The Road to Mandalay Part 16

The morning after her arrival Sophy was awakened by a soft tremulous touch on her hand; she opened her eyes and beheld her aunt stooping over her. She was clad in a shabby, splendidly embroidered red kimono, and appeared to have made a temporary recovery.

Mrs. Krauss offered her niece a warmly affectionate welcome and many caresses, and then, sitting on the side of the bed, asked eager questions respecting her mother and sister, their mutual relations, and all the family news; but made no allusion to the state of her own health, or to the dirty and neglected condition of her establishment.

"So Karl met you himself," she said, "although he is so busy; that was nice. He has a kind heart and I do hope you will like one another."

"Yes, I hope we shall," a.s.sented Sophy, but her conscience protested that this hope was vain--already she disliked him.

"He looks to you to step into Fernanda's shoes; but of course I won't have that. Fernanda had enormous wages. Oh, dear child, I can't tell you how I miss her," and tears stood in her dark eyes. "Karl has such odd, old-fashioned German ideas--you must not mind him--though he is getting more German every day. He says a woman is just a hausfrau, who must sew and cook and do whatever a man orders. She is to have no mind of her own--and very little amus.e.m.e.nt."

"Then, Aunt Flora, one thing is certain--I shall never marry a German."

"I dare say it strikes you as strange that I should have done so; but Karl has always been devoted to me. I suppose your mother has told you that, when I was eighteen, I ran away to marry Charlie Bellamy, whose regiment was under orders for Hong Kong; we were fearfully poor and fearfully happy; then in a dog-cart accident, Charlie was killed and I was taken up for dead. But I recovered, as you see. The Hong Kong people were angels to me--one's own country folks always _are_, when you are in trouble abroad. I was laid up for months. When I was better, Karl came forward and implored me to marry him; I was almost penniless and loathed the idea of going home, so that was how it happened. Karl was wealthy in those days, but afterwards he lost his money--our fortunes go up and down like a see-saw. I am afraid he is too fond of speculating and taking huge risks; he likes to be a man or a mouse. Just now he is not a mouse, but very, very rich. Well, my dear, I'll leave you to have a bath and dress; we shall meet at breakfast; it is many a day since I appeared there. Do you know I feel as if you'd done me good already!" and with a clinging embrace she departed.

As hours and days wore on, Mrs. Krauss became more and more charmed with her companion; it did not take her long to discover her unselfish character, amazing adaptability to these strange surrounding's and, above all, her gift of music. The invalid would lie p.r.o.ne on her sofa with a handkerchief over her face--rather suggesting the idea of a laid-out corpse--motionless and spell-bound, and when she spoke it was merely to murmur:

"Please go on, please go on, Sophy darling; your music is wonderful; you are my David and I am gloomy Saul. Oh, my dearest child, your exquisite gift has given me new thoughts, and opened the door of many delicious and half-forgotten memories!"

Besides soothing her aunt with dreamy and enthralling melodies, Sophy remembered her "job," and endeavoured to interest her in patience, in puzzles and the latest st.i.tch; but Frau Krauss had no taste for cards or puzzles. She was, however, profoundly interested in Sophy's pretty frocks, examined them, priced them, and tried them on; otherwise she preferred to lounge among her cushions and talk, whilst her niece, who busied herself mending table linen, proved an invaluable listener.

"You are a treasure, my sweet child," she remarked; "I have so often longed for a companion of my own cla.s.s and nation. All my neighbours are German; here in Kokine is a German colony; they all dine and have music, and gossip together, and I am rather out of it. Of course, I speak German, but not very fluently. There are two or three uncommonly smart women who speak English as well as you do, and their children have English names; but all the same, they hate us in their secret hearts and often give me a nasty scratch; so I needn't tell you that I don't open my heart to _them_. The English live in another direction--down the Halpin Road, or out by the Royal lakes, and I have really grown too lazy and careless to go among them. Besides, what is the good? My friends return to England, new people come, but as for poor me--I stay on for ever."

