas but a shop-assistant's salary does 
 not run to theatre-tickets in Calcutta, even 
 were the theatre open, and there is no place 
 to "trip" to out of that great glaring city. 
 So Riall, feeling defrauded of his courtship, 
 and with the indescribable irritation of a first 
 hot weather and rains firmly upon him, was 
 rushing into marriage as much from physical 
 vexation as from love, to which was added 
 the set determination to "go on with it," 
 induced by his employer's careless advice to 
 " steer clear of chee-chees and not make a 
 fool of himself." 
 
 A slight shadow came across the girl's face 
 as she heard his ultimatum. 
 
 " I do not want the others, Philip I never 
 want to see any of them again but but 
 Pierre will he not come to see us ? " she 
 asked timidly. In her mind had always been 
 happy thoughts of evenings at home, with 
 her husband and Pierre there, and all the 
 sordid life forgotten. 
 
 Riall answered sharply, his words jarring 
 even Theresa's adoration. 
 
 " No ! I don't want that man coming 
 after you ! " Then, even his dulness npting 
 ii i 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 er quick flush, he added, " I mean I don't 
 want you to have anything more to do with 
 Dhuki's Lane, Tessie. You're going to be 
 my little wife, you see, and I want you to 
 be all mine, not share you with that crowd." 
 He ended lamely, but the tender look had 
 come back into his handsome face, the 
 softer tone to his voice, and she was content 
 again. 
 
 The arrangements for the wedding, or at 
 least such of them as leaked out to the Lane, 
 scandalised that quarter from end to end. 
 Such a marriage was indeed no marriage, 
 and savoured somewhat of the foolish, if not 
 improper ! It was, however, the matrons 
 agreed on the roof-tops and at bazar-corners, 
 only what one would expect from a young 
 madam like Theresa D'Cruz, who had been 
 spoilt out of all right ways from babyhood by 
 Pierre Michel. People who made such a 
 hole-and-corner marriage must surely have 
 something to be ashamed of, said the evil 
 tongues, and the poor young man who was 
 being tricked into this bad bargain was to be 
 pitied. All of which Pierre guessed at : 
 some of it Theresa heard, and, such was her 
 exaltation, hardly heeded. That a private 
 112 
 
GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD 
 
 marriage was so utterly opposed to all 
 Eurasian ideas was sufficient to make it 
 acceptable to Theresa, and since both Philip 
 and Michel advocated it, the plan became 
 perfect in her eyes. 
 
 So it was in an ordinary " ticca gharri," 
 with only Mr. and Mrs. Wilshaw to accom- 
 pany her, that Theresa left Dhuki's Gully, 
 with crowds and finery, rice and confetti, 
 glare and sordid gaiety, all swept aside, to 
 meet Philip Riall at the little chapel where 
 " they two were to be made one " in this 
 case, as in so many, a pitiful travesty of 
 words, since there are so few whom it is 
 possible to make one in heart and soul, as 
 well as body. The night before, Theresa 
 had faltered a last plea for Pierre to be pre- 
 sent, and paused in the request at sight of 
 Riail's darkening face. 
 
 So that it was only by letter that Michel 
 said good-bye to the flower which he had 
 raised with such care, and which another was 
 to pluck. With the few French words came 
 flowers, the first he had ever given her since 
 she was a child ; and Theresa gathered them 
 all to her breast much as a mother might a 
 dying child, and crouched against the bed, 
 113 H 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 the dry sobs shaking her. The exquisite 
 tenderness of the farewell from this " poor 
 white " tailor, who was still a French gentle- 
 man, had given her the first faint wonder 
 it was hardly a doubt if her hopes would 
 indeed be realised. The vision of the man 
 whose devotion had made her what she was, 
 living out the rest of life alone, came to hurt 
 her often during the morning while she went 
 through her house-work for the last time, or 
 listened to Dominic's complaints of herunfilial 
 conduct. 
 
 It was late afternoon before they were 
 married, leave of absence for such trivial 
 affairs not being the same for a newly-arrived 
 shop assistant as for C.S. men and others on 
 the high rungs of the ladder ; and the grant- 
 ing of the following day's leave had been 
 made grudgingly by a burra sahib who re- 
 gretted that the lad must needs " make a 
 mess of it." To Theresa all things were a 
 blur from the moment that she entered the 
 chapel until she found herself in the gharri 
 that was to take them home ; then, with shut 
 eyes, she leant back in the carriage, remem- 
 bering only that she no longer bore a hated 
 chee-chee name, that her husband's arm was 
 114 
 
GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD 
 
 round her, and that henceforth she was 
 sheltered. 
 
 The narrow rooms of the furnished flat 
 which meant table, bed, three chairs, and 
 some matting, and did not include such 
 luxuries as punkahs looked a little dreary 
 as they entered them, it being the grey hour 
 before night really fell. As the purdah 
 dropped behind them Philip kissed his wife, 
 almost mechanically. He felt awkward, 
 hardly realising that this was reality, so vast 
 a change was it from that smug suburban life 
 he had so recently lived. Then he began, 
 quite as mechanically, to arrange the few 
 thing she had brought from Home, and which 
 had been dumped down that morning by a 
 coolie. Theresa passed into the other room 
 and took off her hat. Then she stood, rigid, 
 expectant, her breathing almost stilled from 
 the intensity of her emotion, her eyes burning 
 with a light which showed that the whole of 
 the woman in her was awake at last, body 
 and soul, and that Pierre's tender cling- 
 ing flower was indeed in the glory of full 
 bloom. 
 
 She was still standing motionless when 
 Philip lifted the purdah. At sight of him 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 she moved towards him with a slow gliding 
 that hardly seemed volition, and " Philip," 
 she said in a low cry that was heavy with 
 passion, " Oh, Philip ! " 
 
 And all the man in him awoke for awhile 
 as the beautiful face was raised to his. . . . 
 And for a few hours Theresa knew that 
 short-lived, lovely thing which men call per- 
 fect happiness. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 ON THE INSIDE EDGE 
 
 " Joy's a subtil elf, 
 
 I think man's happiest when he forgets 
 himself." Cyril Tourneur. 
 
 A " COLD WEATHER " means as much, pos- 
 sibly more, to the average dweller on the 
 edge of the white life in India as to the 
 artistocrats who experience little of the dis- 
 comfort of the hot months. The marks of 
 gaiety, of the temporary return to a life 
 wherein the sun does not loom as the all- 
 important factor, are necessarily of a lesser 
 order than those evinced by the butterflies of 
 Indian life, who flutter about its flowery paths 
 so gaily that they manage to forget the ugly 
 moth-tribe which makes their own existence 
 possible. Still, the gaiety is there, in one 
 form or another, and even for those poor things 
 the domiciled "poor whites," and for the pucca 
 English who are far too straitened to afford 
 117 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 such luxuries as four-rupee theatre tickets, 
 there are mild excitements to cause the de- 
 licious feeling that even they on the inside 
 edge are sharing the gaiety of the magic inner 
 circle. 
 
 Therefore in streets far removed from 
 Government Place, there was an unusual 
 humming of voices in dining-rooms and of 
 banjoes on verandahs, and an air of happi- 
 ness, real or otherwise, lay over all. 
 
 Theresa, practically as new to this phase of 
 life as if she had just arrived from Home, was 
 in a state of bliss almost pathetic in its great- 
 ness. She found herself at various tamashas 
 with her husband, on a level with people who 
 were white, or at least country-born, where 
 the " dark " element was in a minority, or 
 did not appear at all, and the sense of aloof- 
 ness from the old life quickly deepened. 
 She began for the first time to live her girl- 
 hood, to be spontaneously gay, to laugh at 
 trifles, and to lose the shadow that had lain 
 across her face and made its beauty tragic. 
 
 The gracious change in her bewildered her 
 
 boy-husband at first ; then he began to take a 
 
 boy's pride in his new possession, since others 
 
 admired it, and gave her praise accordingly, 
 
 U8 
 
ON THE INSIDE EDGE 
 
 which Theresa, in the depths of her adoration, 
 took to be evidences of increased affection. 
 
 The little flat in Biswa's Lane shut in the 
 world for Theresa, and so completely shut 
 out any other worlds that Dhuki's Gully was 
 forgotten and even Michel was only a vague 
 remembrance. The dream an exotic raised 
 from an insubstantial soil and, like most 
 tropical flowers, unscented with the perfume 
 of mutual quiet devotion was too frail a 
 thing to endure long. The mere press of 
 ordinary life against it, the fret of insufficient 
 rupees to carry on even a flat in Biswa's Lane, 
 were sufficient to change the dream into a 
 grim reality. Marrying as they had done on 
 nothing in hand and a scanty salary, it was 
 inevitable that they should soon fall under 
 the bane of India borrowing, and so digging 
 the grave of all progress and peace. The 
 chit system clutched them before the first 
 month of their life was over, and by the 
 succeeding ist. of the month came several of 
 those dread bits of paper, which seem so 
 small when signed for odds of grocery, drinks, 
 or drapery, and bulk so largely when seen 
 against the pitiful salary which has to pay 
 them. 
 
 119 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 To Theresa, whose life had been spent amid 
 incessant money difficulties, these smaller 
 worries of their marriage did not appear 
 worth fretting over, and she put the chits 
 aside with hardly a pause in the ripple of 
 happy laughter with which she had opened 
 the first of them the bill for a new dress, 
 the only new dress bought by her boy- 
 husband. The other pucca gown which she 
 owned her wedding dress had been given 
 her by Pierre Michel ; the rest of her ward- 
 robe consisted of cheap cottons, faded and 
 worn. The half-caste's fatal easiness, evinced 
 in all concerns of life, was, it would seem, 
 developing in one particular with Theresa as 
 she herself developed. 
 
 " I don't know how on earth we're going 
 to pay this lot," said Riall, fretfully, pushing 
 his chair back from the table and frowning. 
 Theresa caught the frown and the smiles 
 withered from her face ; must there come 
 clouds already over this bright new world 
 which she had built for herself ? It was such 
 a glorious morning too, and a Saturday, and 
 she had hoped for some little dissipation 
 together, if only a walk through Eden Gar- 
 dens. Philip, with the burden of marriage 
 
 I2O 
 
ON THE INSIDE EDGE 
 
 thrust heavily upon immature shoulders, was 
 thinking, with a boy's savage inconsequence, 
 of the good gay time now beginning for the 
 other fellows in the chummery the cricket 
 and races, the occasional nights at the 
 theatre, the little dinners which, fourth-rate 
 as they were, were yet so far ahead of the 
 " portion for one made to serve for two," 
 which arrived in a can, lukewarm, from a 
 neighbouring restaurant for their meal. The 
 grim fact that it is bad to be poor out East 
 when one is a sahib and should not be poor, 
 was dawning upon Riall, and also that the 
 salary which in England appeared so princely 
 had proved to be wholly inadequate for the 
 support of two in Calcutta. He glanced 
 round the narrow room and wondered if their 
 already narrow existence could be made 
 more so. Already they had dispensed with 
 punkahs, and there hardly seemed anything 
 remaining in the shape of luxuries. The 
 discussion ended, as do most concerning chits, 
 with a " things must go on as they are " 
 decision, and Philip, morose and irritable, 
 went off to the shop after a kiss to his wife 
 the chillness of which hurt her throughout 
 the day. 
 
 121 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 At the shop one of the durwans handed 
 him a note a flimsy thing, bazar paper and 
 bazar writing. Riall's few words of faulty 
 Hindustani could not carry him through the 
 man's explanation that a small Eurasian boy 
 had left it. It held only a single line : " Ask 
 Theresa who killed Gopal babu ? " 
 
 That was all enough to make him blind 
 with doubt, and one suspicion crowding upon 
 another until he felt that he must choke if 
 he spent another hour among hosiery and 
 ties without knowing the truth from her. 
 
 Fortunately necessity held him close for 
 the day just as firmly as if he had been 
 occupied in making laws instead of selling 
 socks, and when he reached Biswa's Lane 
 the fierce and instant query had given place 
 to a firm determination to "have things out 
 with her after dinner." 
 
 Theresa was not, as she always had been, 
 standing within the first purdah to greet 
 him : the room struck him as chill and a 
 little disorderly, the nameless something 
 which spells home and a welcome, and which 
 kept Theresa busy during the hour before 
 his arrival, was missing. Riall, resentment 
 at her neglect overpowering his suspicious 
 122 
 
ON THE INSIDE EDGE 
 
 anger, pushed aside the inner purdah ; his 
 affection for his wife, which had never risen 
 beyond passion, made no allowance for any 
 failure in her affection and devotion. 
 
 Yet in the doorway even his dull, doubting 
 mind paused, and his eyes aided its dulness 
 to some clearer perception of his wife's worth. 
 
 She was lying across the bed, apparently 
 just as she had thrown herself down for the 
 afternoon sleep ; the hair, lying in long ripples 
 around her, hardly veiled as much as it re- 
 vealed and glorified her perfect beauty : the 
 thin cotton wrapper, faded and ill-made, was 
 but a foil to it. Riall sat down near the bed, 
 wondering why she had slept so late. He 
 had thought her looking somewhat heavy- 
 eyed recently, and the awkwardness of it all 
 if she were to be ill above all, the impos- 
 sible expense of it suddenly confronted 
 him. 
 
 But the power of that lovely face drew 
 even his smallness and selfishness from him- 
 Sitting beside that soft-breathed sweetness 
 which at least, he told himself fiercely, was 
 his, all his, he forgot everything else, even 
 that bazar-chit in his coat pocket, and when 
 at last Theresa awoke, and dreamily took his 
 123 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 hand within hers, with a look of such com- 
 plete love, adoration, and innocence as shook 
 his doubts from him for a time, he asked 
 her no questions, to his honour, but, taking 
 her other hand, kissed it with a rare tender- 
 ness. 
 
 124 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 HOPE'S SHADOW FEAR 
 
 " Ach, hiite sich doch ein Mensch, 
 wenn Seine erfullten Wiinsche auf ihn 
 herad regnen, und er iiber alle Maasse 
 frohlich ist." Fouque 
 
 IN the few weeks that followed, Theresa 
 walked on rose-leaf-covered paths, and the 
 light which dawned in the great eyes 
 glorified her face into still finer loveliness. 
 
 Riall, even when his tender mood had 
 passed, and he would have begun the in- 
 quisition as to Gopal babu, was made dumb 
 by that look and returned to his early infatu- 
 ation, burying doubt and suspicion in passion 
 for a time. To touch merely the fringe of 
 his wife's new happiness was beyond the 
 limits of his slow provincial mind, and 
 Theresa, fully conscious of Riall's aloofness 
 from her inner self, was yet too adoring 
 towards him, too proudly shy of her new joy 
 125 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 in life to reveal anything to him which he did 
 not discover for himself. She was content 
 to let things go softly along this new way, 
 a way which for her led always to a world 
 of tender dreams, so tender and rose-tinted 
 that one touch of real life, of Biswa's Lane 
 life, would inevitably crush them. 
 
 Dominic D'Cruz was, in a great measure, 
 the dealer of the first blow to her dreams. 
 Why he had left her in peace so long might 
 have occurred to Theresa, had she not put 
 the old life so completely behind her in her 
 absorption in Philip's life. She did not 
 think, even when her thoughts turned 
 towards Pierre, of the only possible reason 
 that Michel was making it worth Dominic's 
 while to leave her alone. The arrangement 
 suited D'Cruz very well, for he was in lower 
 water than ever soon after Theresa's mar- 
 riage. The Wesleyan Mission had followed 
 the way of the Franciscan one, although, 
 owing to Mr. Wilshaw's too-great store of 
 charity, there was no public prosecution this 
 time for the usual little discrepancies in his 
 accounts. The ultimate result, however, was 
 worse than when he posed as a penitent 
 sinner from the Andamans; there was no 
 126 
 
HOPE'S SHADOW FEAR 
 
 mission remaining now where his conversion 
 would have a marketable value, and D'Cruz 
 knew of no other steady way of money- 
 earning than these perfunctory jobs which 
 had been made for him with a view to keep- 
 ing his soul straight by means of light 
 employment. His thoughts naturally turned 
 towards the dear daughter who had married 
 a sahib, and whose duty and delight therefore 
 it would be to support her papa. Yet, 
 knowing Riall's very junior position, D'Cruz 
 had small hopes of great results from spong- 
 ing, however unpleasant he might make 
 himself, and was therefore all the more 
 relieved when Pierre Michel early made it 
 his affair to find out his intentions towards 
 those in Biswa's Lane, and to offer a weekly 
 dole in place of their fulfilment. But the 
 long drain of years had told upon Michel's 
 finances, and little as he used for his own 
 private needs, he found it increasingly diffi- 
 cult to hand over sufficient to D'Cruz. 
 There was a certain amount on deposit in 
 one of the banks : that was for Theresa, 
 absolutely and entirely, and was never to be 
 touched. He had thought of putting it into 
 her possession on her wedding day at first, 
 127 
 
then doubted if that were well, with an 
 unknown husband, at whose disposal she, in 
 her adoration, would inevitably place the 
 whole. So it remained in the name of that 
 slip of a girl who had had Pierre's young 
 love in the far-away days of his French life : 
 it was an odd fancy of his, bred partly out of 
 sentiment, partly of dislike to the name of 
 D'Cruz or any other Eurasian. In the easy 
 fashion which seems to infect all Europeans 
 out East, Michel kept the deposit's security 
 and the few currency notes he might have 
 by him in an old tin box in one corner of 
 his almirah : * of its possible loss he never 
 gave a thought, again in the European's 
 easy way, despite the Gully's reputation. 
 Theresa lay in his thoughts most of the 
 hours of the day, and all those of the night, 
 when the stifling atmosphere kept him on 
 the roof, an open book before him, a 
 smouldering cheroot in his hand, his eyes 
 turned towards that point of his life at which 
 he had lost Theresa, his mind plagued with 
 doubts of her present happiness. He had 
 never seen her since her marriage, and 
 knowing her English husband's command 
 
 * A wardrobe. 
 128 
 
HOPE'S SHADOW FEAR 
 
 that she should have no dealing with Dhuki's 
 Gully, he was too proud even to ask if she 
 were well. 
 
 The Bentinck Street region was far enough 
 removed from the Lane for there to be but 
 little chance of an accidental meeting, so he 
 ate his heart away in silence, being several 
 removes from the merciful stage when there 
 is dulness in place of pain, atrophy doing its 
 soothing work with heart and mind. Some- 
 times he wondered if it were worth it, this 
 long effort to delay the inevitable and keep 
 the fingers of that born sponger D'Cruz from 
 Theresa's new life. 
 
 The inevitable came some three months 
 after the marriage, when D'Cruz, only 
 wringing four rupees from Michel when he 
 had looked for ten, took himself to Biswa's 
 Lane. It was an hour of the morning when 
 he judged there to be no danger of meeting 
 Riall ; he thought he would make his re- 
 introduction to Theresa of a purely paternal 
 character at first. He came to a pause at 
 the purdah, and called softly ; there was no 
 answer, and pushing it to one side, he looked 
 in. The room, of the usual " poor-white " 
 type, with its pitiful attempts at Englishness 
 129 i 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 over-powered by the dak-bungalow aspect, 
 was empty, but the purdah was up at the 
 doorway of the other room, and at the far 
 side of it he saw Theresa. She was standing 
 beside the almirah, her hands lying across an 
 open drawer. As he looked, she lifted from 
 it a tiny garment of nainsook, and slowly, 
 reverently, put it to her lips, her eyes 
 shining, her whole face transfigured with the 
 glory of motherhood. 
 
