Harold's Bride. A tale. By A. L. O. E

Front matter

Alicia's Page /j Harold's Bride "Then He did hear me!" Page 210. T. Nelson and Sons London, Edinburgh, and New York Harold's Brtde A TALE BY J3L. X- <D E.. Author of " Driven into Exile,'" " Pictures of St. Peter." " The Shepherd of Bethlehem. Exiles in Babylon, &c. &c. THOMAS NELSON AND SONS London, Edinburgh, and New York 1889 preface. Many years ago a huge panorama of a vast extent of country was exhibited in London. Of what country it w-as memory retains no clear impression ; b .t I recollect a remark made by the exhibiting artist. Referring to the tints of some hills pictured in the panorama, he observed, " They ought to be natural, for I took my materials from the hills themselves." The artist's remark had slight weight, for the fact that he had used pigments taken from the actual soil was no warrant for the accuracy of his delineation ; but I am reminded of that remark by the circumstances under which the following tale has been written.

It w7as not penned in some study in London, nor in some rural home in an English county; the authoress was living, as it were, surrounded by the materials needed for her picture. The old missionary came in heated and tired from the daily round in zenanas to dip her pen and w7rite of a zenana. The materials for her touches of natural history lay, as it were, at her elbow. She might feelingly picture little inconveniences which she herself had experienced.

Preface

. Such of A. L. 0. E.'s readers as are already, from former volumes, acquainted with the Hartley brothers, may perhaps like to hear how they fared when they had crossed the ocean, and had entered on the mission life w-hich they had contemplated from boyhood. It may be that the tale will be thought suitable for reading aloud at working parties in aid of missions, and that it may help to give a more vivid idea of life in some of the more isolated stations in India. But not mere amusement is in view. A. L. 0. E. w-ould fain hope that some enthusiasts, who would undertake the work of carrying the gospel to the heathen more in a spirit of romance than that of earnest self-consecration, may be led by her book to reflect on what a solemn thing it is to be " allowed of God to be put in trust with the gospel " (1 Thess. ii. 4).

Some maiden, ere linking her lot to that of a missionary, may be induced to consider the responsibility attending the position of an evangel ist's wife. Something far more onerous is before her than the pleasant duty of making a cheerful home for a good man ; she must share the burden, she must aid in the labour, or she is likely to prove a hindrance instead of a helpmeet. By some women, even amiable ones, this responsibility is almost ignored ; but by being ignored it is not avoided. May some lesson be learned from the little weaknesses and mistakes of Harold's Bride. d&Tont citts. I. HOUSE-BUILDING, ... ... ... ... ... n II. AN EXOTIC, ... ... ... ... 21 III. HAPPY DAY'S, ... ... ... ... ... 26 IV. INDIAN TRAVELLING, ... ... ... ... 33 V. FIRST IMPRESSIONS, ... ... ... 4.3 VI. LITTLE FOES, ... ... ... ... ... 52 VII.

Chapter I. House-building

" What's this ? — not a coolie at work ; the place a litter of bricks and dust ; the pillars of the veranda not a foot high ! Instead of growing upwards, they seem to grow downwards, like lighted candles. The bricks also are good for nothing — chipped, broken, katcha [only sun dried], when I gave strict orders for pakka [baked]. Cannot a fellow be absent for a week without finding everything neglected, everything at a standstill ? — Nabi Bakhsh! Nabi Bakhsh!" The call was rather angrily given, and was obeyed by a dusky, bearded man in a large dirty turban, who made an obsequious salain to Robin Hartley, after emerging from some corner where this overseer of the building works had been placidly smoking his hookah. " What has become of the coolies ? have they all gone HOUSE-BUILDING. 12 to sleep V cried young Hartley, in Urdu more fluent than correct.