"And, of course, you would like to go home, Aunt Flora, would you not?"

"For some things, yes! But how can I leave Karl? Also, I feel that this country has got such a hold upon me--oh, such a hold!" And she closed her eyes and sighed profoundly.

Three whole weeks had elapsed since Sophy arrived, and during that time she had not been outside the compound. Herr Krauss had departed up country and taken the car with him; in the meanwhile Sophy had contrived to carry out some improvements, and induced her aunt to dismiss and replace several worthless servants. There had been a grand cleaning, dusting, and polishing; the drawing-room was rearranged, the compound cleared and tidied, flowers decorated the sitting-rooms--and the hens had been interned.

All this Sophy had not contrived to manage without a.s.sistance and advice; several German ladies had been to call, to inspect, to offer instruction, and to criticise. There was Mrs. Muller, a remarkably pretty, smart young woman (wife of the head of an important firm, who spoke English perfectly, played bridge and the violin). She and Sophy had an interesting musical talk, and arranged about duets and practisings; it was she who helped with regard to weeding out the staff, finding subst.i.tutes, and engaging a _dirzee_ to mend and make.

Augusta Muller was a born administrator, and the head of the neighbouring community. Another visitor was Frau Wendel, a dowdy middle-aged woman, who wore a hideous check cotton gown (much too short), green spectacles, and velvet boots; she stared hard at Sophy and asked her many personal questions. There was also the Baroness--a little lady with small patrician features, faded light hair and a brisk manner; and last, but by no means least, Frau Wurm, who daily arrived to fulfil a promise to Herr Krauss, and every morning, for one solid hour, imparted to Sophy instruction in the management of native servants, the reckoning of bazaar accounts, the coinage--rupees and pice--and the proper way to keep house linen and stores. She also gave her lessons in cooking on the oil stove in the veranda--not invalid delicacies, but dishes that were favourites with the master of the house, including confitures and Russian salad.

Frau Wurm was a competent teacher--practical and brisk. She drew up a list of menus, of shops to be dealt at, and hours for different tasks.

As she worked she talked incessantly in excellent guttural English; her talk consisted of a series of personal and impertinent questions--her curiosity was of the mean and hungry cla.s.s, and to every reply, satisfactory or otherwise, she invariably e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "Ach so!"

Among other matters she desired to know Sophy's age--the age of her mother--and sister; if their washing was given out; who had paid for her pa.s.sage and outfit; where her mother lived, the rent of her house, and number of servants.

"So she keeps _three_ servants!" she exclaimed. "Ach! but I thought she was poor!"

"No, not poor," replied Sophy. "Mother has a pretty good income."

"Ach so! and that is the reason, I suppose, that you cannot cook or make your own frocks, or do anything useful. Are you engaged to be married?"

"No," replied Sophy with a laugh, "not yet."

"Ach so! I do not think your uncle will permit you to marry any of those silly young English officers, who play games all day and are ashamed to wear uniform. Have you any relations in the Army?"

"Yes, I have two cousins; one in the Flying Corps and one in a submarine."

"Ach so! That is _most_ interesting. Some day you will tell me all about them, will you not? I like to hear about submarines."

"Very well," said Sophy, who was busy mixing a pudding according to an elaborate German recipe.

"Yes, you are getting on," admitted Frau Wurm patronisingly. "You will be a good little housekeeper before I have finished with you. Tell me--how is your aunt to-day?" she asked abruptly.

"She seems better, much better."

"Yes, much better--better since yon came; you rouse her, though she doesn't get up now till eleven o'clock. She suffers from such a strange complaint--very mysterious," she added with a significant sniff.

"I don't think there is anything mysterious about neuralgia."

"Oh, yes, there is," rejoined Frau Wurm, lowering her voice; "we often talk it over and wonder. Long ago she was as others; now she is different, and seems but half awake--always so jaded and feeble and vague. There was only one who understood the case--that was Fernanda, and she has gone away, ach so!"