 Dominic smiled as he called : 
 
 " Good morning, Theresa." 
 
 The hard see-saw voice struck the girl as 
 a rough hand might ; she dropped the bit of 
 muslin and shut the drawer before she 
 turned to him, with the instinct of a nesting 
 bird. 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " she asked. 
 " How dare you come here like this ? " 
 
 " That is not a nice way to speak to your 
 poor papa after all these weeks," he answered, 
 11 when I come such a long way to see how 
 you are." 
 
 Theresa's face hardened. She dropped 
 the bedroom purdah, and came into the 
 centre of the dining-room, saying with slow 
 passion : 
 
 130 
 
HOPE'S SHADOW FEAR 
 
 " If you want money, we have none none 
 we are as poor as many in the Lane. If 
 you only want to make trouble, you will fail. 
 My husband is good and he would not listen 
 to you ! " There was scorn and proud 
 defiance enough in her tone, but hardly the 
 accent of reality, and her eyes went anxiously 
 from D'Cruz to the little three-rupee time- 
 piece. He sat down and put his battered 
 straw hat on the table. 
 
 " It is pleasant to hear of this good hus- 
 band. I will stop and make friends with 
 him." 
 
 She looked at Dominic with desperation. 
 
 " We have not five rupees, and when the 
 i st. comes we already owe half the talap," 
 she said wearily. " My husband cannot keep 
 you we can hardly keep ourselves oh, go, 
 go, for pity's sake, and leave us in peace." 
 
 Dominic smiled again that monkey's grin 
 which from childhood had raised the worst 
 side of Theresa's nature. Since she was so 
 easily frightened, he would try his luck with 
 the husband too ; probably he would prefer 
 the burden of more borrowed money to that 
 of a Eurasian father-in-law of the lowest class. 
 
 The dignity due from an Englishman's wife 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 came to her aid. She moved away from him 
 in silence, hearing dully his continuous wail 
 concerning his poverty and loneliness, for 
 only lack of rupees had prevented him from 
 giving his dear family a happy home, and 
 driven him to lodge with low men of irre- 
 ligious habits. The family had "come upon 
 the parish," its Indian equivalent in the case 
 of the half-caste being the taking over of 
 waifs by sundry missions which by this 
 means justify their existence, and in some 
 measure lift from themselves the usual up- 
 country reproach that "a mission house is the 
 place where you strike the best whisky." 
 
 As it neared the tiffin-hour, Theresa's 
 calmness left her. She walked restlessly up 
 and down the little room, wondering what 
 Philip would think, what he would do. Her 
 heart had hungered of late for more affection 
 from him, for tenderness, for him to awake 
 and know the precious secret and share it with 
 her. She did not know that a second bazar- 
 chit had driven away Philip's returning affec- 
 tion, and that all his doubts and suspicions 
 had grown doubly dark from being kept from 
 the light of questioning. Pride and doubt 
 between them held him silent and set him 
 132 
 
HOPE'S SHADOW FEAR 
 
 more and more apart from his wife, who 
 tormented herself with the thought that her 
 own short-comings had caused Philip's waning 
 affection. 
 
 Finally she went from the room to the 
 head of the stairs ; their doorway stood in an 
 angle and was unobserved from the other 
 flats. Theresa had been accustomed to wave 
 a good-bye from this point until Riall's chilli- 
 ness had driven her to remain behind, with 
 tears instead of smiles. 
 
 Here Philip found her when he came up 
 to tiffin. It was mail-day, and the home 
 letters and their slurs upon his " black wife " 
 had angered him into a sort of defensive 
 affection for the girl whom they so scorned. 
 Something in the droop of her figure, the 
 pleading in her eyes, drew him to her and 
 thrust suspicion aside for a time. 
 
 " Philip he is there Dominic D'Cruz, 
 my stepfather, you know. He wants to make 
 trouble between us, I know, and oh ! Philip, 
 Philip," she clung to him in a last effort 
 to ward off the coming evil. 
 
 Sudden enlightenment came to Riall. 
 Was this then the source of those letters 
 which had poisoned his mind ? 
 133 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 He put Theresa gently aside and strode 
 into the room, firm and almost dignified in 
 his wrath. 
 
 " Get out of my place, will you ? " was his 
 greeting, and D'Cruz, who had expected 
 timid remonstrance and a final coming to 
 terms, slunk from the room with only a dull 
 whine concerning his poverty and his son-in- 
 law's cruelty. Theresa had followed Riall 
 and gone into the far room ; there, having 
 watched D'Cruz down the stairs, Philip found 
 her, face downwards on the floor the relief 
 had been too sudden after her long fear. He 
 had never known his wife faint before, and 
 anxiety replaced other feelings for the 
 moment. Then, as she fluttered back to 
 consciousness, he understood and was a little 
 awed ; her shy words fell away into a glorious 
 silence, in which D'Cruz and everything else 
 was forgotten, save that Philip knew and 
 loved her again, and that she was utterly 
 content. 
 
 134 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE FULL MIXTURE 
 
 " For in the hand of the Lord there 
 is a cup, and the wine is red : it is full 
 mixed, and He poureth out of the 
 same." Ps. Ixxv. 9. 
 
 " LITTLE flower come to me it is only to say 
 good-bye. I am dying to-morrow will be 
 too late. The bazar-writer is doing this I 
 wonder will it ever reach you little one and 
 if you will come for a last word with Pierre." 
 
 The flimsy bit of paper, with its bazar- 
 scrawled jumble of words, fell limply from 
 Theresa's hand. She started absently at the 
 pariah boy who had brought the chit, and 
 who knew nothing save that the writer had 
 told of a sick sahib and sent him in haste 
 in a bund-gharri to bring the mem-sahib to 
 him. 
 
 How could she go so ? And again, how 
 could she stay, with that cry from Pierre to 
 
 135 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 echo unanswered for the rest of life ? And 
 she had ached, ah ! how she had ached for 
 comfort from him, the only one who could 
 understand and give comfort. The deso- 
 lation that seemed to have settled upon her 
 life might all be changed by Michel, only he 
 was, it seemed, too ill to write, and Philip 
 would not believe any message she might 
 bring, she concluded wearily. For the cloud 
 of doubt had fallen around the Biswa's Lane 
 flat several months previously, and shadowed 
 the gladness in Theresa's eyes. Riall had 
 dropped hints and put indirect questions, all 
 without any word of his informant. Theresa, 
 in fear and misery at this raking up of the 
 past, had answered confusedly. To Riall, 
 whose passion had not stood the test of the 
 petty hourly economies of their life, her 
 confusion seemed damnatory. There was 
 no straight speech on either side, and as a 
 result, doubt reigned. 
 
 All Theresa's hope was in the coming life 
 which would drive away all misunder- 
 standings and restore all Philip's affection 
 to her, and that hope kept her patient, 
 tender, devoted as ever. As for Riall, he 
 had drifted back to his bachelor life of late, 
 136 
 
THE FULL MIXTURE 
 
 as far as his small store of rupees permitted, 
 and was seldom at the flat in his spare time. 
 To-night he had gone to dinner at a chum- 
 mery in Hastings. All the women, and most 
 of the men, with whom he came in contact 
 pitied him, and a larger numher of invitations 
 was the result. It was generally understood 
 that Riall had made a mess of things 
 with a chee-chee early, which was sufficient 
 to insure him sympathy, even if his own 
 Grecian-god handsomeness had not bound 
 every woman over to his side. What was 
 the precise nature of the " mess " was not 
 inquired into, even by the lower-caste assist- 
 ants : the few of them who had ever visited 
 the flat, remembering Mrs. Riall's beauty, 
 concluded that the trouble had been of the 
 usual order, and endeavoured to make 
 amends to the husband as far as lay with 
 them. Theresa, alone in the flat, occupied 
 with alternate stitching and tears, steadfastly 
 refused to think ill of Philip because of her 
 solitude, and declined the society of the other 
 flat-dwellers whenever it was offered. 
 
 After the first moments of bewilderment 
 her resolution was soon made. Go to 
 Pierre, answer that last pitiful cry, she 
 
 '37 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 must : surely, too, if she asked Philip to 
 follow, there would be no more misunder- 
 standings. Pierre, if too weak to write, 
 would tell him of her innocence in the case 
 of Gopal babu, and he would no longer think 
 hardly of her. 
 
 She put the bazar-chit close to the lamp 
 for Philip to see when he returned, and 
 wrote a little note of explanation and appeal 
 to put beside it a few tender words such as 
 women write to the man whom they have 
 elected in their souls to be first above all 
 the world. Then she turned down the lamp 
 and went towards the door. It seemed chill; 
 perhaps the night had at last caught up 
 some coolness which the previous day's in- 
 cessant deluge had failed to bring. She 
 shivered, and going back to the bedroom 
 took a shawl: for all the crying out of her 
 starved heart, the instant desire to soothe 
 Pierre's dying hours, she hesitated, with a 
 woman's longing for her home even such a 
 poor cold home as this. At the purdah she 
 paused again, turned with a swift passionate 
 movement, and stooping, kissed the pillows 
 of the bed. Lonely and dark as the narrow 
 room was, it almost held her from Michel 
 
THE FULL MIXTURE 
 
 and his need ; all of life that had been worth 
 the living passionate, satisfied heart-life 
 had been spent there, and memories dragged 
 her with all the power of dead things. That 
 drawer of wee garments too : she had always 
 spent the last hours of the lonely nights 
 looking at them, caressing them, longing for 
 the store to be larger, wondering how she 
 could twist six annas to do the work of a 
 rupee on the next purchase. Now she 
 would look at them to-morrow instead, she 
 told herself half-apologetically, in the fond, 
 foolish way of good women who are living 
 in the little world men never understand. 
 
 The gharri, waiting in Bentinck Street for 
 the practical reason that had it once got into 
 Biswa's Lane it would never have got out 
 again save backwards, was a bad specimen 
 even for Calcutta gharris, and was little in 
 advance of a hackery* either in pace or com- 
 fort. The rain had poured fiercely all the 
 previous day and part of that morning ; the 
 monsoon was making up for its three days' 
 delay, and there were still deep pools on the 
 uneven roads. As they got further on in 
 
 * Bullock waggon used for the transport of 
 goods. 
 
 139 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 that wilderness which lies behind the decent 
 exterior of Ward 13, the swaying of the 
 vehicle became an uneven jolting. Between 
 the pitch-black night, the pools into which 
 the horse splashed, and the obstacles over 
 which he stumbled, progress was slow, and 
 brought Theresa's nerves to the breaking 
 pitch. Then, while she tried to see through 
 the gloom where they might be, came a 
 sudden halt, and she heard the lad jump 
 down and call out that there was no going 
 on. A tree, washed out of the ground, lay 
 across the narrow lane, where few came in 
 gharris. It did not need the driver's voluble 
 explanation to show Theresa that a return 
 meant a half-hour wasted, while on the foot- 
 path she would have room to pass and soon 
 reach Dhuki's Gully. 
 
 She knew the district, and knowing its 
 worst was not afraid. Yet she watched the 
 gharri backing down the lane as if reluctant 
 to lose sight of it. It was after nine now, 
 and the dark streets were nearly empty, Cal- 
 cutta being a city whose "dreadful nights" 
 are not apparent in the public ways. She 
 slid from one lane to another unchallenged, 
 unmolested, which would have been an im- 
 140 
 
THE FULL MIXTURE 
 
 possibility in England. Just here she was 
 out of the line of grog-shops, with their train 
 of drunken European sailors. Across the 
 main bazar there was more life, and she 
 shrank into the shadows when any passed 
 her, dreading lest some old acquaintance 
 should see one who was now an English 
 mem-sahib, walking alone at such an hour. 
 As she turned down the narrow lane which 
 lay between the blind walls of native houses 
 and formed an entrance to the top of Dhuki's 
 Gully, there came a sudden movement in the 
 still darkness, and the deluge descended again 
 with gathered force. With dripping hair and 
 dress already sodden, Theresa stumbled over 
 the threshold of the tailoring shop, glad of any 
 shelter from the fierce torrents. There was 
 no street lamp close to Michel's, the whole 
 Gully boasting but two at that time, and the 
 dim flicker of light from a guttering little 
 kerosine lamp on the wall only showed her 
 the emptiness of the ground-floor room, used 
 partly as workroom, partly to store lumber. 
 It was owing to Pierre's illness, she supposed, 
 that no one had troubled to fasten the shop : 
 he generally did that at nightfall in the rains 
 and cold weather. Wondering somewhat 
 141 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 that there was no one waiting to bring her to 
 where Pierre lay, she turned to go into the 
 little room where the small store of cloth was 
 kept amid a litter of papers and books. 
 
 And, as she turned, from the upper room 
 came the sound of a bow being drawn sud- 
 denly across a violin, in passionate chords 
 that throbbed with life and the pain of life 
 the opening of an old Russian song which 
 Pierre used to play. She paused on the 
 instant, physical fear, a thing rare with her, 
 gripping every sense, and caught at the first 
 thing within reach to steady herself. Some- 
 thing fell noisily as she did so, and the violin 
 melody ceased at the sound. Then she heard 
 a step above her, and gradually a light glim- 
 mered on the stairs. She looked at it like a 
 snake-charmed animal, breathless, motionless, 
 unable to stir or think. Slowly down the 
 stairway came Michel, a lamp high in one 
 hand, a revolver in the other. Budmashes * 
 were common enough in the Gully for him 
 always to be prepared for them and hardly 
 surprised. Then he saw Theresa in the 
 room below, staring at him with wide eyes 
 
 * Bad characters, mainly of the " theft with 
 murder " order. 
 
 142 
 
THE FULL MIXTURE 
 
 of fear and bewilderment, and stopped 
 rigid. 
 
 Speech, after all, is not an elemental thing, 
 for there is no word in any tongue to fit life's 
 chief moments. 
 
 But while her mind lay in a dull maze, 
 incapable of definite thought, through the 
 man's brain surged mad hopes and possibili- 
 ties as he sought for a reason which had 
 brought her back to him thus. When at 
 length he found words, they were, as ever, 
 halting, weak, almost foolish, against the 
 need of the moment. 
 
 " Therese c'est toi toi ? " 
 
 He came down the stairs, still holding 
 the revolver mechanically, and, putting 
 down the lamp, stood looking at her. 
 Under the look she woke somewhat from 
 her dazed state. 
 
 " Pierre," she whispered, " Pierre," and 
 moved heavily towards him, her hands 
 stretched out as if to touch him and find if 
 he were indeed tangible. Then he noticed 
 her wet hair, her clinging clothes. 
 
 " But you are so wet, little one." He 
 lifted the shawl from her shoulders and 
 taking off his coat, put it round her instead. 
 H3 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 The tenderness of the act, and the old 
 quiet voice brought Theresa to herself. 
 
 " You are not ill ? " she stammered. 
 "They told me you were ill you were 
 dying, and wanted me." 
 
 "They? Who told you this lie?" he 
 asked, quickly, his mind recovering itself as 
 it felt harm drawing towards Theresa. 
 
 "It was a chit a bazar-chit the bazar- 
 writer's English of the words you would use : 
 the gharri-wallah's boy brought it up, and 
 the sick sahib's writer had sent the bund- 
 gharri, they said." 
 
 She spoke in the automatic fashion of one 
 whose brain is still dulled by fear in her 
 case, indefinable fear. 
 
 Michel, on the other hand, was rapidly 
 going over the possible names of the makers 
 of this plan, and wondering the main query 
 how soon could Theresa get back to 
 Biswa's Lane. 
 
 " Little one, I have had no illness," he 
 said, slowly, pity for her strong in every 
 word. "It was a trap to draw you here, 
 that some harm might come to you. Can 
 you think who laid the trap ? " 
 
 "No, no; unless it were Dominic. He 
 144 
 
THE FULL MIXTURE 
 
 came to us for money and Philip threatened 
 him with the thana, but that was months 
 ago," she answered. 
 
 " And Dominic D'Cruz has not brains 
 enough for such a scheme," said Michel ; 
 " moreover, he is not in Calcutta. He went 
 up country at the end of the cold weather, 
 and / would know of his return," grimly. 
 
 She looked up at him with a child's 
 appeal. 
 
 " What does it mean, Pierre ? Why should 
 any one want to harm me ? And what can 
 they do to me, here ? " 
 
 Intuition came to her even as she asked 
 the question, and sent the quick flush from 
 creamy throat to forehead. She stumbled to 
 a chair, sudden weariness replacing her be- 
 wilderment. 
 
 "Pierre, I must go home," she said, 
 brokenly, and turned her eyes from him. 
 
 " Yes, dear, you must go home," he 
 repeated. He was wondering if it were 
 already too late. "But first you must have 
 some wine yes, you must have it, or you 
 will have no strength to return. And those 
 wet things you should not have them on a 
 moment how can you walk in them, little 
 145 K 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 one ? We must walk at least to the bazar, 
 and even there, in such rain, we have small 
 chance of finding a gharri." 
 
 He listened to the torrents pouring along 
 the Gully, and longed to use the revolver on 
 the one who had driven Theresa into such a 
 sure net. He opened the outer door to see 
 if there were any passer-by willing on such a 
 night to search for a gharri. As he shut the 
 door on the empty street, his eyes caught 
 the lock, one end swinging, broken and 
 useless, the other lying at his feet. It had 
 been broken hastily, and hardly in pro- 
 fessional style ; he had fastened the padlock 
 as usual before going upstairs that night. 
 He turned to Theresa again, his fingers 
 twitching more than ever to use that 
 revolver. 
 
 " Dear, it would be madness to attempt it 
 yet ; you could not get to the end of the 
 Lane. We must wait a little," his voice 
 shook with the very effort he was making so 
 fiercely to restrain it. " Come up to the 
 other room, where it is warm and light, and 
 while you drink your wine, the rain may grow 
 less, if it will not tire you too much to 
 go up ? " 
 
 146 
 
THE FULL MIXTURE 
 
 The old tender reverence in his voice 
 brought the quick tears to her eyes. Philip 
 had never spoken that way to her he hardly 
 spoke to her at all of late. She turned 
 towards the stairs submissively ; presently 
 Pierre slipped his arm round her and aided 
 her slow steps his poor helpless girl ! 
 
 As they went, a man half rose, stiffly and 
 cautiously, from among the packing cases at 
 the far end of the room, his handsome face 
 alight with evil satisfaction ; this last venture 
 promised him more success than all his 
 previous attempts at wrecking Theresa's new 
 life. He straightened himself with a view to 
 creeping after them, then thought better of 
 it. After all, he had already enough evi- 
 dence for a case, should Riall buy his infor- 
 mation that way ; and, moreover, he was 
 uncertain how many revolvers Michel kept, 
 and he had no wish to meet another one at 
 the head of the stairs. So he crept down 
 again among the boxes and waited it would 
 be worth waiting. 
 
 Michel, in the upper room, put Theresa 
 into a chair and brought her wine. A little 
 colour came back to her face as she drank, 
 and the look of fear lessened. Watching 
 
 '47 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 her, as she sat in the room, in the chair 
 which had been hers for long years back, 
 suddenly Pierre Michel's restraint, his calm 
 studied tenderness, gave way ; he came 
 slowly closer, as if against his own will, his 
 eyes burning with the look which for years 
 he had kept from them by sheer self-force. 
 