" The work seems at a deadlock, and you promised that I should find the veranda finished by my return. Do you think that w7e are to pay you for merely looking at rubbish like this?" Robin struck one of the bricks with his heel, and broke it to pieces. The excuses of Nabi Bakhsh need not be detailed, — how there had been a religious feast, and of course the men could not work ; then the grandmother of Karim had died, and of course every one had gone to the funeral. " I believe that she was the fourth grandmother that has died '" exclaimed Robin, half angrily, yet half playfully, for his wrath seldom lasted for more than a minute. " Feasts, fasts, and funerals, delays and excuses, one coolie doing nothing and another helping him to do it, — it's hard to get work finished in India. But call the men now, and let them make up for lost time.

My brother and the Mem [lady] will be here in a few7 days, and what will they say to a mass of confusion like this ?" Nabi Bakhsh went off to call the workmen. Robin, though just off a twenty -miles walk, pulled off his jacket, and set to work himself with all the vigour which youth, health, and light spirits can give. The youth talked to himself as he laboured, being fond of soliloquizing when no one was near with whom to converse. " Only a month to build a house in, and only one thousand rupees [less than a hundred pounds] with HO USE-B UILDING. 13 which to pay for bricks, mortar, and work ! It's w7ell that the place is a small one ; but big or small it w7on't be ready for Harold's bride. It's hard on a delicately nurtured young lady to be brought to such a bungalow as ours — -two bed-rooms, one sitting-room, and a place for lumber, with three missionaries to share with her the limited accommodation.

Besides, Alicia has no end of luggage. I cannot imagine where w-e shall stow it away. I suppose that Harold was right in marrying so soon — dear old fellow, he's always right — but I cannot help wishing that Colonel Graham had not been starting for England till April, so that his daughter's wedding could have been delayed till we had some corner to put her up in." Robin paused, w-iped his heated brow, and looked up at the tiny house on which he had expended a great deal of personal labour, as wrell as that of urging on the coolies and bricklayers, wrho, whenever his back was turned, w-ould sit clown for a smoke. Robin had with his own hands made all the doors, inserting in each the four panes of glass which made it serve as a window. Robin had constructed the w7ooden eye-lids, as he called them, to keep off the sun from the roshandans (upper window-s), which to a novice standing outside might give the false impression that the bungalow had an upper story.

Robin had trampled down into something like solidity the layer of mud on the roof, which was intended to moderate heat and keep out rain. Tiles and slates HOUSE-BUILDING. 14 were things unknown at Talwandi. The youth was a little proud of his work, yet, as he looked up at the uncompleted dwelling, an expression of doubt, almost of dissatisfaction, came over Robin's bright young face. " Bricks and mud have no natural affinity to beauty," he said, " not even to picturesqueness. As for comfort, even if we could get the veranda up and the mats down, the place would be too damp to be lived in. Poor Alicia must be content to squeeze herself into our nut shell — father and I in one room, she in the other, whilst the one sitting-room, backed, or rather fronted, by the veranda, must serve as drawing-room, dining-room, study, reception and school room, and whatever else be required.

Well, happily we are not likely to quarrel any more than do double kernels in one nut." Robin glanced down the dusty road, bordered with ragged cactus, which led to the small native town of Talwandi, which was the head-quarters of this branch of the mission. A town it wTas with some dignity of its own, as it boasted not only two little mosques with domes, and a big Hindu temple w-ith stumpy s™'re, but one house of some height and pretensions, domineering over some hundreds of low houses built of mud. " I wish that father would come home," said Robin to himself. " But he did not expect to have me back so soon, with the appetite of half-a-dozen jackals. Father had ordered nothing for himself but dal [a kind of dried pease] and chapatties [flat baked cakes of flour] : but I HOUSE-BUILDING. 15 wanted better fare.

