Angel: A sketch in Indian inkCroker, B. M. (Bithia Mary)
History
Angel: A sketch in Indian ink
Croker, B. M. (Bithia Mary)
British -- India -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
"If you move me, or touch me, I shall _scream_," such was her
diabolical threat, and as Angel was known to be a child of her word,
she was suffered to remain undisturbed. There she stayed, hour after
hour, wide awake, and motionless as a stone. In spite of all efforts
on the part of the doctor and nurses, the patient grew worse—the
fever, like an internal fire, seemed to consume the slender thread
of her existence. The verandah was now utterly deserted, even by the
dirzee; the plants were withered and black from want of water; insolent
crows promenaded over the matting, and the voices of the servants were
hushed. One could almost guess from the exterior of the premises that
the mistress of the house lay dying within. Colonel Wilkinson sat alone
in his dim little office; he had not the heart to read or write, or
even to tot up his accounts. An occasional low conference with Mrs.
Rattray or the doctor, and a spare and solitary meal, alone broke the
hot, heavy hours.
These whisperings conveyed bad news; his wife's condition was extremely
grave, and he could not hold himself blameless. Instead of investing
those six thousand rupees in jute and cotton mills, he ought to have
sent her and her children to the hills. He was face to face with his
own conscience. He confessed to himself that he was too fond of money.
Was this a case of saving money and losing life? Remorse is a stern
acquaintance, and Colonel Wilkinson blamed himself bitterly. Sad to
relate, in spite of all these searchings of heart, such is the force
of habit, and so strongly was he held by the grasp of avarice, within
half an hour of his self-condemnation Colonel Wilkinson was out in the
compound announcing to the milkman "that, now the children were from
home, one measure was sufficient;" and he took the same opportunity of
informing his cook "that a _two_ anna chicken was ample for broth."
That same evening the bulletin was more favourable; the patient
had recovered consciousness; she ceased to ramble about gores and
whalebone, dresses and debts; she slept for several hours, and in the
morning begged to see the children. Afterwards she talked for some time
with Colonel Wilkinson, and gave him two bills to settle—bills which
she would never have ventured to show him had she been in her normal
state of health.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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