 As he stood close to her, the very nearness 
 brought with it a last effort to subdue him- 
 self. 
 
 " Where is he then your husband ? Why 
 did he let you come thus alone ? " he 
 asked, careless to keep the scorn from his 
 voice. 
 
 "He was away," Theresa answered. 
 " He went to dinner somewhere in Hast- 
 ings." 
 
 Her tone was halting, and tears the 
 mark of utter weariness of body and heart 
 sprang to her eyes ; she was too tired to 
 defend Philip from Michel's contempt by any 
 assumption of gaiety. 
 
 "Are you then often alone now?" he 
 asked, but she had no answer. She was 
 nearing the limits of endurance, her mind a 
 dull haze of misery, of conjecture. Should 
 Riall return to Biswa's Lane before she 
 148 
 
THE FULL MIXTURE 
 
 reached it, what chance would her wild tale 
 of Pierre's summons have in his doubt- 
 clouded mind? She looked at Michel in 
 silence, then the struggle of months to be 
 true to her husband in lightest thought as 
 well as word ended suddenly, and her head 
 went down on her arms in an attitude 
 of complete abandonment. Perhaps for 
 Pierre's love for her had ever been too tender 
 for any fierceness he might have curbed 
 himself even at that point of their lives as at 
 others, but for the quiver which he saw run 
 through her body with each sob, the sadness 
 of that dear head, hidden from him as it was, 
 until of the cloud of hair he could see only 
 the loose waves above the hollow of her 
 neck. And at the sight the chains which he 
 had so long laid about his passion snapped, 
 reverence to her and honour to himself falling 
 before his fierce anger that any man should 
 have plucked his sweet flower only to cast it 
 aside. The hot words which spelt the re- 
 pression of five years rushed out fiercely ; he 
 hardly knew what he said certainly he did 
 not care, now that he had thrown restraint 
 to the winds. But the flood of his passion 
 was too strong for mere words ; they ceased 
 149 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 as abruptly as they began, and standing 
 beside her, his frame shaking with the 
 strength of the storm which had at last 
 conquered him, he passed his hand over her 
 bent head. At the touch, she lifted herself 
 slowly and looked at him a look in which 
 sheer aversion struggled with pity. Then 
 she drew herself to the other side of the chair, 
 away from him, still silent, and Pierre saw 
 his condemnation in the movement. He 
 began to speak again in swift self-defence ; 
 the old repression should commence anew, 
 he told her, should Riall make no objection 
 to her return after this night's absence. 
 But " he dropped on his knees beside her, 
 touching her dress lightly, the hunger of a 
 great love in the touch " but if he will not 
 believe you, if he casts you away, little 
 flower ah, I love you so, I love you so." 
 
 "And I," answered Theresa, looking at 
 him steadily with eyes which reflected no 
 glint of his passion, " I love my husband." 
 
 Michel's arms, half-stretched towards her, 
 fell heavily ; with a shiver he rose, and, 
 going over to a window, looked at the rain. 
 The was no need of further talk with 
 Theresa; knowing her as he did, he knew 
 150 
 
from the tone of her words, half proud, half 
 pitiful, and wholly wifely, that she was Philip 
 Riall's, body and soul, and as yet no degree 
 of passion and pity from any other would 
 touch her. And with the knowledge, he 
 cursed himself for adding to her burdens by 
 forcing his love upon her at such a time. 
 He must get her home now ; the worst 
 deluge was preferable to this solitude, which 
 had mocked him and made him mad. 
 Surely the rain was somewhat less ; there 
 had been a continuous downpour for the 
 last thirty-six hours until that night, and if 
 they waited longer they might find some 
 road so flooded that progress would be 
 impossible. 
 
 " I will take you home now, dear," he 
 said in his old quiet tones, turning from 
 the window, " the rain is a little less heavy. 
 Put this cape on yes, you will be more 
 protected so. And forget to-night and its 
 madness altogether; if you can, forgive me." 
 
 She paused at the head of the stairs, her 
 face softening. 
 
 "Pierre dear friend I am sorry, so 
 sorry. Forgive? Ah, yes." She put out 
 her hand, and Pierre touched it softly with 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 more than his old reverence . . . and they 
 passed down in silence. 
 
 As they crossed the Lane from the shop, 
 a thought came suddenly to Pierre. He 
 had only a rupee or two with him ; what 
 if Riall were home and refused Theresa 
 entrance where could he take her, penni- 
 less ? He had a few notes upstairs and 
 the security of that deposit which was not 
 even yet entered in Theresa's name ; he 
 had been "going to do it" for many 
 months. Yes, he would take all he pos- 
 sessed with him, and when the bank opened, 
 he would have the amount made over to 
 Theresa. Perhaps, too, the knowledge of it 
 would weigh with Riall. 
 
 "See, little one, wait here a moment, in 
 this doorway you will have shelter. I must 
 bring some rupees a moment only." 
 
 He crossed over to the shop again, and 
 Theresa saw him enter it. But she did not 
 know that a man within it, who had already 
 begun to creep cautiously out, dropped softly 
 to the ground at the sound of the opening 
 door, and as Michel ran up the stairs, 
 Maurice Pereira slipped quickly from the 
 house. Michel looked ugly, he thought, 
 152 
 
THE FULL MIXTURE 
 
 and there was no use in throwing one's life 
 away, especially when one has all but com- 
 pleted one's vengeance. 
 
 But although, as he slunk hurriedly away, 
 he saw no one, Theresa from the opposite 
 doorway saw him clearly, and instantly began 
 to understand the making of the nights trap. 
 While her mind raced from one surmise to 
 another with confusing haste, she did not 
 know that Pierre, stumbling in the darkness 
 towards the almirah, had caught his foot in 
 a gap in the floor. In his excitement he 
 hardly noticed it, but when, having secured 
 the tin box, he turned to go, he felt the whole 
 floor sliding beneath him, the whole house 
 swaying before him. The torrents of nearly 
 a week past had done more secret than appa- 
 rent harm among kutcha old buildings. As 
 Pierre felt the house give way, he sprang 
 aside to reach a window and perhaps safety 
 for her sake. Theresa, watching the house 
 dully while her brain was occupied with 
 Pereira, suddenly saw it move on one side, as 
 it were, then there came a quick crash and 
 the roar of falling stone and timber as the 
 building fell inwards like a thing of match- 
 wood. A cloud of dust rose from it, soon to 
 '53 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 be reduced to a mere puff by the deluging 
 rain, and silence came again. 
 
 Pierre had only left her a few seconds ago, 
 and now 
 
 " Pierre, Pierre," cried her soul to his, but 
 she was incapable of any audible word. She 
 gave a low cry as she slid to the ground, her 
 eyes still fixed on the wreckage which had 
 been Michel's house. Then came a merciful 
 darkness over her mind, and her body lay 
 motionless, huddled in the arch of the 
 doorway. 
 
 X 54 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 AT THE GATE OF LIFE-IN -DEATH 
 
 " For, whom the heart of man shuts out 
 Sometimes the heart of God takes in." 
 
 James Russell Lowell. 
 
 OUTSIDE the high white walls the many 
 strings of Eastern life thrummed in varying 
 discords and some few harmonies. Within 
 the walls the East disappeared, save for its 
 actual physical details, and the ways of the 
 West were supreme even the calm that lay 
 over all was of a Western order, the calm of 
 well-ordered activity. Even at that early 
 hour of the dawn all were astir in the con- 
 vent and preparing for the day's work, and 
 on the wide roof black and white figures 
 walked slowly up and down, devotional books 
 in their hands, prayers on their lips. Some 
 few were old nuns, but the majority young ; 
 one, the tallest among them, who stood a 
 little apart from the others looking intently 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 towards the entrance gate, it would have 
 been hard to place among young or old. 
 Some of the good sisters had reported that 
 Mother Mary Gertrude had been twenty 
 years in religion, but her face, above all her 
 glorious young eyes, had the look of eternal 
 twenty-five. It was a face transfigured out 
 of deepest sorrow by a passionate love, a 
 love that throbbed through every action of 
 her narrow convent life, a love that was 
 broader and more powerful since it was a 
 thwarted passion. For she had been made 
 for motherhood and the cling of baby fingers* 
 and when a weeny foundling baby beat off 
 all other strange faces with frantic cries, 
 Gertrude had the downy bit of brown hu- 
 manity to her breast with a hungry clasp 
 that was careless of crushed gamp and dis- 
 arranged veil, the old Irish hush-o on her 
 lips, the lovely eyes shining with the joy of 
 this temporary mothering. It was a light 
 which had been dawning in those eyes when 
 the warm loving life of the world was thrust 
 away from her a world which was just 
 showing to her lily-soul that it would have 
 need of her as a mother, with weenshy soft 
 things to satisfy the mother-hunger of her. 
 
 I 5 6 
 
AT THE GATE OF LIFE-IN-DEATH 
 
 She was barely sixteen, one of two sisters 
 famed for beauty throughout the county ; the 
 elder, a gay and thoughtless butterfly, had 
 every mother's son for twenty miles around 
 at her nod. There came a black day when 
 the widowed father, a man of iron and steel, 
 cursed the hour she was born, and praised 
 every saint that the mother was dead before 
 the girl soiled the good name. 
 
 And in the same breath he bid Nannie 
 get to a convent before she also brought the 
 black shame on the house. 
 
 It was only when the convent peace had 
 soothed the terror and the heartache of her 
 that she realised what the pain meant that 
 still lingered for the joyous dreams were 
 for ever to be dreams, and there would never 
 come that bit of preciousness against her 
 heart to call her mother. And so only the 
 look of those eyes remained to tell that 
 Mother Mary Gertrude had been meant for 
 a mother before she became a saint. 
 
 Her look just now was directed towards 
 the gates, where the portress, a withered old 
 Eurasian, was gesticulating angrily. A native 
 woman, gay in crimson and yellow, defiance 
 in her very attitude, stood by the small gate, 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 apparently demanding entrance, but there 
 was more contempt than anger in her ges- 
 tures. As the portress backed away a little, 
 obviously in fear of the other's superior com- 
 mand of language, the bazar-woman calmly 
 pushed her way in at the gate, swung the 
 Eurasian aside when she would have stopped 
 her, and went up the path towards the con- 
 vent doors, looking at the unfamiliar scene 
 on the roof curiously but with the entire 
 absence of timidity which pointed out her 
 rank to Mother Gertrude afar off. 
 
 Such as she were not the visitors one ex- 
 pected, or found, in convent compounds, and 
 Mother Mary Gertrude hurried down lest 
 some young nun should meet with insult. 
 The woman hastened also, and meeting the 
 Superioress a yard or so from the cookhouse, 
 retreated towards a side path with beckoning 
 finger. 
 
 "Thou art ruler here?" the woman said 
 questioningly as Mother Gertrude followed 
 her, and then paused. 
 
 " I am Mother of these others, and of 
 some of God's poor ones," answered the nun 
 in graver tones than usual. " And thou ? 
 What dost thou seek here ? " 
 
AT THE GATE OF LIFE-IN-DEATH 
 
 The bazar-woman eyed her with growing 
 distrust. 
 
 " I have news for thine ear alone," she re- 
 plied, "if indeed thou art merciful, as thy 
 name says." 
 
 She twisted herself forward and fixed her 
 eyes on the nun in silence. Then she broke 
 out suddenly, passionately : 
 
 " Lo, I am evil ; thou art too holy to say the 
 word, but thou wouldst shrink from the touch 
 of even one of my fingers. Madya, the evil- 
 liver, and therefore free free to speak to all, 
 even unto saints ! " She shifted her saffron 
 sari defiantly, steadying her arm on one hip. 
 
 For a moment Mother Gertrude did not 
 speak. She looked quietly into this bazar- 
 woman's eyes with the look which was half 
 her power, and made her face so startlingly 
 divine : then she said as quietly, " Speak, my 
 sister, have no fear." 
 
 Madya stared curiously at this vision in 
 white, with the holy eyes and the voice of a 
 dove, who named her sister. Slowly the 
 defiance fell from her own face and limbs, her 
 arms dropped to her side and hung there 
 meekly, and when she spoke again it was 
 with bent head. 
 
 '59 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 ' Thou art called the merciful one. There 
 is one hath need of mercy she that was 
 once in the school here, Theresa D'Cruz. 
 She lies there," nodding gravely towards 
 Jaun Bazar, " and the house is not good for 
 a mem-sahib and her child. If the merciful 
 one would take her in, the light of life may 
 even yet return to her," she paused deferen- 
 tially, but with lifted eyes fixed keenly on 
 Mother Gertrude. 
 
 "But how came she in Dhuki's Gully? 
 The husband Theresa married an English- 
 man and went away," said the bewildered 
 nun half to herself. Then grasping the main 
 difficulty, she asked : 
 
 " And thou ? Why shoulds't thou know 
 this one, who is a mem-sahib? Who art 
 thou, that thou shouldst come as messenger 
 from Theresa ? " 
 
 The woman hardened under the judicial 
 tone, throwing her head back with her former 
 defiance. 
 
 " What I am, cans't not see, oh wise 
 one ? " A little smile of mockery passed 
 across her face. "Once I was wife to the 
 sweeper in Dhuki's Gully, and the child came 
 to us often, having indeed none else to care 
 1 60 
 
AT THE GATE OF LIFE-IN-DEATH 
 
 for her, save Michel Sahib, who is now dead. 
 The gracious one had not heard ? " She 
 took up the conversational tone and form of 
 address swiftly, as one on guard, looking 
 sideways at Mother Gertrude, the eager, 
 earnest familiarity gone. " Lo, this dweller 
 of the bazar had forgotten. How should 
 saints behind high walls know of such 
 things? Two nights since his house fell, 
 being shaken by the long rains, and the sahib 
 fell with it." She paused, her face expres- 
 sionless save for the distrust which was 
 apparent in every line of her body. 
 
 Mother Gertrude's long years in the East 
 had sharpened her quick Irish wit : and her 
 grey eyes glinted humorously as she turned 
 them on Madya. 
 
 " And what has Michel Sahib's house to 
 do with this mem ? Speak thy heart, my 
 sister, there are none here to listen," pointing 
 to the feathered masses of greenery on either 
 side, with nothing higher than a tamarisk 
 visible. In drier weather it was the pride 
 of the mail's * heart, where he raised 
 " powder of flowers " to his content. 
 
 * Gardener. 
 
 161 L 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 Madya dropped her voice, nevertheless. 
 "I will say all" ('which means as much as 
 you choose to know,' thought the nun), "for 
 the little one loved thee and spoke thy name 
 often, and the old one, the Mother Essav-yer, 
 she hated." Mother Gertrude's eye-lashes 
 quivered at the simple flattery. "And in 
 the bazar there is none other to give comfort 
 to the mem-sahib, since there are strange 
 people now at the Missen-house who do not 
 know her. When Michel Sahib's house 
 fell there was one who sheltered close by. 
 There be some who are abroad late in the 
 bazar, mother of the poor. And as this 
 one fled in fear of the falling stones, she 
 found the mem-sahib lying within a door- 
 way, and she was cold and wet, as if 
 life were indeed gone from her. We 
 carried her away to our house, I and 
 my sisters. There was no one to ask how 
 she came there, and what are we, dwellers 
 in the bazar, to meddle with the affairs of 
 sahibs?" 
 
 She glanced up at Mother Gertrude, 
 obviously waiting for a lead, but the nun 
 had drawn a mask over her face, and returned 
 her look with level brows. 
 162 
 
AT THE GATE OF LIFE-IN-DEATH 
 
 " And the child ? " she asked. " What of 
 it, is it well ? " 
 
 She could not keep some measure of 
 anxiety from her voice, seeing that the 
 question concerned a young life. 
 
 " The child is well enough," answered 
 Madya indifferently. " Lo, it is but a girl." 
 The gospel of Eastern indifference towards 
 things feminine sounded in the careless 
 words. "But she, she hath fever and her 
 mind is dark ; the lamp of her life is low, 
 and our hands are not those to rouse the 
 flame. Perchance if the merciful one came 
 to this poor abode, the light would not go 
 out utterly." Again there was a pause more 
 expressive than the speech which preceded 
 it, while the fine bold eyes measured the 
 possibilities of the saint. 
 
 " We will come, my sister, at once. But 
 is it wise to take Theresa away yet ? The 
 hospital is far, and a gharri " 
 
 "Hospi-tal! Who named a hospi-tal?" 
 rose Madya's voice scornfully. " There 
 would the mem die assuredly, since she is 
 weak, and knows no one, and the doctor-log 
 would have her at their mercy ! Hospi-tal ! " 
 She eyed Mother Gertrude doubtfully, all the 
 
 163 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 native's incurable horror of that place of 
 grim mysteries, a hospital, awakened. 
 
 " But we cannot bring her here." Mother 
 Gertrude's eagerness for the apt pupil whom 
 she had so loved, for the sufferer who cried 
 alike to her warm heart and her saintliness, 
 passed into a rapid calculation of possible 
 asylums for her. There, as she had said, it 
 was impossible to receive her. There was 
 the school, and the scandal consequent on 
 any mystery within the walls ; and the mantle 
 of the departed Mother Xavier had fallen 
 upon twain who would have viewed the 
 actions of an archangel with suspicion. That 
 Madya was keeping back a good portion of 
 what she knew or suspected was patent to a 
 much slower mind than the nun's ; also that 
 she was strangely anxious to transfer Theresa 
 from her own keeping, irrespective of conse- 
 quences. The knowledge prompted Mother 
 Gertrude's next question. 
 
 "Thou art eager that none should know 
 the mem-sahib hath been within thy house 
 is not that true?" The quiet eyes turned 
 keenly on the bazar-woman with a sudden 
 look of power in their depths. " If thou hast 
 no good reason to give, then must it be 
 164 
 
AT THE GATE OF LIFE-IN-DEATH 
 
 thought that thou hast a share which needs 
 hiding in the night's work." 
 
 Madya admired the new ruler far more 
 than she had done the saint, being indeed 
 unaccustomed to dealing with the latter. 
 
 " Lo, we are evil and the house hath no 
 good name in the bazar," she answered 
 swiftly. "There was a plan made that harm 
 might come to the mem-sahib so much hath 
 one learnt from her and if she were found 
 in such a house there would be small chance 
 of keeping the harm from her." 
 
 " I see," said Mother Gertrude thought- 
 fully, " I see." The other wondered how 
 much indeed this saint did see, who was 
 willing to speak with sinners and quick-witted 
 enough to reckon them up also. The nun's 
 thoughts ran in ways which would have been 
 strange to Madya or any other Eastern 
 though, before she asked : 
 
 "When the mind is in sudden darkness, 
 my sister, there is ever a struggle towards 
 the light. What is the mem-sahib's cry on 
 whom does she call through the day ? " 
 
 " It is always Phil-eep, Phil-eep," replied 
 Madya, judging it an idle question. "Twice 
 indeed, when the pain was great and she was 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 in terror, she called for Michel sahib by his 
 name." 
 
 "Oh," said the Rev. Mother, stroking 
 down the beads at her side, a trick she had 
 when thinking deeply. She was trying to 
 piece together Theresa's story with a swift 
 wit which would have equalled any in the 
 bazar. When she spoke, it was rapidly, 
 decisively. 
 