As soon as I arrived I pronounced the death-warrant on the fattest hen in the compound, so there will be something fit for dinner." Robin resumed his work, still soliloquizing. " Dear father is not fit to have charge of his own comfort ; he is always thinking about people's souls, and has little regard for bodies. Harold and I had agreed together never to leave him without a son beside him, for thirty years of hard work are telling upon him ; but how could we help being absent on such an occasion as this ? Father himself would not hear of my not attending Harold's wedding, and Harold — " Robin interrupted himself in the midst of his sentence with the exclamation, "Here's father at last!" Mr. Hartley was coming along the cactus-bordered way, a heavy bag in one hand, an open umbrella held up by the other, and a thick hat made of pith on his head.

The missionary was pale, thin, and somewhat bent, with many a line on his face ; but his mild countenance lighted up with pleasure as he caught sight of his son. Robin flung down his mattock, and bound ing forward the youth greeted his parent with a most unconventional hug, wrhich was as warmly though more quietly returned. Robin's impetuous affection was more that of the child than that of a youth Avith down on his lip. It had often been said that Robin, with his rough curly head, his joyous spirit, and his absolute freedom from guile, would never, should he live to a patriarch's age, be anything more than a boy. HOUSE-BUILDING 16 Whilst, laughing and chatting, Robin is accompanying his father into the little house, the position of the Hartley family at the time when my story begins may be briefly described.

The circle consisted of the veteran missionary and his two sons. Harold, the elder, on receiving deacons' orders, had started to join his father on the mission-field in the Panjab. Robin, who was several years younger than his brother, had accompanied Harold, as the youth himself said, " as a kind of general helper, a Jack -of -all -trades — carpenter, blacksmith, builder, tailor, cobbler, and what not besides;" an unpaid but valuable servant to the mission. In vain the lad had been urged to complete his education in college. Robin perhaps under-estimated his owm powers as a student. He compared himself to a rough knotted branch that might do well enough for a bludgeon, but could by no skill be shaped and planed into a library table. He would be a stick in Harold's hand, and perhaps help him over rough bits of the road, or assist him to knock down some difficulty in his way.

Mr. Hartley made no objection to Robin's plans, for he yearned to have both his sons under his roof ; and Harold secretly rejoiced that his ow7n advice had not been taken, and that he should not be obliged to leave behind him a brother whom he would so greatly have missed. After about a year of earnest preparatory work at Talwandi, Harold had gone to the city of Lahore to pass a double examination — that which mission-agents must HO USE-B UILDING. 17 undergo, and that which precedes admission into priests' orders. Both examinations had been passed by the young clergyman with the highest credit. The effect of Harold's success was immediately seen in his being urgently pressed to act as temporary chaplain to a large English congregation during the very severe illness of him to whom the office belonged.

Harold had hesitated about accepting the post, being unwilling, even for a few weeks, to give up his own missionary work ; but he knew that for those few weeks' service he would be handsomely paid by Government, and money was urgently needed to start a school at Talwandi. " Not one pice shall be appropriated to my own use," Harold had reflected. " My time belongs to the mission ; but in procuring help for the school I may be serving my society even more effectually than by my personal efforts." So Harold consented to act as chaplain. The Bev. Mr. Cunningham's illness lasted longer than had been expected ; the weeks were prolonged into months. During this period Harold's clerical duties brought him into close and friendly intercourse with those over whose spiritual interests he had temporary charge.

The young missionary was welcomed almost everywhere, but speci ally in the house of Colonel Graham, an officer on the point of retiring from the Indian service. The colonel had a fair daughter, and Harold, at first almost uncon sciously, found that his visits to Graham Lodge were rendering his residence in the city to him very delightful. (143) HO USE-B UILDING. 18 There is no need to describe how these visits became more frequent, and how Harold increasingly felt that life would be a blank without Alicia. The young maiden, on her part, thought that she saw in Harold Hartley everything required to make her future life perfectly happy. Alicia, under a playful manner, had deep religious convictions. She loved Harold chiefly because she thought him the highest type of a Christian whom she ever had met with.