Sophy found her present life unexpectedly strenuous. The mornings were devoted to incessant house-keeping, writing lists, and making pickles and German condiments; in the afternoons her aunt absorbed her time.

She did not seem to come to life till then.

"I know I am selfish," she confessed, as she looked through a number of invitations and cards which had been left for Sophy. "I do so want to keep you to myself; I don't wish to share you with the Maitlands and Morgans and Pomeroys; you have brought me a new lease of life. Of late I have felt like a half-dead creature, without even the energy to open a book, much less to get up and dress. I have the Burma head, and take _no_ interest in anything."

"Then do please take an interest in me, Aunt Flora," said Sophy coaxingly, putting her arm about her and smiling into her haggard eyes.

"Very well, my dear; yes, I will--and at once. I shall take you out and amuse you. No time like the present! To-day I shall telephone for a motor, get Lily to look out my smartest clothes, and you and I will make a round of calls. You know it is the duty of a new arrival to wait on the residents?"

Sophy nodded.

"We will go in the afternoon, when they are all out, and so get through a number. There are no end of sets here: the Government House, the civilian, military, the legal, and above all the mercantile--they really _count_, these merchant princes, being numerous, wealthy, and so generous and charitable, and can snap their fingers at precedence.

Then there is the German set, to which I should belong--but I don't. I tell Karl that my father was an English General and I am English--a real Englander. We differ in so many ways from these German women--in what we eat, like, and believe, and how we make our beds, do our hair, and even how we knit!"

Dressed for making a round of visits, Mrs. Krauss presented a different appearance from that loglike invalid her niece had first beheld. She was a picturesque, graceful woman, with a pair of heartrending dark eyes, while a little touch of colour on her faded cheeks illuminated a face that still exhibited the remains of a remarkable beauty. Mrs.

Krauss, in a hired and luxurious motor, made a rapid round of calls among the princ.i.p.al mem-sahibs--who, as predicted, were not at home--and wrote her own and Sophy's name in Government House book.

The last house they visited was "The Barn." Mrs. Gregory received them and gave Mrs. Krauss and her niece a genial welcome. She and Mrs.

Krauss had known one another for years, but had never been really intimate or close friends. Mrs. Gregory was energetic, modern and vivacious; the other, a somewhat lethargic beauty, was not interested in the burning questions of the day, and had long ceased to take part in local gaieties; but her niece, as Milly said, was charming, and Mrs.

Gregory felt immediately inspired by a liking for this pretty, graceful, unaffected girl. Sophy, for her part, was delighted with this large, English-looking drawing-room, with chintz-covered furniture, quant.i.ties of flowers, books, an open grand piano, and a pile of music. The hostess, too, Mrs. Milward's cousin, attracted her and made her feel at home.

"And what do you think of Rangoon?" inquired Mrs. Gregory.

"Oh, do not ask her," interposed Mrs. Krauss with a dramatic gesture, "she has been with me for more than a fortnight, and this is the first time she has been beyond Kokine. It is all my fault; she has had such a lot of housekeeping to see to and take over, and she is such a delightful companion that I have not been able to bear her out of my sight."

"But, dear Mrs. Krauss, we cannot allow you to appropriate Miss Leigh altogether. I hope you will spare her to me now and then. Perhaps Miss Leigh could come with me to the Gymkhana dance next week?"

"I should like it very much indeed," said Sophy, glancing interrogatively at her aunt.

"Well, if I cannot take her myself, I shall be glad if you will chaperon Sophy. She has not had any amus.e.m.e.nt yet and one is young but once! And now we must go; no thank you, we won't wait for tea. I intend to rush the child round the lakes--she has not seen them--and then do some shopping in the bazaar."

After the departure of her visitors, Mrs. Gregory stood in the veranda and watched them as they sped away together--the dark faded beauty, the pretty, fresh girl--and said to herself:

"I wonder!"