 " Listen, my sister, there are some they 
 are called Little Sisters of the Poor who 
 will shelter the mem-sahib until until she 
 can go home. They will have found her ill, 
 in the street that is so ? Thou wilt know 
 nothing of it ! Only, lest a gharri might draw 
 men's eyes in the bazar, and she is sick also, 
 thou shalt bring her to the Sisters in a palki 
 when darkness falls. Be careful of her; if 
 thou hast aught else to say concerning her, I 
 will be at the Sisters' house to-night. God 
 keep thee, my sister." 
 
 The bazar-woman heard the words with 
 bent head. She was seldom commended to 
 the care of any one save Shaitan, or named 
 as sister by a saint ; and as the tall figure 
 moved slowly away, graceful in every move- 
 ment still, despite the cumbersome garments, 
 166 
 
AT THE GATE OF LIFE-IN-DEATH 
 
 she felt a momentary longing the first for 
 years for the right to be so treated, for 
 the clean life again which Gopal babu had 
 wrested from her for ever. 
 
 And Theresa, lying on a charpoy in a dark 
 room, narrow, dirty, heavy-aired with cheap 
 perfume and stale breaths, turned her un- 
 seeing eyes from roof to floor and back again 
 to that tiny thing beside her, wrapped in 
 part of a gay sari, and moaned " Philip 
 Philip, Philip." 
 
 167 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 LAD'S LOVE 
 
 " Mais il part au cceur blessee, 
 Elle pleure tous les soirs. 
 Volez vers la delaiss^e 
 Lourds papillons noirs." 
 
 Coppe'e. 
 
 THE post of interpreter, however minor, is 
 one calculated to sharpen the dullest of minds; 
 and in the case of Father Bernard Gavin 
 there was a mind available that was by no 
 means dull. Thirty years of India spells 
 heaviness of mind and body for many of the 
 few who survive so long, but in Father Gavin's 
 circumstances there was little chance of mental 
 rusting and none at all of bodily sloth. He 
 had come on the Indian Mission, a plump, 
 fresh-faced Irish lad, burning with a zeal 
 fierce enough to turn all Asia. Hard work 
 and hot suns had sobered his emotional 
 nature, withered away his plumpness, and 
 1 61 
 
LAD'S LOVE 
 
 left a thin little man, old before his time, and 
 with all the wild fervour quietened to an 
 acceptance of the good God's will, even when 
 it permitted Hindus and Mohammedans to 
 flourish. His energy was still amazing, but 
 it was a calmer, more concentrated force, 
 which left him free to accomplish more, free 
 also to undertake more, to grasp more of the 
 inwardness of the matters which came under 
 his ken, whether great or small. It was thus 
 that he found leisure and liking for acting as 
 interpreter between the convent and the 
 world, and developed an amount of tact and 
 patience that earned the undisguised admira- 
 tion of every good sister even of those who 
 were more godly than good. Also he was 
 seldom surprised ; but when, on a hasty sum- 
 mons from the Superior, he arrived at the 
 Little Sisters' one evening to find the grave- 
 eyed Mother Gertrude, who should have been 
 among her own nuns at vespers, hushing a 
 wailing baby on one arm, while with the other 
 she gently put Theresa back each time she 
 flung her hands out wildly, his surprise was 
 decided. 
 
 As he heard Madya's brief story told at 
 more length by Mother Gertrude and eked 
 169 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 out by Theresa's pitiful wanderings, the sur- 
 prise turned to regret almost as much for 
 Mother Gertrude as for Theresa, since his 
 more worldly-wise mind could find small 
 chance of escape from the meshes which had 
 been drawn around her favourite. The 
 security of the trap was in its very simplicity, 
 and in the fact that time was slipping away 
 while Theresa lay with darkened mind, 
 unable to guide them by so much as a name. 
 But Father Gavin, anxious to be doing some- 
 thing and unwilling that Mother Gertrude 
 should question him too closely of his hopes, 
 went off early to begin inquiries. The 
 caution which was necessary involved a delay 
 against which he chafed, knowing that in all 
 probability the unknown opposing force was 
 advancing ten paces for his one. 
 
 The Wesleyan Mission-house, which ordi- 
 narily might have given him some information 
 about Theresa, was useless now, since the 
 Wilshaws had gone back to America in search 
 of health too late perhaps and the new- 
 comers had no knowledge of the girl. But 
 gradually he gleaned some few facts concern- 
 ing her, chief among them that of her married 
 name, and the Biswa's Lane address. At 
 170 
 
LAD'S LOVE 
 
 which point, of course, he was stopped by a 
 dead wall of surmise. Beyond Madya's tale, 
 and the vague suspicions prompted by it and 
 by Theresa's wandering talk, he had no 
 foundation for his firm belief that he would 
 have to face Riall as a suppliant, since a 
 demand for justice must meet with contempt 
 from a man who judged himself so wronged. 
 That Riall had quite sufficient reasons, in 
 his opinion, for avoiding any search for his 
 wife, was to Father Gavin's logical mind the 
 most damnatory part of the affair ; a man who 
 made no effort to find a wife in such conditions 
 could hardly be wanting her at all. So it was 
 in no mood of hope that he went to Biswa's 
 Lane, and scarcely a surprise to find the flat 
 already closed " partly dismantled and the 
 poor gentleman's gone to live at the Paris," 
 was the information gratuitously given by the 
 engineer's wife on the opposite landing as she 
 accidentally came to her doorway just as 
 the good father passed down. 
 
 He had no inclination to glean further 
 details from her, to the blackening of 
 Theresa's name, and went back through the 
 streets, glaring and evil-smelling after a 
 day's dryness to consult Mother Gertrude. 
 171 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 Then, with a change of mind, he called at the 
 Little Sisters' instead, knowing that there 
 would be no risk of finding the Rev. Mother 
 visiting there at that hour. He was anxious 
 to save her what measure of disappointment 
 he could, this saint of whom he had still dim 
 memories, thirty years and more old, as a 
 brown-haired slip of a girl in Kerry. Had 
 the grim father not flung her into the con- 
 vent so early, there might have been a 
 " spoiled priest " the more. 
 
 There was nothing new, said the little nun 
 who had been appointed Theresa's nurse as 
 much for her fine capacity for holding her 
 tongue at the right moment as for her 
 nursing gifts ; she had been more quiet, 
 only crying out at times that the house would 
 crush her, and still putting her hands over her 
 ears to shut out the crash which was the last 
 thing she had heard. 
 
 Father Gavin sighed, and went home to 
 write out his defence of Theresa; in case 
 Riall refused to see him, he would at least 
 get a letter delivered to him. Then, with the 
 letter in his pocket, he went in the early 
 evening to Riall's hotel a third-rate place 
 with a grand name in an undesirable side 
 172 
 
LAD'S LOVE 
 
 street. It was a great place for enforced 
 temporary residence, and while enabling its 
 frequenters to say that they lived in a hotel, 
 the bills involved were lighter than in the 
 average boarding-house. The out-of-elbows 
 look of the whole place, the desolate bareness 
 where there was not desolate tawdriness, 
 jarred on the priest, accustomed as he was 
 to clean, spare orderliness. It was the half 
 hour before dinner which he had chosen, and 
 in consequence there were fewer boys idling 
 about to catch up stray gossip. Riall's own 
 boy, busily polishing imaginary dust off 
 imaginary articles when a sahib came in 
 sight, was quite willing to drop the jharan * 
 and depart to his companions downstairs at 
 sight of a half-rupee. 
 
 Thus it was in more than the average easy 
 fashion of the East that Father Gavin entered 
 Riall's room, the boy having given a per- 
 functory call of " Gaf-fin sahib," and then 
 vanishing according to payment. 
 
 The hotel's general air of desolation seemed 
 so concentrated in this one narrow room 
 that the priest felt a momentary wish to treat 
 
 * Duster. 
 173 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 its inmate with the same fatherly affection 
 that he would have given to one of his own 
 flock. But the hard look in the boy's eyes 
 as he sprang up from the table where he had 
 been writing, caused Father Gavin to speak 
 in a tone of chill conversation as he replied 
 to Riall's curt inquiry concerning himself. 
 
 " I have just left your wife, Mr. Riall " ; 
 the -hard look passed to one of anger, and 
 the priest quietly closed the door, and then 
 drew a chair to the table, uninvited. 
 
 " I haven't got a wife now. She left me 
 a week ago," was the boy's fierce answer. 
 
 " So I have learnt," replied the priest in 
 smooth tones, " and being found ill and un- 
 conscious in the street, she was removed to 
 the infirmary of the Little Sisters of the 
 Poor, who now have charge of her. I have 
 only just found out her married name she 
 is still delirious and can give us no guid- 
 ance' " 
 
 " I don't want to hear anything about the 
 woman," Riall broke in. " She is nothing 
 to me or she won't be very soon. I'm busy, 
 and I don't care how soon you go." 
 
 The brutal vulgarity in the tone troubled 
 Father Gavin more than the hard misery in 
 
 174 
 
LAD'S LOVE 
 
 the lad's eyes had done. It was, apparently, 
 only for himself that he had regrets, and the 
 Irishman's fighting spirit rose. 
 
 " I came here to tell you certain things, 
 and to ask others. I do not think a man " 
 with a faint emphasis "was ever yet too 
 busy to say the word which would save a 
 woman from a broken heart. As yet the 
 nuns have only her wandering words to help 
 them to any cause for your wife's being out 
 alone, on such a night. Will you give us 
 the reason, if you can ? " 
 
 Riall set his teeth savagely. " Do you 
 think I want to discuss my affairs with any 
 stranger that chooses to come prying about 
 them? If you're so interested in Theresa, 
 you'll have a chance to show it soon, and if 
 you want to know anything now, you must 
 deal with my solicitors." 
 
 The grandiose fashion in which he flung 
 out the words irritated Father Gavin to his 
 first sign of anger. 
 
 "You are trying for divorce you?" 
 The contempt was undisguised. " And 
 against a woman who cries every hour for 
 you, whose only fault was loving you too 
 much, if I can read her nature. What 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 cause did Theresa ever give you for thinking 
 otherwise ? " 
 
 ''Cause?" said the other fiercely, "she 
 never gave up her old bazar lover, she went 
 to him the night she left me, she was con- 
 cerned in a trial for murder cause ? There's 
 enough to divorce two wives." 
 
 He turned away from the priest savagely. 
 The other looked at him in silence for awhile 
 it all seemed so foolish, so pitiful, and so 
 hopeless. Then he said quietly : 
 
 " And the child ? Are you trying to put 
 that away from you also ? " 
 
 Riall gave an ugly laugh which cut across 
 his handsome mouth and changed its expres- 
 sion. 
 
 " What's that got to do with me ? Do 
 you think I'm fool enough to think. T Ve 
 anything to do with it ? " 
 
 He threw up his head as he made the 
 sneer, and the priest saw by his look of 
 defiance that whatever love had existed for 
 his wife was dead in Riall, and that he was 
 indeed fighting against something worse than 
 an injured husband a tired one. The know- 
 ledge only moved him to a more passionate 
 defence of Theresa, and although the words 
 176 
 
LAD'S LOVE 
 
 could not touch Philip Riall's narrow soul, 
 they were strong enough to disturb him, 
 as he moved about the room in a mood of 
 childish contempt towards his visitor. 
 
 " I knew Theresa before you came to 
 Calcutta, Mr. Riall," the priest said slowly. 
 " I have known her from a baby until you 
 took her from Dhuki's Gully. What kind 
 of life you have given her rests with you ; I 
 only know that she was born and bred in 
 hell, it would seem, and yet remained pure 
 and beautiful in body and soul, and that it 
 was the work of the man whom you dare to 
 slander in your thoughts. I hold no brief 
 for Pierre Michel, living or dead," checking 
 Riall's retort with uplifted hand " seeing 
 that I am a Catholic and a priest, and in the 
 way of religion Michel was nothing that one 
 could discover. But he was a Frenchman 
 and a gentleman, and he taught Theresa 
 what he knew, and kept her from the con- 
 tamination of the Lane, and from that of the 
 D'Cruz home. He made her a French girl 
 in all but name, and it was the greater 
 miracle since he gave her no religion to aid 
 his work. Theresa never had a religious 
 sense, only an artistic : she has none yet 
 
 177 M 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 and when her mind clears and finds itself 
 deserted, how do you think she will live ? " 
 
 " I don't care what becomes of her," was 
 the short reply. " I told you before if you 
 want to talk about the woman, you'd better 
 go to my lawyer. He'll be interested and 
 a bit surprised if you've got any evidence 
 that will upset ours." 
 
 " Oh ! So you are already collecting 
 ' evidence ' ? And who is it is buying it for 
 you ? " The priest's voice was cold again. 
 
 " If you mean you want the name of my 
 lawyer, it is Digby Kinnaird." 
 
 "Kinnaird? That " Father Gavin 
 
 checked himself on an unclerical word, and 
 rose, throwing back his shoulders as if to 
 put away the weight of this last distasteful 
 thing. 
 
 " I will go and see Mr. Kinnaird, and 
 hear a little of this evidence that has been 
 purchased," he said with slow scorn, and 
 went towards the door. Then, with his hand 
 upon it, he turned with a last passionate 
 appeal to some better thing in Riall's nature 
 than his childish defiance and obstinacy. 
 
 " Man, if we have to tell her that you 
 have done this, it will kill her. She lies 
 
LAD'S LOVE 
 
 there crying your name hour by hour ; I 
 think her mind would come back now if she 
 saw you. Put your suspicions aside until 
 her life is safe, at least, in the name of bare 
 mercy, if not for your wife and child." 
 
 He looked up at Riall eagerly. 
 
 " Let her prove that she never went to 
 Michel's that night, that she was not there 
 alone with him for more than an hour," 
 answered the other, fiercely. " It doesn't 
 matter to me whether the fellow's dead now 
 or not he wasn't dead when she went there, 
 and my witness can prove it and she can go 
 to hell now, and you too." 
 
 He pulled the door savagely from the 
 priest's hand, and thrusting him outside, 
 turned the key. 
 
 And Father Gavin, knowing that at that 
 hour Digby Kinnaird would be too sur- 
 rounded by flesh-pots and wine-pots to hope 
 for any talk from him, went back to the 
 Little Sisters, to meet Mother Mary Gertrude 
 there, hopeful and almost joyous, since 
 Theresa had shown signs of returning con- 
 sciousness after a sleep, and had asked for 
 her husband. 
 
 179 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 WHITE WINS 
 
 " Grown familiar with disfavour, 
 Grown familiar with the savour 
 Of the bread by which men die." 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 "FATHER, it is of the little one," said the 
 silent nun from Brittany, and since her words 
 were so few, Father Gavin turned all the 
 more readily to hear her. 
 
 " It is not like the others," she went on, 
 "it lies all still and quiet and when it cries 
 it is a strange sound. To the Mere Ger- 
 trude I have fear to speak of it already she 
 is so troubled for her poor Therese but I 
 think soon the mother will notice the child's 
 silence. Her mind grows clear to-day, and 
 the doctor says to keep her at ease at all 
 cost." 
 
 She paused questioningly, her clear young 
 eyes fixed on the priest for guidance. 
 
 " Who is with her now ? " he asked. 
 1 80 
 
WHITE WINS 
 
 " Sister Frangoise, father, because she has 
 no English, and she understands well that 
 one must keep the sick quiet." 
 
 " And Mother Gertrude ? " 
 
 " She conies to-day at half-past four." 
 
 " We must talk of it with her," said Father 
 Gavin, thoughtfully. " Has the doctor said 
 anything about the child ? " 
 
 " Yes, father ; he thought it had indeed no 
 voice, but that we must wait. Only I 
 I know it is truth ; among the foundlings 
 at Lyons were many who had the voice 
 dumb." 
 
 The priest sighed ; even his large faith 
 was disturbed over Theresa ; had she indeed 
 been kept far above the level of her people 
 that she might now be tortured the more ? 
 How could she be kept from the depths now, 
 with all her hopes dead and no faith at all to 
 help her despair? 
 
 " Poor Theresa," he said, " God's hand is 
 heavy on her, and we can only give her our 
 prayers." 
 
 "It is man's hand, father," flashed the 
 
 little nun, and then was suddenly silent. It 
 
 was not for her to speak of what she knew 
 
 and guessed of the case, although deep 
 
 181 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 beneath her meek sanctity the Celtic soul of 
 her ached for one of her strong Brittany 
 fishermen who would horsewhip Theresa's 
 husband. 
 
 There was a merciful slowness, however, 
 in Theresa's recovery, and the mists of pain 
 and fear lifted so gradually that her well- 
 wishers had time to think out plans for an 
 equally gradual enlightenment as to the 
 broken threads of her life, and what they 
 suggested for the weaving of new ones. 
 That existence in Calcutta would be unbear- 
 able now for her, all were agreed ; that a 
 convent was the best of permanent refuges, 
 the others were also agreed, but Mother 
 Mary Gertrude, whose sane common-sense 
 had not lessened for twenty years of narrow 
 life, was doubtful. If Theresa's spirit was 
 utterly crushed, she might sink into the 
 religious oblivion gladly ; only, as a child 
 there had been the pride and passion of her 
 father's race always visible beneath her 
 docility. Moreover, how they were to im- 
 press upon her the perfections of a life guided 
 entirely by tenets with which she had appar- 
 ently as little sympathy as with Buddhism, 
 puzzled Mother Gertrude. 
 182 
 
WHITE WINS 
 
 She had accepted the work of telling 
 Theresa the inevitable facts since she 
 argued they would sound less bitter if told 
 tenderly, and she who had loved the child 
 more than most would surely throw about 
 her now such a soft veil of pity that it 
 might raise a haze even around the ruins of 
 her life. 
 
 But fate played havoc with them and their 
 pitiful attempts to draw any such protecting 
 veil about one whose feet had from the 
 beginning been set upon the thorny way. 
 
 Their care for her, as often happens, went 
 for naught. While Father Gavin was still 
 fighting against Riall's action, blindly but 
 loyally, seeing that Digby Kinnaird met him 
 at every turn with evidence and witnesses 
 alike unshakeable the latter having received 
 part payment in advance ; while Mother 
 Mary Gertrude and the Little Sisters spent 
 all their energies in bodily care for Theresa, 
 and prayed that they might be kept from the 
 temptation to pray that the clouded mind 
 would never be cleared, the new thread was 
 slipped into fate's shuttle and the wheels 
 began to turn once more. Theresa woke 
 suddenly one dawn from a long sleep and a 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 longer silence, life vivid again as she last 
 knew it at Michel's. 
 
 "Where am I?" she asked, then seeing 
 the little French nun, "why did you bring 
 me here ? Did the house hurt me when it 
 fell ? Ah, I remember I could not get 
 
 home in time, and Pierre " a shiver ran 
 
 over her as she remembered, and she was 
 silent again. 
 
 " Why am I here," she went on after a 
 time, her eyes still closed, as if to shut out the 
 sight of that end of Pierre's. "Who are 
 you ? " 
 
 " You became ill in the street and one 
 brought you to us, the Little Sisters of the 
 Poor I am Sceur St. Joseph, and I nurse 
 you since you arrive here," the nun answered 
 literally, her mind alert for the questions 
 which she knew must follow. 
 
 " So you are French ? " Theresa's eyes 
 opened and looked curiously at the Little 
 Sister, " I used to speak French always with 
 Pierre. I think I forget now." She looked 
 away again, her eyes wandering around the 
 room as if in search. 
 
 "My husband? He did not come, he 
 did not send here ? " she spoke quietly, but 
 
 184 
 
WHITE WINS 
 
 with a pitiful eagerness behind the words, 
 and the little Sceur St. Joseph had a momen- 
 tary cowardly desire for Mother Mary 
 Gertrude. 
 