His sermons refreshed her soul, and seemed to lift her into a higher, purer atmosphere than that which she had hitherto breathed. Alicia was not a worldly girl. She felt that she w7ould rather share the humblest lot with Harold than rank and wealth with any one else. Mr. Hartley and Robin were not a little startled one day by a letter from Harold asking his father's consent to his suing for the hand of Alicia Graham. He had, as he wrote, already made the lady fully aware that his means were slender. Her father knew his position ; there had been no concealment of his circumstances, no attempt to hide the fact that not only toil but some thing of hardship might be a part of missionary life. Miss Graham had said that she feared neither toil nor hardship. " I think that Harold must have done the wooino already," observed Robin, "before asking your consent to the suing."

There was something like a smile on the lad's lips as HOUSE-BUILDING. 19 he spoke, but nothing of the usual mirth in his eyes. Robin was taken by surprise. He had never contemplated Harold's seeking a wife. Perhaps there was a touch of pain in the idea of any one standing in a closer, dearer relationship to his almost worshipped brother than he did himself. But Robin's frank, generous nature was not one to harbour mean jealousy. " Because I was satisfied with his companionship, there was no reason to suppose that Harold would be satisfied with mine," thought Robin. " I ought to rejoice that a true-hearted girl values my brother as he ought to be valued." Mr. Hartley did not speak for several minutes. As was usual with him, any emotion that stirred him deeply took the form of silent prayer.

He then slowly reread Harold's letter, pausing at every sentence as if to weigh its meaning. The old missionary then folded his thin hands, and said, rather as if speaking to himself than addressing Robin, — " If He who chose Rebekah for His servant Isaac, and made her willing to share his tent, have chosen this maiden for my son, the union must and will be blessed." So the suing followed the wooing, and both being successful, the engagement was duly announced to the world. An early clay was fixed for the wedding, on account of Colonel Graham's approaching departure. Mr. Hartley and Robin were, of course, requested to be present at the marriage. The elder missionary not only HOUSE-BUILDING. 20 was unwilling to leave his station without a worker, but he felt his own strength and spirits unequal to such a sudden plunge into society after years of seclusion.

Robin, he said, should be his representative upon the joyful occasion. The weeks that passed before Robin went to Lahore were very busy ones indeed to the youth. It was evident that a separate residence would be absolutely needful for Harold and his bride. Colonel Graham had given a cheque of £100 as a small contribution to the building fund, little thinking how far the trifling sum would be made to go. Mr. Hartley was generous almost to a fault, and at this time had left himself with scarcely a rupee in hand. The first weight of the pecuniary difficulty fell upon Robin, who worked early and late, but who could not, with all his energy, make one rupee do the work of five. Robin, however, worked cheerily, and marvels were performed as long as he remained on the spot ; but his absence, as we have seen, caused a sudden suspension of labour.

The young amateur archi tect returned to find that nothing whatever had been accomplished while he had been away, except in the way of a blunder or two, the effects of which he would have to repair.

Chapter II. An Exotic

As Robin and his father sat at the small dining-table (which the youth himself had made out of a packing case, painting the rough wood which would not take a polish), conversation flowed freely. Robin, as usual, engrossed the larger share. " This fowl, if somewhat tough since it was running about an hour ago, is to my mind as good as the turkey, with legs tied up with white satin ribbon, which figured at the wedding breakfast. What a display we had there ! — potted tongues, potted beef, hams, creams and jellies, and a huge cake, of course, iced and covered all over with fancy designs ; it was such a work of art that it seemed a shame to eat it. The bride's health was drunk in sparkling champagne. I think that her health would have had a better chance if all the rupees gulped down to do honour to the toast had been kept to give her a better house."

Mr. Hartley smiled and nodded assent. " I own that I did grudge the expense," said Robin, " when I heard the popping of so many corks. I wondered, also, what the bride would do with her elegant white satin dress in a jungle like this, with only the kites and crows to see it ! If there had been simpler dressing and plainer feeding, we might have had a good third room to the little dwelling, and had the bricks pakka throughout ! " " You seem to have been pleased with your new sister," observed Mr. Hartley ; " I careless to hear of the dress than of the wrearer." " I am more than pleased with Alicia. She has one of the sweetest faces that ever I saw, with eyes soft and large like those of a gazelle, yet sometimes sparkling with fun. Alicia's complexion is fair, but a little too pale, except when she flushes, as she did w-ith fright on the first evening after my arrival.

She certainly has uncommonly w-eak nerves." What caused her alarm ? " asked the father. " Oh, merely a poor little bat that, attracted by the lights, went noiselessly wheeling and circling around the room. Alicia started, trembled, put up her hands, almost screamed when the creature's shadowy flight brought it within a foot of her head ! It was difficult to keep from laughing. Then when the intruder had been expelled, Alicia asked me anxiously whether she would find many snakes at Talwandi. ' Not till the weather is warmer,' said I ; 'at present they keep snug in their holes.' Alicia did not look reassured. ' Can you not kill them ? ' she asked. ' I ahvays do when they come within reach of my arm,' I replied. ' I'll cut a stick for you to have handy if ever a snake pay you a visit.' You should have seen her look !

" continued Robin, laughing at the recollection. " I think that the snakes are in little dan ger from Alicia's prowess ; I doubt whether she would be a match for a baby scorpion." " I am sorry my new daughter is so timid," observed Mr. Hartley : " such nervousness may cause her distress in a wild place like this — twenty miles from civilized life, and these twenty miles of the roughest of roads." " I wonder how much of the lady's luggage will sur vive the jolting and bumping ? " said Robin. " Alicia has a number of wedding presents, enough to half fur nish a shop. They were all put out to be admired, and they covered three tables and, I think, two chairs besides." " Where shall we put them ? " asked Mr. Hartley. " A question I've asked myself twenty times, but I have never succeeded in finding an answer.

There is a piano, too, which Alicia is to play on, and I am to tune, though I have never tuned one in my life ! Some of the presents seemed to me funny. There were three silver fish-knives in satin-lined cases ; but where, oh where shall we find the fish ? " Robin burst into a merry laugh as he added, " If any one had consulted me as to what would be an acceptable gift, I should have suggested a big kitchen kettle or a dozen good iron spoons." " You must try the jhil [lake] for fish," said Mr. Hartley. "One clock (there were two) took my fancy," continued Robin. "The design on the top was evidently taken from Moore's song about the love-lorn mermaid who was in pity transformed into a harp. There w-as the siren as the poet described her : — ' Her hair, dropping tears from all its bright rings, Fell over her white arm to make the gold strings.' I thought, if her lover had been true, and had married the mermaid, how would the lady have enjoyed her new strange life on shore ?

After floating about serenely on summer seas, how would the mermaid have enjoyed being jolted along in an ekka [a very rough country conveyance], or even being swung from a camel ? It would have been a sad change for the poor siren, who would have felt like a fish out of water." Mr. Hartley saw that his son was not thinking alone of the fabled siren, and he observed with his quiet smile, — " Sad indeed for her to exchange her native element for another quite uncongenial, unless she were gifted with wings to raise her to one higher and purer than either water or earth." " I think that Alicia has such wings," said Robin more gravely : " she seems to be truly, earnestly pious. Had she not been so, she would never have been Harold's choice. Alicia spoke to me so nicely about helping in mission w-ork.

She has begun to read the Bible to her ayah, and has learned by heart all the first part of the parable of the Prodigal Son — in Urdu." " Good ! " was Mr. Hartley's laconic comment. " Alicia speaks the language like — well, of course not like a native, nor very grammatically neither, but very fairly indeed for a lady who has been but one cold season in India, and has had only servants on whom to practise. I daresay that in time she will make herself understood even by zamindars' bibis [wives]. Only I'm afraid she'll have — " :'What?" inquired Mr. Hartley as his son stopped short, ' Headaches," responded Robin. " Many missionaries have headaches," observed his father, who was now seldom without one. " Yes ; but some can take headaches, and other aches too, as a hunter takes a hedge : it lies in his way ; he goes over it or scrambles through it, spurs on, and is in at the death.