 " You need not be afraid to tell me," 
 said Theresa as she hesitated ; then she 
 repeated her words slowly in French there 
 was obvious difficulty in the effort. " I 
 shall not be afraid to hear anything you 
 can say ; nothing can hurt me any more." 
 
 She lifted her great eyes, expressionless 
 save for their mournfulness, and looked 
 steadily at Soeur St. Joseph. It almost 
 seemed as if in that time of apparent dark- 
 ness her mind had dwelt upon the one theme 
 until it had been conscious of its progress and 
 of the inevitable end. Her calmness now 
 was of the order known as unnatural, only 
 because it is the sole alternative to wild 
 despair. 
 
 " I think," answered the nun, " that Father 
 Gavin will tell you all when you are stronger. 
 Will you not now rest and trust in God and 
 your friends ? " she added tenderly. 
 
 "It does not matter what Father Gavin 
 has to say if he does not want me any more," 
 Theresa said wearily. " Tell me, Sister, 
 185 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 does he not want me, does he indeed believe 
 what others have told him, before he comes 
 to question me ? I will ask nothing else- 
 there will be no need to ask." 
 
 " Those who love much, ever forgive 
 much," replied the little Sister softly, and 
 kneeling beside the bed, she put her arms 
 around Theresa's neck, her strong young soul, 
 wrapped in the happy security of religious 
 fervour, eager to surround this poor one with 
 every sign of tenderness. 
 
 For a long time there was no sound in the 
 room save Theresa's quickened breathing. 
 The narrow band of light which had crept in 
 through the unclosed slat of a jhilmill broad- 
 ened to a wide stream which surrounded the 
 nun's kneeling figure ; from beyond the jhil- 
 mills came the first faint hum of the city's 
 wakening life, the chatter of the crows, the 
 creak of hackery wheels. Even the sounds 
 of the Eastern dawn held that curious feeling 
 of timelessness which lies over everything 
 that is of the old East, where the haste and 
 the concern with life are only apparent and 
 the real interests of raja and coolie alike are 
 outside the ken of Western minds to many 
 of which, indeed, they appear to be more 
 1 86 
 
WHITE WINS 
 
 concerned with ceasing to exist than with 
 existing. 
 
 In the silence the little Sister prayed for 
 the wounded heart that beat close to her 
 own ; for herself, Theresa had no prayers 
 the one clear thought in her dulled soul was 
 that Philip had forsaken her, and she found 
 herself in an empty world. Her intuition of 
 what had happened hardly needed Sceur St. 
 Joseph's tender confirmation ; his long neg- 
 lect, even aversion, the gulf of doubt which 
 had lain between them, had brought her to a 
 level of hopelessness from which only the 
 return of joy would rouse her. It was, per- 
 haps, the natural inclination of human nature 
 to seek some source of gladness, more than 
 actual motherhood which at last stirred her. 
 
 " What happened to it ? Where is my 
 baby ? " she asked suddenly, moving her head 
 from the little nun's arm. 
 
 " It is sleeping there," answered Sceur 
 St. Joseph with a glad smile, as she pointed 
 to the screened corner of the room. " But it 
 is possible that I may bring it to you without 
 it awakes." She crept to the cot and took 
 the child up, with a passionate prayer that it 
 might comfort the mother, despite the fair 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 hair and blue eyes, and let the last blow come 
 after the comfort. 
 
 " Which is it ? " asked Theresa at first sight, 
 almost fiercely. Then hearing the answer 
 for which she had hoped since her world went 
 to pieces, she clutched the child to her with 
 a savage gladness, and for a while forgot all 
 but her motherhood. 
 
 When she found time to glance up, the 
 Little Sister had gone, leaving her alone with 
 her joy. 
 
 As far as possible they left her alone for 
 that day, and the respite from talk, if not 
 thought, of Philip, had its good effect. She 
 gained strength steadily, if slowly, and at the 
 end of a week was able to give Father Gavin 
 the missing details of that night at Michel's. 
 She spoke of Riall and his action with an 
 amount of calmness which surprised him, 
 while the thread of pride and bitterness which 
 ran through her speech pained him. Mother 
 Mary Gertrude was glad of it ; it was a sign 
 that she was ready to fight life for the child's 
 sake, and she must needs get courage from 
 pride if she could not from faith. 
 
 Gradually they told her something of the 
 plans suggested for her future, showing by 
 1 88 
 
WHITE WINS 
 
 this means that they had abandoned hope of 
 recalling Riall to her. But it was hardly 
 possible to say much of her future and the 
 child's until the fact of the latter 's infirmity 
 had been forced upon her. Mother Gertrude 
 hoped to get her into a convent, either in 
 Madras or on the Bombay side, as a kind of 
 assistant teacher. There she could keep the 
 child and would at least be sheltered. 
 
 Afterwards there was a plan that she might 
 go to Ireland, where a cousin of Mother 
 Gertrude's directed a deaf-mute institution ; 
 and while the child was taught there, the 
 mother would learn also, was the hope of 
 these simple, loving souls, until she would 
 be content, nay eager, to devote the rest of 
 her life to God and the Church. 
 
 Theresa wrote once to Riall, at Father 
 Gavin's entreaty, but it was hard to read her 
 still passionate love under the few proud 
 words ; and even had she shown her real self, 
 it would not have touched such a man as he. 
 The poor letter came back to her, with a 
 typed note from the office of Digby Kinnaird, 
 to the effect that all communications to their 
 client must be made through them. Theresa's 
 bitterness increased from that day, and she 
 l8q 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 never mentioned Riall's name again. Father 
 Gavin had pleaded with him passionately to 
 see his wife, but letters of cheap contempt 
 were the only replies. It was impossible for 
 her to attempt to go to him, and although 
 Father Gavin fought for her bravely, he had 
 no case against the array of evidence pro- 
 duced by his opponents. Theresa's pitiful 
 little statement of the night's doings and of 
 seeing Maurice Pereira creep from the house 
 went for naught. In a land where police 
 terrorism can at once procure the few wit- 
 nesses not amenable to rupees, and where a 
 common conclusion to divorce "reports" is 
 "the names of the parties did not transpire/' 
 there was naturally but one ending to the 
 Riall marriage. It came long before Theresa 
 was strong enough to walk, for Philip Riall 
 had been anxious for his freedom. But the 
 setting of the world's seal upon her broken 
 marriage mattered litde to Theresa ; nothing, 
 indeed, mattered since she had learnt during 
 the previous week that her child was deaf 
 and dumb, and her heart seemed turning to 
 stone. 
 
 190 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THROUGH THE GATE OF TEARS 
 
 "... She could feel 
 The pain of wounds that ache because 
 they heal." Longfellow. 
 
 IT was one of those days in early October 
 which in the first hours of dawn and darkness 
 seem to hold a promise of coolness, as one 
 discovers some glimmer of summer through 
 a chill, weeping April in England. Through 
 the narrow compound around the Convent of 
 the Little Sisters there swayed a faint sound 
 inaudible, indeed, except to ears which had 
 ached for it through another dreary Sep- 
 tember never becoming a rustle, yet stirring 
 the leaves, as it did the heart of the watchers, 
 with thoughts of breezes to come. The corner 
 in the angle of the lower verandah, where 
 old Sceur Alacoque struggled each cold 
 weather to make a quiet French garden, 
 already showed green shoots such as the 
 191 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 patient gardener had seen every spring of her 
 early girlhood in her beloved Vannes. The 
 old nun's white confessions at this time, made 
 with the simplicity of a child such as she 
 was, acknowledged the grievous fact that 
 thoughts of her garden's progress intruded 
 on that of her prayers, and that her " Laus 
 Deo " at dawn was prefaced, at least mentally, 
 by doubts as to the ultimate shade of the 
 new rose-bush. Those few precious yards 
 of baked earth were France to Sceur 
 Alacoque, and held her with tender links to 
 that land which is even older than France 
 the motherland of all who have had a youth, 
 and to which each year of their age gently 
 draws them back. To Mother Mary Ger- 
 trude the links were made by tiny fingers 
 instead of a flower's petals, and the heart 
 pressure was all the greater. As the years 
 crept on her she came to fear somewhat the 
 making of a new baby-love : the parting was 
 inevitable, and the lonely aching also. 
 
 " I fear 'tis worldly-minded I am, ladies," 
 had been her word to the community at 
 recreation one night with a little laugh, half- 
 sad, half-comic, when, being gently rallied for 
 pre-occupation, she admitted that she was 
 192 
 
THROUGH THE GATE OF TEARS 
 
 thinking of Theresa's future. In ail her 
 convent life Mother Gertrude had never 
 found it so hard to obey fully that final pre- 
 cept of her order, which seemed to stand 
 before the other rules now as she saw them 
 each day on her wall. " Ever joyous " with 
 a leaden heart, as she tried to find some 
 cause of hope for her poor girl. " Cheerful " 
 with Theresa's child taking each day firmer 
 hold on her love, while she tried to steel 
 herself against devotion to it, knowing that 
 it was planned for mother and child to leave 
 for the Bombay side as soon as Theresa 
 could travel. Yet the love came and stayed, 
 the more so since only to herself and Sceur 
 St. Joseph would Theresa give the child for 
 a second. Philip Riall she never mentioned, 
 and what her thoughts were not even Mother 
 Mary Gertrude could guess. Most of the 
 hours were spent in dull apathy, from which 
 only the baby's touch could rouse her. To 
 the nuns she was gentle and docile, seldom 
 speaking, acquiescing almost in silence to the 
 plans they made for her, and Father Gavin 
 was forced to agree with the Little Sisters 
 that the sooner she could be got away from 
 Calcutta the better her chance of a clear 
 193 N 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 brain and health once more. For to most, 
 her mute endurance only betokened a mind 
 that was breaking after the fashion of her 
 heart. Only at times Mother Gertrude 
 caught glimpses of a strength, a fixed pur- 
 pose, a decisiveness, which showed that 
 Theresa had learnt other things beside silence 
 from her sorrow. 
 
 Once when she heard that the child had 
 only been given the provisional name of 
 "Mary," she had asked that "Gertrude" 
 might be added. 
 
 " If she may have your name, perhaps my 
 black fate will shadow her less," she said, 
 "and I want to think, when she is alone, that 
 she bears your name altogether, and so is 
 blessed." So it was that the baby's golden 
 hair and blue eyes were matched by the 
 name of Gertrude O'Connor, to please the 
 mother's fancy, and Theresa felt that she 
 had trodden the first step of the new life 
 she had planned behind her silence. Her 
 strength returned so slowly that there was no 
 chance of taking further steps, and she came 
 to accept the respite from her purpose as 
 something akin to peace, although the pur- 
 pose haunted every moment of it. 
 194 
 
THROUGH THE GATE OF TEARS 
 
 She showed a passionate love for the child, 
 which made the good Sisters rejoice that for 
 some years, at all events, there need be 
 no parting, the Bombay convent having 
 arranged that Theresa should live with her 
 child at a kindly widow's near by. When 
 she was able to walk a little, she spent hours 
 on the verandah, the baby pressed to her 
 almost fiercely, her heart looking from her 
 eyes each time she glanced at the child. She 
 spoke little to it, perhaps from a kind of 
 sympathy with its own silence ; but often the 
 nuns found her with face bent low over the 
 child and a look in her deep eyes as if she 
 were gazing at it for the last time. The 
 Mother Superior of the Little Sisters, whose 
 breezy robustness swept through every affair 
 of the convent, decided that this concentrated 
 passion of Theresa's was becoming harmful 
 to her, and invented many little ways of 
 lifting her out of herself, chief among them that 
 of giving alleged assistance to Sceur Alacoque 
 in her garden. But when the task of holding 
 a few seeds in readiness or gathering super- 
 fluous greenery was over, she only pressed her 
 child the closer, and with the touch forgot 
 everything else in the world, apparently. 
 195 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 She was walking slowly on the lower 
 verandah at that October dawn, when there 
 came steps into her life again by which it 
 might make progress, since her own steps 
 were but feeble. The bhisti, coming across 
 the path with that odd trotting motion which 
 seems inevitable when a bulging pigskin of 
 water is across the back, swerved suddenly 
 as he neared Theresa, let the hand which 
 supported the weight of the skin drop quickly 
 in and out of his copra, and then, making a 
 furtive salaam, swung on his way to the 
 cook-house, leaving a twisted bit of paper 
 with Theresa. The pause would hardly have 
 seemed to an observer more than an ordinary 
 hitching-up of the water-carrier's heavy 
 load. 
 
 For all her dead calmness, there was a 
 second of wild hope for Theresa as she took 
 the paper ; then it died down, and she 
 opened the cheap envelope with hardly a 
 shade of interest. The touch of currency 
 notes roused her to something more than 
 interest ; had he indeed written, and dared 
 to send her money ? She tore open the 
 folded paper, reading the few ill-written 
 words at a glance ; then crushed the letter 
 196 
 
THROUGH THE GATE OF TEARS 
 
 and notes under the folds of her baby's gown, 
 and stood with wide eyes staring at Soeur 
 Alacoque's garden, her mind in a maze of 
 new emotions. For the only hand which had 
 been lifted to her from that hard outside 
 world was one stained with the henna of sin, 
 and yet tender, loving, eager to ease, if it 
 might be, the pain caused by white hands. 
 Even the bazar-writer's few clumsy sentences 
 could not hide the tenderness behind them, 
 and it stirred Theresa in a way that the 
 saintly sympathy of the convent had been 
 powerless to do. 
 
 The woman who spoke through the words 
 knew of love and sin, sorrow and despair, 
 not in the objective fashion of the nuns, but 
 because she had lived with them, and out of 
 the fire of such life had emerged reckless, 
 defiant, careless of all things and people 
 under heaven, mocking at anything of it- 
 save when, on some rare lonely night, fear 
 gripped her. 
 
 But those whose hands hold only the 
 frayed ends of life often weave better threads 
 in the lives of others, which their fate forbids 
 them to weave for themselves, and Madya, 
 after a preliminary curse at Philip Riall, had 
 197 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 practical help to offer. If the mem-sahib 
 willed to remain in Calcutta an address 
 should reach her whence additional help 
 might be obtained : only it would be better 
 to be away from Calcutta, was Madya's 
 verdict Bombay, Madras, up-country and 
 there fling the old life behind, the vain 
 struggle to be good, since being bad was 
 made easier by all men, and was, moreover, 
 so much more comfortable. Such was the 
 substance of the letter, and for all the blunt 
 language, it touched Theresa. The odd side 
 of receiving such a proposal within a convent, 
 and by the hands of the bhisti, whom she 
 knew outwardly for a stolid elderly man, 
 well dowered with progeny, brought some 
 approach to a smile on her lips. Then, 
 when it began to work out its purpose, she 
 sat down to rock her baby, and think a set 
 of new thoughts. For this money meant the 
 possibility of life to her, fifty rupees though its 
 total was, and gathered after such a manner 
 that rightly she should have thrown it far 
 from her, with its suggestions. But it had 
 instead given her the thought of an experi- 
 ment whether one might not, after all, 
 touch pitch without defilement. Previously, 
 198 
 
THROUGH THE GATE OF TEARS 
 
 she had found but one end to all her won- 
 derings about herself death. She was not 
 only unnecessary, she was an encumbrance, 
 even a menace, to this little soul which she 
 adored so passionately. Therefore she had 
 decided on suicide, as soon as her child was 
 settled with the new nuns, as the best solution 
 of the problem of effacement ; she was still 
 too much attached to Mother Gertrude to 
 give her the pain of such a thing happening 
 in Calcutta. 
 
 But now, with fifty rupees she might efface 
 herself as completely in that great world 
 beyond India ; the money would help her 
 part of the way, her voice must complete it. 
 And so, her motherhood demanding a hear- 
 ing, she slipped the notes within her bodice 
 and had a few words written in Bengali to 
 pass into the bhisti's hand when he came on 
 his evening round. Life of any sort would, 
 after all, be worth enduring, cried the mother- 
 heart of her, if it were lived in the same 
 world with her child, though apart and un- 
 known. Only, the parting must be very 
 soon. The child, even in these early months, 
 was becoming a miracle of loveliness, as if all 
 other things were indeed to be added unto 
 199 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 her to atone for her dumbness. Theresa 
 saw the dawn of each new beauty with a 
 fearful joy, knowing that should she see 
 many more, flight would be a physical 
 impossibility, and there would be an end to 
 her fixed resolve that her child's life should 
 be darkened by no shadow of her ill-fated 
 self. 
 
 So, by degrees, seeing in the clearness of 
 her mother-love that this was indeed the 
 only way, she wrote a last letter to Mother 
 Mary Gertrude, the pen rusting in her tears 
 between each page she wrote. She had 
 recovered herself so far that the journey to 
 Bombay was to be made the following week. 
 She left the letter on her bed one evening 
 when the promise of cool days had become a 
 joyous reality, and the long breathless nights 
 were almost forgotten in the pleasure of the 
 English chillness, 
 
 " I think you will understand, and so I 
 will not ask for your forgiveness," she wrote. 
 " Tell the other good Sisters that it is not 
 ingratitude sends me away thus I shall 
 think always of their wonderful goodness to 
 me. Do not try to find me, for the child's 
 sake ; there is no other way to keep her 
 200 
 
THROUGH THE GATE OF TEARS 
 
 from any touch of my life. Take her with 
 you to your dear Ireland, Mother, when you 
 go next hot weather to bring out the new 
 nun. It is my last cry to you oh, take her 
 away from this India, where she can only 
 find damnation ; take her to this new country, 
 where no one knows her mother's dreary 
 story, and tell the good nuns there that she 
 has no mother or father. Ask them to 
 keep her in the convent always there she 
 will be safe and at peace, and I too. If I 
 knew how to pray, I would pray for you, 
 Mother ; but prayers from me might turn to 
 curses, and bring you harm. 
 
 "Good-bye. Oh! love her, love her. 
 Theresa." 
 
 The Little Sisters were at vespers then. 
 Up from the chapel there came an echo of 
 each prayer, and stayed in Theresa's memory 
 ever after when she thought of her farewell. 
 Sceur Alacoque's voice, sweet still for all its 
 occasional quavering, was audible in the 
 choir behind the rich voice of the Mother 
 Superior. 
 
 " Illabitur tetrum chaos 
 Audi preces cum fletibu>, ' 
 201 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 came faintly to Theresa's ears as she went 
 towards her baby's cot. Would any measure 
 of tears from her, a life-failure, win the 
 pity of that God Who was such a close 
 personality to each of those good women 
 in the chapel ? If she could only believe 
 it all would the ache at her tired heart 
 grow less, and could she find any other 
 path to tread than this hard one on which 
 her feet had now entered ? The child 
 was sleeping, and for a moment, fearing to 
 waken it, she knelt dumbly beside the cot, 
 her arms across it, her eyes fixed hungrily on 
 the little face. Then she threw restraint 
 aside, and taking the child up swiftly, strained 
 it to her in a passion of finality. Each line 
 of its body, each soft bit of fair hair his 
 hair seemed in that second to be impressed 
 upon her own body ; and with the touch the 
 mother gave a vow to the child's soul that at 
 least she would not sustain her life by drink- 
 ing the dregs of life's wine-cup. Doomed as 
 she seemed to remain in the depths, she 
 would keep the right to stand equal with the 
 life that she had brought into the world, 
 though the child would never know her. It 
 stirred a little in her long clasp. Theresa 
 202 
 
THROUGH THE GATE OF TEARS 
 
 snatched the joy of a last hushing-back to 
 sleep, her unshed tears gathering round her 
 heart, it would seem, and mercifully dulling 
 its agony. 
 