But not every one is a hunter." " You think, in short, that our bride has been too delicately nurtured, is of too soft a nature, too sensitive a frame, to bear the rough life which is before her ? " said Mr. Hartley. " I think that we're transplanting an exotic w7hich requires a glass frame," replied Robin ; " and we've nothing for it but a hard, rough wall, exposed to rude blasts. But I forget," the youth continued, resuming the cheerful tone which was natural to him, " our sweet exotic will have a fine strong pillar to lean on and cling to ; and w-ith the sunshine above and the pure air around her she may — yes, and will — rise higher and higher, till she may smile down on us all."

Chapter III. Happy Days

Harold allowed himself but a brief honeymoon ; but it was as bright as it was brief, especially to the young wife. The happiness of Alicia was undisturbed by the petty cares which, like musquitoes in the sunniest hours, occasionally buzzed about her husband. The very anxiety which Harold felt to shield his bride from the slightest annoyance or even inconvenience added considerably to his cares. It was he who had to think about ways and means. The young husband had believed that by economy on himself he had saved enough of rupees to supply every probable want ; but expenses came on which he had not sufficiently reckoned. Both at Colonel Graham's house, after the marriage, and at the bungalow lent by a friend of Alicia, there seemed to be no end to demands for bakhshish (tips). Khitmatgars, khansamars, chankidars, " all the others that end in ar," and a great many others that do not, came smiling and salaming, and hailing the young bridegroom as father and mother, and nourisher of the poor, even as flies gather round honey.

It was not in Harold's nature to be stingy, especially at so joyful a time. His stock of money appeared to melt like snow ; he would have barely enough, he saw, to cover travelling expenses. Yet, after all, what were such cares when Alicia was beside him ? Sometimes he forgot them altogether. When their conversation was on spiritual subjects, then, most of all, Harold realized what a treasure he had in his wife. At other times the expression of innocent joy and pleasant hopes flowed like a rippling stream from the lips of Alicia. " We shall have a girls' school, dearest," she said to her husband as she sat with her hand clasped in his ; " I have been taken to such nice ones by missionary ladies. I was charmed to see the rows of little girls with shining black eyes, gay chaddars, and such a quantity of glittering jewels.

When I have such schools of my own I shall feel like a hen in the midst of her brood of chickens. How delightful, too, it will be to carry happiness into zenanas, to go like a welcome mes senger proclaiming to captives that they are free ! I do long to see the delight pictured on the dark faces of those who have never before heard the glad tidings ! Oh, what a blessed lot is mine ! " Harold met with a smile the smile on the fair young face upturned towards his, yet felt that he must put some sober tints into Alicia's bright picture. " You must remember, my love," he observed, " that the work in Talwandi is rather that of clearing and breaking up ground than that of reapinga harvest. You must be prepared for some difficulties in a new station like ours, w-hich has been worked for scarcely a year.

When my father w-as moved to the Panjab he had a new language to learn, and not one of his native helpers beside him. He has had at Talw-andi very up hill and rather discouraging work." " Was not your father grieved to leave his old station and friends ? " asked Alicia. " Much grieved ; for there were many converts, most of whom he himself had baptized. But there were circumstances w-hich made the move advisable ; and my father, without a murmur, though not w-ithout a sigh, gave up his long -cherished hope of spending his last days in his old home and amongst his own people, and being buried in the same grave as my mother." " I think that it was very hard to send your father away against his will ! " exclaimed Alicia. " Missionaries must have submissive wills, my love, and think nothing hard that is right."