 " Coeleste pulset dstium : 
 Vitale tollat praemium : 
 Vitemus omne ndxium : 
 Purgdmus omne pessimum." 
 
 She must go before vespers were ended ; 
 it was her only chance of solitude and un- 
 observed escape. Surely there were other 
 manners of prayer than those of the good 
 Sisters whose lives had been from childhood 
 so shielded from all "threatening evils. 
 Surely this fire into which she was descending 
 would purge her from iniquities, past or 
 future, although no word of petition came 
 from her lips. 
 
 She laid the child back on the pillow, gave 
 one last passionate look, and then, afraid that 
 even the lightest touch more would break 
 down her resolve, turned quickly away. But 
 at the doorway she stopped, looked once 
 more, though not trusting herself to go back 
 into the room, and suddenly dropping on her 
 knees, prayed that her child might have 
 203 
 
happiness prayed all the more passionately 
 since she was dumb with misery, and a hard 
 world had shown her neither a God nor a 
 heaven. Then she went swiftly down the 
 mehtar's* stairs. It seemed a degree of 
 mockery that the words from the chapel 
 which followed her were those of the per- 
 sonified woman triumphant, who in the glory 
 of her full joy could sing : 
 
 " Esur&ntes implevit bonis : 
 Et divites dimisit inanes." 
 
 Passing out into the narrow lane which ran 
 at the rear of the little compound, she felt a 
 momentary sense of fear. She had been 
 sheltered so long that the outside world 
 seemed very vast and strange now. She 
 slipped across the main road into another 
 gully, and so into the bazar, where she knew 
 of a room that would hide her while she made 
 plans for her journey. 
 
 And, striking the noisy thoroughfare at 
 a point where a grog-shop's lights glared 
 
 * The back stairs of Indian bedrooms, leading 
 to the compound. 
 
 204 
 
THROUGH THE GATE OF TEARS 
 
 across the gutter-pavement, she came dead 
 against Dominic D'Cruz, leaning near its 
 doors. 
 
 He touched her lightly, the touch she 
 remembered and hated. 
 
 " Why, are you coming to find me, my 
 little daughter, then ? " 
 
 For a moment she stood mute, rigid, 
 shivering with the dread for which she had 
 no words. Then she whispered in a dry, 
 toneless voice, her child's freedom from the 
 dark taint the only thought clear to her reel- 
 ing senses : " Come away I am going away. 
 We will go together, you and I." 
 
 205 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE WAY OF THE CROSS 
 
 " The years slid like a corpse afloat." 
 
 Rossetti. 
 
 PROBABLY more than half of each so-called 
 civilised race belongs, body and soul and 
 brain, to that rank which is hard to name and 
 yet well-known to all. Failures one can 
 hardly call them, since many are, in their own 
 words, " making a good thing out of it," the 
 "it" being life. Descenders might describe 
 them better, since the sign of their entry into 
 the lines of the great army is that each has 
 come, deliberately or otherwise, from higher 
 to lower things. Some, indeed, seem destined 
 to descend even while they are planting their 
 feet on the higher paths, and their stay there 
 is of the briefest ; others have had a more or 
 less protracted struggle against their descent, 
 rendered all the more difficult since struggles 
 on an inclined plane almost inevitably bring 
 206 
 
THE WAY OF THE CROSS 
 
 one some degree nearer the bottom. Once 
 arrived there, there is no ascent, and the 
 knowledge of this gives that air of surrender 
 to their fate which marks every one of the 
 army. The air differs according to type ; 
 with some it becomes apathy, with others 
 recklessness, with others gloom. Yet, on the 
 whole, there is a mercifully small measure of 
 self-pity and still less tragic repining ; the 
 mere fact of their descent entails a similar 
 fall in intellect, and those who were loudest in 
 hailing the Good, the Beautiful, and the True 
 at the beginning of their career, fail even to 
 understand the words when the ranks of the 
 army have closed around them, and thus- en- 
 sure their own peace. Naturally, regiments 
 of the army are to be found in greater 
 numbers in the back places of the earth 
 the places where successful people, the 
 ordinary comfortable-going sort, do not 
 congregate stray spots in the South Seas, 
 raw townships in Australia and the States, 
 and scattered throughout the length of that 
 ideal resort for life's incompetents South 
 America. Many, though, cling to the older 
 byways, either from choice, indolence, or 
 circumstances, and among them were to be 
 207 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 found Theresa and Dominic. They had 
 wandered steadily westwards by strange, 
 sometimes hard, roads, since that night in 
 the Calcutta bazar had drawn them together, 
 making their first long stop in that world's 
 sewer Port Said. Their partnership was 
 curious, even to the casual acquaintances of 
 their own level, many of whom would have 
 been glad to alter it in their own favour. 
 Theresa had at first drifted into permanent 
 touch with D'Cruz from sheer dread of any 
 shadow being cast over her child's life ; she 
 let it continue from dread of the last black- 
 ness coming upon her own. She would 
 hardly have thought Dominic D'Cruz much 
 of a shield against the world, especially as 
 his former religiosity and respectability had 
 fallen from him in his more evil days, leav- 
 ing the hulk a foolish, useless thing, almost 
 too weak for contempt. Yet he served as a 
 barrier, much as a log would have done, 
 and for this purpose Theresa dragged him 
 with her from place to place. " I will do 
 everything to support you, except sell my- 
 self," she had said to him when they began 
 the long journey, and the sick emptiness of 
 her heart made her shrink from him visibly. 
 208 
 
THE WAY OF THE CROSS 
 
 What harm he could have done to her little 
 one she could not say, but the mother's in- 
 stinct warned her that he would be best 
 away from Calcutta while the child was 
 there. He had admitted that he had heard 
 of the rifts in her life chiefly through 
 Maurice Pereira, and that he was meditating 
 a paternal visit to her before she had left 
 the Little Sisters' Convent. That he had 
 gathered together the worse sides of the 
 story was only natural, and presumably he 
 had counted on an easy livelihood by 
 levying blackmail on Theresa whenever 
 she attempted a fresh start. That neither 
 Dominic D'Cruz, nor any other black-and- 
 white had ever looked on her child, brought 
 a gleam of satisfaction to the mother ; it 
 had, at least, begun with a white life, save 
 for those early hours when it was held by 
 brown hands, and the heart which guided 
 those hands was white with love. 
 
 She told D'Cruz that she had left the child 
 nothing more, and allowed him to put his 
 own interpretation of "abandoned." It 
 would be all the less probable that he would 
 seek to vex the little life if he concluded that 
 there was nothing to be gained by tracking 
 209 o 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 it. The only other one from whom Theresa 
 had feared harm, Maurice Pereira, would 
 also, she knew, be indifferent to the child's 
 fate now that it was severed from her own. 
 Above all, she had perfect faith in Mother 
 Mary Gertrude the loving confidence which 
 others might place in a saint and she knew 
 that her appeal for the little Gertrude's ulti- 
 mate removal to Ireland would be heeded. 
 
 Her only fear was that she might not hide 
 herself quickly enough or far enough. She 
 hurried Dominic as far as the Straits in a 
 fever of haste. There she paused to buy a 
 second-hand violin, since to live needed 
 rupees, and hers were gone. From Rangoon 
 their wanderings were haphazard, purpose- 
 less, except for the sufficient reason that 
 they must go where Theresa could earn 
 money by voice or hands. It was December 
 when they reached Port Said, and she found 
 work there for a week or two to entertain the 
 stray visitors to a place which called itself 
 hotel, cafe-chantant, and restaurant alternately, 
 and obtained its income by being very little 
 of all three. 
 
 After the first horror of it all Theresa 
 came to a grim delight in foiling the purpose 
 210 
 
THE WAY OF THE CROSS 
 
 of her engagement. She found a certain 
 relief from the old wounds' smart in fooling 
 the pitiful specimens of men who gathered 
 around her, and who, being tiger when they 
 were not ape, roused a fierceness in her 
 which hedged her around as no calm dignity 
 would have done. 
 
 " Voila une panthere ! " was flung at her 
 before the week was out, by a fellow who 
 tried to stigger from his cards on to the 
 rough stage where Theresa was playing 
 banal tunes. " Escroc ! " was her con- 
 temptuous reply, as she continued the air. 
 It was a chance shot, but fitted so well to the 
 general opinion of the room that there was 
 instant applause, loud enough to rise above 
 the usual din of voices, glasses, feet, and 
 fists. With a snarl, the man lurched towards 
 her, cursing as he went. Theresa's head 
 drooped a little lower over her violin, and 
 her neck showed a line of quick flame. 
 
 A sudden interest in affairs brought a hush 
 over the room as they watched her curiously. 
 It was a species of blooding with which none 
 of them felt called upon to interfere let 
 the spitfire look to herself. The man a 
 mongrel dog, who was more apt to worry 
 
 211 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 than bite lifted himself on to the stage at 
 last. She ended the air with a slight quiver 
 in the notes, and putting down her violin, 
 stood waiting for him, her head high, her 
 face brilliant, maddening in its defiance. 
 
 Then as he stumbled nearer there was a 
 swift movement towards her waistbelt, and a 
 flash of steel in the air. It was a small 
 knife, but it had an ugly look and a nasty 
 turn to the blade. She held it before 
 her, still silent, until the man was level with 
 her. 
 
 "The kisses of this come first," she said 
 then, in a voice that was clear to the far end 
 of the room. 
 
 The man, coward in all his mongrel blood, 
 backed away from the nearness of the bare 
 blade, Theresa's derisive laugh following him. 
 The other men echoed it with a round of 
 applause for herself, and the outburst stung 
 even the mongrel. He sprang forward 
 again, and at that mad uproar reigned. 
 There was a little blood and much noise, 
 some fierce fighting among those whose only 
 relief it was from the monotony of evil, and 
 when the proprietor had restored partial 
 order by the simple process of ejecting all 
 212 
 
THE WAY OF THE CROSS 
 
 on whom he could lay hands, Theresa had 
 gone. 
 
 She came to play next night with the little 
 knife gleaming bare in her waistband, her 
 eyes burning fiercely, but with hands as 
 steady as ever. She was buying her strength 
 by grim experience. 
 
 In the next week their wanderings com- 
 menced again. It was not fear of the 
 habitues which drove Theresa on, but of 
 herself. At first she had felt a fierce pleasure 
 in hovering among the worst of evils : now 
 she felt a dread of being forced to the 
 lowest depths if she remained longer in the 
 place. 
 
 It was at Genoa that they next remained, 
 and there rose somewhat from the Port Said 
 level. A second-rate theatre, one of that 
 curious type which in Italy performs the 
 two-fold purpose of theatre and music-hall, 
 and amazes a stranger by sometimes present- 
 ing an opera in quite fair style, offered 
 Theresa an engagement for a term. The 
 manager, himself an average performer, 
 heard the note in Theresa's music which was 
 generally lacking with players of that stand- 
 ing ; her voice, too, was capable of develop- 
 213 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 ment, he thought, and her face was perfect 
 enough to repay him for any trouble he 
 might take over her progress. 
 
 That she had no wish to rise amazed him 
 even more than her fierce and instant repulse 
 of his advances ; her previous apathy had 
 not prepared him for finding a tigress when 
 he thought to caress a meek lamb. A couple 
 of interviews were sufficient to change his 
 admiration to surprise, chagrin, even a degree 
 of fear, for this dark Madonna with the 
 temper of all the fiends. 
 
 Theresa, standing before her glass that 
 night in the dingy quay-side lodgings, 
 laughed drearily at herself. Would they all 
 say the same things through all the years 
 that had to come ? She was not yet twenty. 
 Presumably, unless fate were unusually kind, 
 she had at least another twenty to drag on 
 but then she would grow old, surely, before 
 that Eurasians always aged so quickly, and 
 she would be quite safe from admiration 
 when there were wrinkles and dulled hair, 
 and her eyes would flash no longer. She 
 went close up to the mirror and studied her 
 face point by point. Its beauty, clear even 
 in the worst of glasses, made absolutely no 
 214 
 
THE WAY OF THE CROSS 
 
 appeal to her ; she had rejoiced in it, shyly 
 but none the less gladly, when Philip had 
 praised it, now she hated its perfections since 
 they had only the power to attract others 
 than Philip. Her tragedy showed no mark ; 
 sudden griefs rarely do, that being the work 
 of the slow days and years of bitterness, and 
 in Theresa's case, the worst of the tragedy 
 had been thrust upon the child. But already 
 the reflected face showed a faint change 
 Theresa herself could not name it, although 
 she noted the differing curve in the mouth, 
 the harder look of the eyes. It was the 
 beginning of the inevitable coarsening of 
 body to match the coarsening of her soul, 
 and both progressed steadily. Her very 
 apathy aided her descent. Save when some 
 fresh attempt to force her to taste the dregs 
 of life's wine-cup roused her to momentary 
 fierceness, she remained indifferent to every 
 concern of her surroundings, great or small. 
 Dominic engaged rooms, bought food and 
 wine, or named a restaurant where they 
 might take meals, Theresa giving a weary 
 acquiescence to everything. Her mind lay 
 always in the past, with the husband who 
 had disowned her and the child who did not 
 215 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 know her. Her only pleasure, and that a 
 negative one, was dreaming of the baby's 
 progress, picturing her in the various stages 
 of a sheltered infancy, safe from the world, 
 surrounded by the devotion of those earthly 
 saints, in whose goodness at least Theresa 
 had faith. She coloured her pictures from 
 the warm Italian life which was as yet the 
 only Western one she knew ; a vision of the 
 drear stretches of bog with no tree visible 
 except those which had struggled into life 
 around the convent, and so made it a physical 
 as well as religious oasis, would hardly have 
 comforted the mother as did the flowery 
 dreams. 
 
 Sometimes there came a wild longing to 
 be near the child, to feed her starved heart 
 on actual sight, at least, of the life which had 
 once been part of her own, but she fought 
 down the desire, and so made each return of 
 it less keen. Time had confirmed her resolve 
 to give her child a clear chance, to keep her- 
 self apart from it, and so save it from the slur 
 of the half-caste. 
 
 D'Cruz, curious to see London now that 
 they were so far towards it, urged the pro- 
 posal incessantly, and so often brought the 
 216 
 
THE WAY OF THE CROSS 
 
 temptation before Theresa, but she resisted 
 steadily, and at length threats to abandon 
 Dominic altogether ended his desire for 
 England. He knew that he was absolutely 
 incapable of obtaining for himself the idle, 
 comfortable existence which Theresa's earn- 
 ings procured for him. The level of the 
 comfort might be low, but he was not par- 
 ticular as to quality, while he could have 
 long easy days in wineshop or cafe of sorts, 
 and no harder occupation than escorting his 
 "dear daughter" to the theatre in the evenings. 
 Moreover, he was getting old Eurasians 
 wear badly, like all things of mixed woof, 
 and D'Cruz was nearing sixty and he had 
 small inclination to do anything so long as 
 this dutiful daughter, for some strange reason 
 of her own, was willing to maintain him in 
 ease. 
 
 So the months grew to years in dull 
 uneventful fashion, the change from one 
 town to another bringing no colour to 
 Theresa's existence, no gladness to her 
 heart. Only when, at some apartment or in 
 idle wanderings in the streets, she came 
 across a little child a tiny, helpless thing 
 such as she had held in that last passionate 
 217 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 clasp in Calcutta she would waken and 
 speak to the mother, and then, taking the 
 stiff bundle which was still a baby, into her 
 empty arms, she would still her heart's hunger 
 with shadowy joy. 
 
 218 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE LOWER DEPTH 
 
 " A lei deh perdona, tu accogli la, oh Dio ! " 
 
 La Traviata. 
 
 IT had been a perfect day, in weather and 
 happenings alike. The sun, creeping down 
 to sleep among long violet and green ripples 
 which seemed to form the ribbed shore of 
 another world, still gave light enough to glorify 
 the higher points of the village, while deeper 
 twilight lay on the lower reaches and veiled 
 their meanness. Across the low hill came the 
 sound of a bell swinging in the valley chapel ; 
 nearer, a man's whistle was heard as he made 
 his way down the road ; far off there lay a 
 thin grey streak which would presently 
 shimmer silver in the moonlight all that was 
 visible from this distant point of the Bay of 
 Naples. It was difficult to believe in the 
 existence of Naples up there in the peace and 
 solitude and gathering darkness Naples with 
 219 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 its crowds and glare and noise, which was 
 already calling imperatively to one at least of 
 the two figures on the hillside. 
 
 She rose slowly from her seat on the grass, 
 dropping her arms down heavily as if tired. 
 Her mouth was set now in bitter curves, and 
 the great eyes looked out on life wearily, but 
 the face was still beautiful, the masses of dark 
 hair hiding somewhat of its thinness. 
 
 " Why go to that inferno ? Stay here- 
 dear, stay here with me and begin the new 
 life now ? " 
 
 The man looked at her eagerly, putting out 
 his hand to keep her. He spoke in French, 
 but with an accent neither French nor Italian 
 the tone was cultured, the manner had a 
 reverence such as Theresa had not met with 
 since the days when Pierre Michel spoke to 
 her. She turned slowly towards him, her face 
 softening, but her voice passionless. 
 
 " No, no, not yet, not now. I told you that 
 I would think, I would decide soon. Mean- 
 while, we cannot live on the hills let us go 
 down and amuse people or else" she gave 
 a faint laugh and spread out one palm " the 
 experiment will become how to exist without 
 soldi." 
 
 220 
 
THE LOWER DEPTH 
 
 His face clouded more. 
 " Is it worth living then the life we have 
 to live ? Dear, come now, and if we cannot 
 find some place for ourselves above this " 
 pointing towards Naples " well, we can at 
 least go out of life with the taste of love on 
 our lips." 
 
 He took her hands in his and drew her 
 towards him ; she let them lie in his clasp, 
 mechanically, with no answering touch of 
 acquiescence, no movement of her body 
 towards him ; it was like the non-resistance of 
 the marble to the hand which shapes it into 
 another and definite form. She was tired, so 
 dead tired of this life which she had dragged 
 through for four years, of its aimlessness, of 
 the constant fret of the chain which linked 
 her to Dominic D'Cruz. There seemed 
 indeed no way out of it but this, or death, 
 and he had been kind to her, with a kindness 
 that held no insult, and she knew, too, that 
 he loved her. Only only she did not love 
 him. All the passion of her girlhood and 
 womanhood had been poured on Michel and 
 her husband. Her adoration of Riall had 
 been foolish and superfluous no doubt, con- 
 sidering to whom it was given, but it had 
 221 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 been absoluteandhad emptied herheart of any 
 capacity for emotion towards another man. 
 The one standing beside her, looking hungrily 
 into her eyes, she liked, and pitied to a 
 degree which she had long abandoned 
 towards herself; to love him after any fashion 
 was impossible to her. 
 
 Yet her chances of happiness with him 
 seemed greater than with most, certainly 
 than with the others of her world, either 
 players or spectators in the theatre. He had 
 begun life as a Polish gentleman of small 
 means, much refinement, and too much edu- 
 cation. At two-and-twenty he was playing 
 in the violins at a third-rate Neapolitan 
 theatre, his name even left behind him with 
 all his old life. " Eugene Drexel," he was 
 called. It had been the first name he saw 
 over a shop door on crossing the Polish 
 frontier, and he had adopted it as likely to 
 serve him as well as any other. He had 
 been a younger son and had made a mess 
 of things, had been his vaguely candid ex- 
 planation to his new companions. To Theresa 
 he said more, and she in turn gave him some 
 measure of that confidence which she had 
 given no one since Michel went. He had 
 
 222 
 
THE LOWER DEPTH 
 
 spoken to her a few times during his first 
 week in Naples, as he spoke to others in the 
 theatre, carelessly. Then her voice attracted 
 him, despite the inanity of the songs which 
 she had to sing. In his second week he dis- 
 covered that he had an apartment in the same 
 street as Theresa, and was able to assist her 
 in dragging D'Cruz up to the flat when he 
 returned too drunk to walk. The knowledge 
 of this was in itself somewhat of a bond 
 between them. Theresa had managed to 
 keep D'Cruz and his shortcomings out of 
 actual touch with her theatre acquaintances 
 in Naples, insisting that within its area at 
 least he should remain sober. His being the 
 reverse had led to her quitting the last hall 
 at which she had been booked, and so set 
 them wandering again ; and Dominic, whose 
 liking for an easy existence was far above his 
 fondness for the wine-cup the latter being a 
 recently acquired habit had learnt to siink 
 in an opposite direction from the theatre 
 when off for a "long soak." On the nights 
 when he was thus absent Drexel took 
 Theresa home, quietly meeting her some dis- 
 tance from the theatre, and thus preventing 
 comment from the ballet ladies and the 
 223 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 orchestra. At first she accepted him with 
 her usual indifference ; gradually she grew 
 glad to see him, glad to speak for a few 
 moments of the day something above the 
 petty jargon of the halls, to feel her self- 
 respect revive under his voice, his manner. 
 
 With Drexel it was, in the beginning, pure 
 pity for one who was more of a miserable 
 than himself; but the pity changed rapidly 
 to a love which swayed him with fierce 
 passion, and demanded that love should rise 
 in Theresa also. She answered him steadily 
 that she had no love to offer. She did not 
 tell him, lest he should take it as encourage- 
 ment, that his coming into her life had 
 brightened it, and that she already dreaded 
 the time for the inevitable parting. Yet 
 Drexel, being quick of eye and brain, could 
 not fail to notice that her apathy and bitter- 
 ness changed to a softer mood when he was 
 with her, her voice took a shade more tender- 
 ness ; her singing, too, rang with a different 
 note, and met with more approval from 
 manager and audience alike. But though 
 she knew of the change, she knew also that 
 it did not give token of any real revival of 
 her heart. That had withered as she felt the 
 224 
 
THE LOWER DEPTH 
 
 touch of her child's fingers for the last time ; 
 and only those same hands could, she 
 thought, restore life to it. 
 
 She drifted with Drexel because of the 
 sheer relief he brought her. She had granted 
 him these few hours in the hill-silence from 
 the same motive, and was already wondering 
 vaguely, as if it merely concerned some one 
 else, whether she would not soon grant his 
 last demand also. Perhaps it would answer 
 well, after all, and then she could lean on 
 Drexel and be less tired of life. He had 
 been so quietly tender of her that afternoon, 
 full of charm and sympathy, with his own 
 desires held back until she came to leave 
 him. Life with him might be better at least, 
 for a while. 
 
 Only she must think before she yielded, 
 she told herself, knowing well as she did so 
 that it was no matter for thinking at all, but 
 rather of drifting, and that the drifting was 
 rapid, as is ever the case when a whirlpool is 
 at the end. 
 
 " I will tell you soon," she repeated, draw- 
 ing her hands from his, and looking away 
 across the valley. 
 
 "How soon ? I want you now, love, now." 
 225 p 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 He came closer, putting one hand on her 
 shoulder, his deep eyes burning with the fires 
 of his desire. 
 
 " I cannot tell ; I must think." Then with 
 a note of appeal, " Ah ! Eugene, you have 
 always been so different ; don't be like the 
 others now." 
 
 Her eyes softened almost to tenderness for 
 a moment, and turned towards him. He 
 caught his breath with the swift rush of his 
 gladness, and bent to kiss her. 
 
 " No, no not yet," she cried, putting him 
 back with uplifted hands. Drexel laughed 
 softly. She would soon come to him ; let 
 her come her own way, and her yielding 
 would be all the sweeter. 
 
 " To-morrow I will tell you to-morrow 
 night," she said, laying one hand on his, and 
 Drexel, impressionist born and cultured, re- 
 frained from any further sign of passion that 
 he might not spoil the tender effect of the 
 scene, perfect in itself and its setting. So 
 they went down the hill-road in silence, amid a 
 soft darkness more eloquent than any speech ; 
 but behind Theresa's stillness beat the un- 
 ceasing questions : " Is this the end, then ? 
 Is there any use in struggling against the 
 226 
 
THE LOWER DEPTH 
 
 fate which must be mine sooner or later ? Is 
 this the only end ? " 
 
 She went through her first part at the 
 theatre a "singing character" in a vapid 
 curtain-raiser with the same question upper- 
 most in her brain, her voice heavy, her actions 
 mechanical. She was freely hissed as she 
 stumbled through the songs, and Drexel 
 looked up at her sympathisingly when she had 
 dragged the piece to its end. The hiss stirred 
 her more than his look, however, and roused 
 her to unusual effort in her next appearance. 
 
 It was a translation of a French song, a 
 cafe chantant thing that lost a good many of 
 its two-edged points by translation into 
 Italian, but which in Theresa's hands that 
 night lost nothing. There was a light touch, 
 a recklessness throughout, which brought her 
 instant applause. 
 
 This was indeed a new phase for " La 
 Narino " Nella Narino being Theresa's 
 name in Naples and they were genuinely 
 surprised and delighted. As she came to the 
 final verse of the song, amid wild laughter 
 and applause, she looked towards the end of 
 the hall, where a newly-arrived crowd was 
 endeavouring to find room. 
 227 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 One of the men, as he turned round, met 
 her eyes level with his own. The note on 
 which she should have ended fell flat, the 
 careless fling of the hands which should have 
 accompanied the last note changed to a mere 
 heavy dropping of the arms as she turned 
 hurriedly from the stage. 
 
 For Philip Riall's face had looked across 
 to hers, a little wondering, mocking, con- 
 temptuous, handsome as ever, and at the 
 sight Theresa's heart sprang into life again. 
 Why had he come what did he want with 
 her? 
 
 Then, when her first wild tumult of heart 
 and brain had stilled somewhat, she saw that 
 it was probably sheer accident had brought 
 him here. The theatre was near the harbour, 
 and a favourite resort with ship's passengers 
 who came ashore to "see life." There was a 
 London boat in that day, too, for one of the 
 dancers had absented herself to dine " with a 
 friend who is arrived by sea from England." 
 Yes, he had been home, and was returning, 
 she argued, and his presence that night told 
 of no interest in her. But still her blood ran 
 madly, moved by the passion for him which 
 had never died. All the glad things which 
 228 
 
THE LOWER DEPTH 
 
 had happened in their brief life together 
 rushed again through her mind, crowding 
 aside the bitterness of it, and leaving only a 
 dreamy tenderness, a great longing, for this 
 man to whom she had given herself and who 
 had flung her aside. She spent the time 
 between the turns in a fever of restless 
 anxiety, walking up and down the narrow 
 noisy place which served as green-room, 
 answering at hazard remarks made to her 
 by others of the company, who decided that 
 " La Narino " was certainly strange to-night, 
 for her usual proud indifference seemed to 
 be suddenly breaking uo into something more 
 human. 
 
 Theresa's last turn came towards the end 
 of the programme. Her fear lest Riall should 
 have gone before she could return to the stage 
 had brought her to a mood of despair which 
 gave her an air of calmness when she went 
 towards the footlights. Her first glance 
 showed him still there, talking with a yellow- 
 haired woman who sat by him ; he looked up 
 as Theresa entered, and instant contempt 
 came over his face. To Theresa's passionate, 
 hopeless longing for him was added a spasm 
 of wild jealousy against this woman, who- 
 229 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 ever she might be, who could be near him, 
 speak to him, touch him, while she was apart 
 and scorned. She turned swiftly to the leader 
 of the band ; for a second he gave her a 
 puzzled stare the beautiful Narino had been 
 curious to-night was she indeed becoming 
 crazy ? Then the tragedy which spoke through 
 her eyes appealed to his quick Southern intel- 
 ligence, and he called softly to his men ; the 
 prelude which they struck up, played with 
 Italian emotion and feeling, if little skill, was 
 not the opening of the catchy song with which 
 La Narino should have ended that night, but 
 the first bars of the saddest air which was 
 ever written the " Farewell " from " La 
 Traviata." Theresa's fine contralto, which 
 had only lacked soul to make it a voice far 
 above the average, thrilled through the 
 theatre now until it found the hearts of all, 
 and curiosity was overcome by emotion and 
 wonder. 
 
 For Theresa the whole theatre was blotted 
 out. She saw only a blurred circle of faces, 
 with one face clear, the face of a man to 
 whom she was singing, as she had done on 
 that first meeting in Calcutta. He would 
 not understand the words, but even he must 
 230 
 
THE LOWER DEPTH 
 
 hear the passionate wail of them and know 
 that the farewell was to him. 
 
 " Addio del passato bei sogni ridente, 
 Le rose del volto gia sono pallenti, 
 L'amore d'Alfredo perfino mi manca, 
 Conforto, sostegno dell'anima stanca ah ! 
 Delia Traviata sorridi al desio, 
 A lei deh perdona, tu accogli la, oh Dio ! 
 Ah ! tutto, tutto fini, or tutto fini ! " 
 
 Her breath came gaspingly as she ended 
 the first verse, the circle of faces rocked 
 before her and faded to a mist, and the one 
 face came closer, closer, until it was near 
 hers, and the mocking blue eyes were laugh- 
 ing to see her soul drift down to hell. She 
 clutched at her bare throat in an effort to 
 save herself from the gulf of darkness into 
 which she seemed to be falling. Her tawdry 
 dress of green and gold, gay with cheap 
 tinsel embroidery, was a travesty to those 
 who looked at her throbbing bosom and the 
 sad, beautiful face above it. Most of the 
 Italian audience, conscious of a tragedy which 
 they could not understand, sat silent, intent, 
 sympathetic : the strangers, ship's crews or 
 passengers for the most part, applauded 
 noisily. 
 
 231 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 The sound raised her to the hearing of the 
 music again : the band was waiting for her, 
 dwelling on their few notes to give her 
 time. Some few, Drexel among them, who 
 did not know the air, were looking at her 
 curiously. She pushed the heavy hair away 
 from her forehead in a vain attempt to bring 
 coolness to it, then dropped her arms to her 
 side and sang again : 
 
 " Non lagrima o fiore avra la mia fossa, 
 Non croce col nomme " 
 
 Her voice broke, and she only struggled on 
 with an effort. Half the people had risen 
 now, and were looking at her eagerly, wonder- 
 ing what it all meant. Audiences there were 
 not accustomed to find tragic songs thrust 
 upon them, and in such tragic guise. 
 
 Riall sat still, but with keen interest in his 
 eyes. This was evidently not part of her 
 usual performance then. Was she merely 
 anxious to make a scene, he asked himself, 
 because he was there ? 
 
 " Ah ! tu accogli la, oh Dio ! 
 Ah ! tutto, tutto, fini ! " 
 
 Her voice broke again in a desperate 
 232 
 
THE LOWER DEPTH 
 
 attempt to reach the high note, and was sud- 
 denly silent. 
 
 A thin stream of blood came through her 
 still parted lips, and her eyes lost sight of 
 even the blurred mist and the one face which 
 came near and mocked her. Drexel was on 
 the stage as she fell, and a vivid memory of 
 his arms around her, his hands, stained with 
 her blood, trying with desperate haste to 
 loosen her dress, went in grim company with 
 Riall on his way back to the ship and to 
 India. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE FINDING OF THE PATH 
 
 "If goodness lead him not, yet weariness 
 May toss him to My Breast." 
 
 George Herbert. 
 
 THE bare white-washed walls of a peasant's 
 cottage, with gaudy prints of the Virgin and 
 the King of Italy for its only decorations, 
 formed the interior setting of their life to- 
 gether. The narrowness of it drove them 
 outside for the greater part of the day, 
 where the broad hillside was theirs, the 
 width of skies and trees and water, and 
 above all, peaceful solitude. Even Theresa, 
 too listless to care much about her surround- 
 ings, felt the weariness of her weakness less 
 on the hillside. After a time too, she began 
 to take a faint interest in the change which 
 the day brought, in the budding of each new 
 plant around her, in the birds which crept 
 near her chair, encouraged by her stillness, 
 
 234 
 
THE FINDING OF THE PATH 
 
 Theresa had never lived for a day among 
 country life, and the strangeness of it proved 
 the finest of tonics. 
 
 Her illness had been a matter of several 
 weeks, the slowness of her recovery being 
 due chiefly to her own non-desire for life. 
 
 Drexel had come daily to the hospital, 
 even when there was no chance of seeing her ; 
 when she progressed somewhat, despite her- 
 self, he became her only visitor, bribing 
 D'Cruz to keep away. He had supported 
 him altogether since the sudden ending of 
 La Narino's engagement, and although he 
 grudged his scant earnings to such a creature, 
 Theresa's gratitude was ample repayment. 
 
 Gratitude for all Drexel had done for her- 
 self and Dominic was the first emotion of 
 which she was conscious when she emerged 
 from the stupor of her illness : the self-sur- 
 render of indifference joined the gratitude 
 when she became strong enough even to 
 think of the future. What did anything 
 matter now that she had renounced the 
 struggle against fate? It had been set for 
 her from the beginning, as it was for so 
 many of her people, and of what avail was 
 it to defy the world-plan of things? It was 
 
 235 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 the same with the half-caste in all parts of 
 the earth, she supposed this easy, almost 
 inevitable, return to their beginnings, and 
 her return would bring harm to no one but 
 herself. The dream which, almost un- 
 acknowledged to herself, she had at first had 
 of some day claiming her child again, had 
 faded long since from her heart : the dead 
 weight of life's low things had crushed it. 
 The effort to keep even on the lowest rung 
 but one of the world's ladder had absorbed 
 Theresa too much for her to dream at all. 
 And, above all, she was tired, so tired, and 
 too weak to sing or play for months to 
 come, and there was only the choice between 
 the hard bread of charity and Drexel. So 
 that sheer necessity forced her the short way 
 which weariness did not carry her towards 
 Drexel, gratitude making the way even 
 shorter. 
 
 He bargained with D'Cruz for freedom 
 from any foolish interference as the price of 
 his daily supplies. To have trusted him with 
 money enough to last the week would, Drexel 
 knew, only have resulted in a heavier carouse 
 on the Saturday and Sunday, and an empty 
 pocket for Dominic by Monday. So the old 
 236 
 
THE FINDING OF THE PATH 
 
 man hung about the theatre entrance each 
 night to receive his dole, and spent the other 
 hours in a fashion after his own heart long 
 sleeping, some eating, and much slow sipping. 
 Drexel would willingly have left him to find 
 a less easy way of slipping through life, but 
 the cunning which dies hard in the half- 
 caste gave hints of constant vexation to 
 Theresa should it not be made worth 
 D'Cruz' while to leave her in peace, and 
 Drexel wanted no jarring note in their hill- 
 side idyll. 
 
 The rent of the two-roomed cottage was 
 lower than a fifth-rate lodging in Naples, 
 and gave them the isolation Drexel wished ; 
 even the long up-hill walk after the theatre 
 closed appealed to him, the far twinkle of 
 the little lamp which sent him a welcome 
 bringing him more sense of home than he 
 had ever known. To the peasant woman 
 who came up from the next cottage to clean 
 their tiny domain, they were at once a 
 mystery and a despair. Their manage 
 Parisien she could understand, and, being 
 of the very poor, was little disturbed from a 
 state of chanty thereby ; but she was per- 
 plexe-1 and genuinely distressed by their 
 237 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 mutual lack of any sign of religion, by their 
 incomprehensible conversations, and even 
 more by their amazing silences. She con- 
 fided to her next-door neighbour, over their 
 vegetable gathering, that they were certainly 
 both heathen, and, it would seem, a little 
 mad, though harmless as yet. All that was 
 possible she had done ; since hints to the 
 signora that there was a chapel not far 
 distant were unavailing, she robbed her own 
 walls of their two art treasures, that at least 
 some token of religion might be in the 
 house. Not that she expected the oleograph 
 of Victor Emanuel to improve the condition 
 of their souls, but it made such a pair with 
 that of ^the Blessed Madonna that she had 
 not the heart to separate them. In time, if 
 the saints would but keep the snails well out 
 of the cabbages, she hoped to save enough 
 on their sale to buy a four-soldi image for the 
 poor mad couple's benefit, or even a holy 
 water stoup. 
 
 Theresa, who saw and spoke to no one but 
 Drexel and the old woman, came in time to 
 like her cheery, rambling talks, her lively 
 faith in all things in heaven, her goodwill 
 towards all in earth. She formed, in fact, 
 238 
 
THE FINDING OF THE PATH 
 
 Theresa's only link with actual life, the 
 means whereby she kept some manner of 
 grip on ordinary things. For her life with 
 Drexel, and the man himself, were unreal, 
 shadowy, strange; it was the very unreality 
 of it all which prevented it from becoming 
 sordid. Sometimes, listening to Drexel as 
 he told her some of the legends of his Polish 
 home, fantastic and gruesome by turns, the 
 chill air of a drear marsh seemed to come 
 between her and the warm sunlight, and she 
 wondered if the man were indeed a living, 
 tangible creature, or merely a spectre such as 
 moved through the tales. His dealings with 
 commonplace life seemed limited to the hours 
 in the theatre, when he fiddled light tunes in 
 grim silence, and earned the reputation of a 
 torvo from those who tried to break his 
 silence. To Theresa he was steadily kind, 
 and generally tender, save when a blacker fit 
 than usual was upon him and his fierceness 
 extended to the universe, that such a miser- 
 able thing as life should be possible. But 
 generally his mood was one of melancholy, 
 mixed with contempt, which reminded her of 
 a Chopin nocturne pleasing in its dreami- 
 ness, beautiful even in certain phases, but 
 239 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 deadly unhealthy as a constant attitude 
 towards life. It was a sort of slow mental 
 suicide which would, she knew, lead sooner 
 or later to physical destruction, unless the 
 man's feet were set back on the higher 
 reaches, and her hands could not lead him 
 back to his old world, since she did not love 
 him, but only pitied. The knowledge of her 
 own pity, and that it lay also beneath his 
 passion for her, was proof to Theresa of the 
 utter impossibility of the continuance of their 
 tie ; pity was too weak a thing to build such 
 a life upon. Gradually, as her strength re- 
 turned, she lived in a state of quiet expec- 
 tancy ; waiting for the inevitable ending to 
 their idyll. For it had kept that state 
 throughout, and the months on the hillside, 
 at least, held no bitter memories for her, 
 only a form of sadness that was softly tender 
 to the verge of gladness. He had been kind 
 to her always, even in his blackest moods, 
 and she was grateful to him grateful above 
 all that, thanks to him, she felt no touch of 
 added degradation. 
 
 The end came rather suddenly after all. 
 
 Drexel came home one night from the 
 theatre with a new look in his eyes a sort 
 240 
 
THE FINDING OF THE PATH 
 
 of visible self-respect, almost pride. A letter 
 from his home, he told her, had reached 
 the theatre after much wandering. " They 
 have found at last that I was merely a fool, 
 not a rogue the latter honour I left to my 
 brother Michael and now they clamour for 
 me that they may make restitution. Resti- 
 tution ! As if anything could undo these 
 two years ! " 
 
 He stared down at the thin belt of trees 
 below their cottage as they stood in the open 
 doorway, indecision and restored dignity 
 struggling for expression together. It had 
 been a fiercely hot day, and the night was 
 chill now. Theresa shivered as she gently 
 touched his arm. 
 
 "You will go back, Eugene?" she ques- 
 tioned. 
 
 ''Why should I?" he returned. "They 
 called me thief and swindler in place of 
 Michael, and I have lived through it. Why 
 try now to take up the old life again if I 
 can? Can you see me a dignified solicitor, 
 little dear ? And there is yourself what 
 would you do ?" 
 
 She looked up swiftly, then out at the 
 darkness again. 
 
 241 Q 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 " Yes," she said softly, " there is myself," 
 and went into the cottage. 
 
 She did not allude to the subject next day, 
 and Drexel was silent too. She was more 
 than usually gentle and thoughtful of him, 
 and the moodiness which would otherwise 
 have ruled him died down under her soft 
 touch. 
 
 As soon as he had started for Naples that 
 evening, she collected her few possessions 
 and pencilled a note to Drexel. The tone of 
 his regret the previous night, the additional 
 regret which a look on his face had warned 
 her was rising for himself, pointed her way 
 clearly. 
 
 " Go back, Eugene," she wrote him, " back 
 to your own people, and make a success of 
 your life. I am so grateful for your kindness. 
 Good-bye, good-bye." 
 
 As she went down the hill road she caught 
 a glimpse of the old woman, her next-door 
 neighbour, on her knees busy at her night 
 prayers. Yes, she would miss her and all the 
 strange, unreal, dreamy peace of their life 
 up there, but this ending was urgent now. 
 Drexel would go back, she knew, when he 
 found himself free. So she left the note at 
 242 
 
THE FINDING OF THE PATH 
 
 the theatre for him that he might be saved 
 the look of the empty cottage, and then went 
 over to D'Cruz' lodging. They would go 
 away again and pick up the old life; only 
 it must needs be on an even lower plane, 
 she knew, since her voice had never recovered 
 itself, and her playing was weak from want of 
 practice. 
 
 '.* * * # * 
 
 They had been wanderers for nearly two 
 years, playing in the open air for the most 
 part, sometimes in village wineshops, more 
 rarely in a third-rate cafe or hall. Theresa 
 avoided cities as much as possible, finding 
 that in the solitudes it was possible to exist 
 without further descent, and her ideals were 
 narrowed to the gathering of sufficient pence 
 to buy food for each day. Dominic had at 
 first whined incessantly at this swift change 
 from the easy existence of Naples, despite 
 the knowledge that there would, naturally, 
 have been an end to the ease with Theresa 
 and Drexel gone. But he became accus- 
 tomed to it by degrees, and the spell of the 
 shifting life wove itself around him. He 
 became more tractable, even docile, to 
 Theresa ; and a curious kinship grew between 
 243 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 them, the result of their utter isolation from 
 the rest of the world. She had accepted all 
 life had to offer her uncomplainingly, almost 
 content now that she had learnt its worst. 
 She grew stronger in the open air, and 
 Dominic's soddened brain cleared itself of 
 much of the mist which had fallen on it, 
 which made it possible for him to attempt 
 to play at fate for Theresa. 
 
 He had drawn her steadily northwards, 
 slowly enough not to raise any suspicions, 
 and staying finally at a village at the foot 
 of gloomy mountains. Theresa, doubting 
 the possibility of obtaining even a gift of food 
 in such a wild spot, would have gone on 
 before night fell, but D'Cruz, with a sudden 
 assumption of importance reminiscent of the 
 old Indian days, ordered a room at the little 
 ir\n, and, putting down their bundles and her 
 violin, suggested a walk up the pass as he had 
 something interesting to tell her. Mystified 
 and curious, she followed him, noting the 
 many little ways which had suddenly returned 
 to D'Cruz since he had somehow picked up 
 the mantle of his old importance. Yet he 
 was obviously a little afraid of her, for he put 
 off the announcement nervously, and they 
 244 
 
THE FINDING OF THE PATH 
 
 were a long way up the road before he said 
 abruptly : 
 
 " I heard this news months ago, but I have 
 been making sure of it. It was a long way 
 to come and get nothing ; but it is quite true, 
 and you have only to say what you will ask 
 Theresa. Your father he is here in the 
 monastery. You did not hear, then, that he 
 had left his throne and his evil ways to 
 become a monk ? We are going to see him, 
 or at least the Superior." 
 
 " What ? " cried Theresa sharply, " you 
 have told them, you have dared to drag me 
 to this ? " Sudden passion choked her, and 
 she was silent, standing rigid on the mountain 
 road like a statue of misery. 
 
 " I we are so poor, and he is anxious to 
 make atonement to all his victims," Dominic 
 answered, " and there is nothing to be done 
 but prove our statements, and if he cannot 
 believe them we will at least get something 
 out of him to be rid of us. Only he will 
 certainly credit you when he sees the like- 
 ness to himself," he concluded, proud as a 
 child of a new scheme. 
 
 Theresa looked at him for a moment, still 
 motionless. There was no sign of life in 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 the wild desolation save the towers of the 
 monastery above them, of which she vaguely 
 remembered to have heard that it was re- 
 puted the sternest in Europe. In the village 
 where they had been two days since, she had 
 heard, too, that a foreign prince had recently 
 come there, after making Europe ring with 
 his wildness, but the gossip had slipped from 
 her. 
 
 She tried to speak, to pour out some of 
 the tumult that surged within her : that 
 D'Cruz should have thought her despicable 
 enough to do this, to try to make money out 
 of her original misfortune. 
 
 But no words would come, save a gasping 
 cry of misery and abhorrence, as, turning 
 from him, she fled down the pass. 
 
 In the darkness she took a narrow side 
 path. Far beneath she could hear the dull 
 roar of the sea and ran towards it, heedless 
 of rocks or unknown ^cliffs, the one idea of 
 finding forgetfulness guiding her. She would 
 end it all now, out there in the merciful 
 waters, where there would be peace, and her 
 weary soul would be no longer driven to- 
 wards still lower descents. She had no clear 
 thought left, only a whirling confusion of all 
 246 
 
THE FINDING OF THE PATH 
 
 old memories clouded her brain as she ran ; 
 of Pierre Michel and old airs which he used 
 to hum ; of the bukkux-wallah's call as he 
 went through the bazar ; of all the hot 
 crowded life out East in which she had been 
 so much a part ; of Riall in the early days of 
 his passion for her ; of her child's face press- 
 ing against her own. Then she stumbled, 
 her feet slipped on the steep path, and she 
 went down, down through the darkness to 
 the quiet end she had sought. She seemed to 
 fall for countless hours in those few seconds, 
 and only thoughts of her child went with her, 
 only the little face showed clear through the 
 darkness, the soft little hands holding hers. 
 So vivid was the companionship that as 
 she felt herself suddenly stopped in her fall, 
 she looked to see the child beside her : 
 there was an afterwards, it would seem, 
 and her child had come to her again in 
 it. Then as she put out her hand to 
 touch the little one's, she felt only rough 
 wood and stone, and knew that the dream 
 had passed. She was lying across a mas- 
 sive slab of wood which, set in a cairn of 
 stones, jutted out on the narrow ledge of 
 earth. Below the ledge the sea's roar 
 247 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 sounded nearer, and in the silence she could 
 hear the waves being sucked in and out of 
 deep chasms. 
 
 Looking upwards she saw at first only a 
 deeper shadow against the darkness : then 
 she could see a tall pillar above her, with a 
 line of grey ness against it, and suddenly she 
 knew what it was that had stayed her. She 
 had fallen against the timbered supports of a 
 great crucifix, such as is set up for a land- 
 mark for sailors, and lay at its very feet as if 
 her soul had sought protection there against 
 the world and herself. The figure was but 
 a ghostly glimmer against the blackness at 
 first, but as she strained her eyes towards it 
 she saw the tortured face looking down upon 
 her, the eternal pity, the eternal love, still 
 visible for her, the carved symbols of the 
 eternal miracle which towers over the world 
 and over the travesty of itself which men set 
 up. Mechanically, she crept nearer and put 
 her arms around the base of the crucifix, with 
 the whispered cry that her race had always 
 used "Jesu, mercy." Then she lay still, 
 while in the darkness and the silence came 
 the knowledge at last of God and His pity 
 to her. The sea's roar sounded too far off 
 248 
 
THE FINDING OF THE PATH 
 
 now to disturb her, her child's face floated 
 before her eyes in a golden mist, and like a 
 tired wanderer whose weariness is at once 
 lulled when home is reached, she fell asleep, 
 cradled against the crucifix. 
 
 249 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 GOD'S PAYMENT 
 
 " Not tithed with days' and years' decease 
 He pays thy wage He owed, 
 But with imperishable peace 
 Here in His own abode." Rossetti. 
 
 THE journey had been long, so long, for the 
 very poor must needs travel slowly, but it 
 was nearly ended now, and at the end lay 
 rest. No one knew that she was coming 
 back to India, for since she knew that her 
 return must be slow, she had thought to save 
 the nuns anxiety by her silence. Yet the 
 sense of home-coming was strong with 
 Theresa, for the good Sisters would rejoice 
 to see her again, and would rejoice still more 
 when they heard that she had come to take 
 refuge with them. She leant back in the 
 train as it crawled through flat fields of rice, 
 stretches of j heel, or patches of jungle, quietly 
 content. She would have news of the little 
 250 
 
GOD'S PAYMENT 
 
 Gertrude from them she had always had a 
 curious confidence that the child had lived 
 and done well and then they would find her 
 some corner where she would be sheltered, 
 and there would be no more wandering, nor 
 ache of heart. Behind convent walls there 
 would be no reminder of her past, and in 
 time the religious life would efface even 
 the memory of it. Not that she would 
 ever be good enough for a nun, she told 
 herself ; but she might be a lay-sister some- 
 where, as the Mercy Sisters could not 
 have her as such, or even a teacher. Her 
 only trouble was concerning Dominic : what 
 would become of him she must needs 
 leave to fate, since she could find no asylum 
 for him in her thoughts, and he was both 
 too old and too incompetent now for any 
 sort of work. She could only hope that 
 Father Gavin would be able to place him 
 somewhere. 
 
 She had found D'Cruz searching for her 
 when she reached the village again after 
 that night beside the crucifix, and the meet- 
 ing was sufficient test of her exaltation. The 
 sign of it awed even D'Cruz, and prevented 
 much talk being necessary concerning the 
 251 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 previous night. Theresa, her new knowledge 
 making her tender even towards one who 
 would have dragged her down to any depth 
 by his sheer impotence, accepted him as an 
 inevitable part of the life which she must 
 still lead for awhile. Dominic, his brief 
 attempt at authority having gone out with a 
 flash, picked up the old life where he had 
 thought to drop it, and they began to retrace 
 the way that lay between them and Brindisi, 
 for she had set her face steadily towards 
 India. At Brindisi she found help enough 
 to send them on a good part of their journey 
 from a curious old man among the street 
 musicians there, who heard some of her story 
 and guessed the rest. Yet even then, her 
 return was slow, and she was full of a deep 
 content now to know that only a few miles 
 lay between her and her rest. The shifting 
 scene of field and village and jungle faded 
 from her eyes, to give place to that dream- 
 place in which she always pictured her child. 
 The chatter of high voices was stilled for her 
 by the one soft one which called her mother, 
 the brown faces around her were blurred to 
 give place to one of a fairness which saved it 
 from any reproach of chee-chee Philip's 
 252 
 
GOD'S PAYMENT 
 
 golden hair and blue eyes, she told herself 
 proudly, glad, mother-wise, that it should be 
 so, even though it placed the child somewhat 
 apart from her. Perhaps the Irish nuns 
 would have had some photograph of her, 
 and she would be able to feast her heart with 
 the sight of it. She would be more than 
 seven now, the little Gertrude, although it 
 was difficult for Theresa to think of her 
 save as the baby whom she had put away 
 from her. Mother Gertrude must hear 
 of her often from her cousin. It would 
 be good to know it all, to feel herself 
 in touch again with her child, although 
 apart and unseen. Through her shut eyes 
 she felt the graciousness of this new life 
 envelop her with its promise of peace a 
 peace fuller and deeper than any she had 
 ever known, even when Pierre had covered 
 her bare world with all the rose leaves that 
 he could. 
 
 There came the crash of splintering wood, 
 the roar of steam as it burst from its prison, 
 then women's shrill screams and wild cries of 
 men in mortal pain and terror, which frayed 
 away to dull moans or grim silence, and 
 Theresa's dreams changed to a void in which 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 the darkness came so swiftly there was not 
 even time for pain. 
 
 # # * * # 
 
 " The child grows, Sister Mary Brigid." 
 
 " Yes, she grows, Mother, and it is nearer 
 the saints she gets every day." 
 
 The two nuns stood at one end of the 
 little garden which they had literally torn 
 from the bog waste around them ; at the 
 other end, at the feet of a statue of the Christ- 
 child, knelt a child with long fair hair, her 
 arms crossed over her breast, her face, in its 
 still loveliness, looking more unearthly than 
 that of the statue itself. 
 
 " I asked once for whom did she say the 
 prayers," said Sister Mary Brigid, who had 
 taught the silent child from babyhood, and 
 loved her devotedly. " And she said for her 
 mother and her father but the most for 
 her mother, since she thinks that out there 
 in India none taught her to pray for herself 
 perhaps. She has the notion that her mother 
 also was dumb." 
 
 " Perhaps she was, Mother Mary Gertrude 
 
 did not tell me," answered the Mother 
 
 Superior, thoughtfully. Not even to her 
 
 valued mother-assistant would it be politic 
 
 2 54 
 
GOD'S PAYMENT 
 
 or charitable to say half the things she 
 thought or guessed from her good cousin's 
 reticence regarding the waif she had brought 
 from India. 
 
 * * # * * 
 
 The bare narrow room was still heavy with 
 the reek of chloroform, which met the stifling 
 May heat, and made the air quiver visibly. 
 An Indian hospital is many removes from 
 that almost home-like place in England ; the 
 spirit of " kuchpawani," which reigns over so 
 many affairs out East, seems to invade the 
 hospitals more particularly. The climate is 
 against the neat array of small tables with 
 their dainty flowers and ferns ; the tables 
 would utilise the air and space of which there 
 is all too little, and form nesting-grounds for 
 white ants, while the flowers would wither in 
 the fierce heat before they could all be 
 arranged. Moreover, there is less sentimen- 
 tality concerning sickness and death in India, 
 where the fatalism of the native creeps even 
 into the European's blood. One lives and 
 dies so much more swiftly in India as a rule, 
 that there is no space in one's life for sickly 
 emotion regarding the fashion of the living 
 and dying. One wants so few trappings for 
 255 
 
OUTCASTS OF THE EAST 
 
 the sheer facts of life and death, after all, and 
 the bare little room held all that Theresa 
 might need for these last hours of her stormy 
 life held even gladness as well as the grim 
 necessities, since Mother Mary Gertrude 
 knelt by her and Father Gavin had been 
 with her all morning. 
 
 She had asked for them when she was 
 carried to the hospital the accident had been 
 so near to Howrah * that the worst cases had 
 been sent over there for her mind was 
 keenly clear with pain, and she knew that 
 this was indeed the end. The operation 
 a feeble hope at best had only dulled the 
 agony and hastened somewhat the coming 
 of death. Father Gavin, despite his deep 
 joy at receiving her into the Church, could 
 not share the Mother Superior's grief at 
 the brevity of the time she would have to stay 
 with them. In his clear-eyed experience, it 
 was a continuation of God's mercy towards 
 her ; with that fatal loveliness which still 
 shone in the great eyes, although the past 
 eight years had been over such rough ways, 
 he saw little chance of peace for her even 
 
 * The chief terminus of Calcutta is also near 
 one of its large hospitals. 
 256 
 
GOD'S PAYMENT 
 
 under their protection. Theresa had not 
 spoken to them of her intention to leave 
 the world for a convent altogether. Yes, it 
 was God's mercy especially as Riall, now 
 part-owner of a thriving new drapery estab- 
 lishment, had that year brought out a wife 
 from Home, and was bidding fair to be a 
 success in every way. So there was less 
 regret in his sorrow than in Mother Ger- 
 trude's, and far more perplexity, for his 
 mind was chiefly occupied now with D'Cruz, 
 whose injuries were only such as to entail 
 a long period of disability. And, after all, 
 for what would he be able ? For what was 
 any average poor Eurasian able who was 
 not a mechanic, and had dragged through 
 life in the futile fashion of the race, hovering 
 ever between the black and the white in 
 them, their knowledge a mere smattering, 
 their capacity nought ? So the old vexed 
 problem beat in his brain all day, while 
 Theresa, all weary questionings why such 
 things should be put away for ever, lay 
 against Mother Gertrude's arm, listening 
 dreamily to all she had to tell of the child. 
 
 It was good, so good, to lie there, shel- 
 tered, held close in that mother-touch, with 
 257 R 
 
the pain ebbing away from her as life itself 
 flickered away. And God was good the 
 last flicker of the flame would surely hurt 
 no more than did that fall on the mountain- 
 side ; and at the end there would be the 
 crucifix the living Christ. 
 
 The cruel heat of the day passed at last 
 into something like coolness and there ceased 
 to be a quiver across the air of the little room. 
 At intervals she roused to speak to Mother 
 Gertrude fond talk of her child, tender 
 gratitude for all they had done for her ; 
 sometimes, as her mind clouded, she spoke 
 vaguely of Philip, but gently, sadly, with no 
 complaint or bitterness. Late at night, 
 Father Gavin returned to share Mother 
 Gertrude's watching. 
 
 The coolness passed into the chillness of 
 those hours before an Eastern dawn, the vivid 
 transparency of the night changed to the 
 greyness which comes to tell of another day's 
 heat. Across the clear veil of the sky crept 
 little ripples of greyness which swiftly turned 
 to faint pink, then broke over each other and 
 formed red waves that would soon be rushing 
 over a golden shore until the shore absorbed 
 them, and was in turn absorbed into the vast 
 
GOD'S PAYMENT 
 
 dome of blue fire which rules the Indian day. 
 Father Gavin, reciting the prayers for the 
 dying, shivered a little under the chillness. 
 The last sacraments had been given to the 
 tired soul, and there was nothing more to be 
 done but wait. 
 
 The faint voice from the bed had long 
 ceased to respond ; after a while even 
 Mother Gertrude's was silent also, and 
 quivering sobs answered him instead. 
 
 Then the nun rose, still holding the hand 
 which had been loosely clasped in hers. 
 
 " She is at rest, Father," she whispered. 
 
 The priest rose also, and looked down at 
 the beautiful face in silence for a time. 
 Then : 
 
 " May her soul rest in peace." He 
 sighed and looked across the bed at the 
 partition beyond which lay Dominic D'Cruz. 
 
 " But the problem," he said, " the problem 
 still remains." 
 
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