Chronicles of Dustypore: A Tale of Modern Anglo-Indian SocietyCunningham, H. S. (Henry Stewart), Sir
History
Chronicles of Dustypore: A Tale of Modern Anglo-Indian Society
Cunningham, H. S. (Henry Stewart), Sir
British -- India -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
Day by day some piece of attire was discarded as too intolerably heavy
for endurance. The morning ride became a thing of the past, and even a
drive at sunset too fatiguing to be quite enjoyable. Maud felt that she
had never--not even when Miss Goodenough had locked her up for a whole
summer afternoon, to learn her 'duty to her neighbour'--known what
exhaustion really meant till now.
The children were turning sadly white, and Felicia began to be anxious
for their departure to the Hills. Maud would of course go with them, and
Vernon was to follow in a couple of months, when he could get his leave.
Much as she hated leaving her husband, Felicia was on the whole
extremely glad to go. The state of things at home disturbed her. Maud's
outspoken susceptibility, Desvoeux's impressionable and eager
temperament, Sutton's unconsciousness of what she wanted him to do--the
combination was one from which it was a relief in prospect to escape to
the refuge of a new and unfamiliar society. Felicia's buoyant and
hopeful nature saw in the promised change of scene the almost certainty
that somehow or other matters would seem less unpromising when looked at
from the summits of Elysium.
For Elysium accordingly they started. Three primitive vehicles, whose
battered sides and generally faded appearance spoke eloquently of the
dust, heat and bustle in which their turbulent existence was for the
most part engaged, were dragged one afternoon, each by a pair of highly
rebellious ponies, with a vast deal of shouting, pushing, and
execrating, into a convenient position before the hall-door, and their
tops loaded forthwith with that miscellaneous and profuse supply of
baggage which every move in India necessarily involves, and which it is
the especial glory of Indian servants to preserve in undiminished
amplitude. Suffice it to say, that it began with trunks and cradles,
went on with native nurses, and concluded with a goat. Vernon sat in the
verandah, smoking a cheroot with stoical composure and interfering only
when some pyramid of boxes seemed to be assuming proportions of perilous
altitude. He was to travel with them, establish them at Elysium, and
ride down sixty miles again by night--a performance of which no
Dustyporean thought twice. Maud, to whom one of the creaking fabrics was
assigned in company with the two little girls, found that (the feat of
clambering in and establishing herself once safely accomplished) the
journey promised to be not altogether unluxurious. The Vernons' servants
were experienced and devoted, and every detail of the journey was
carefully foreseen. The interior of the carriage, well furnished with
mattresses and pillows, made an excellent bed; a little army of servants
gathered round to proffer aid and to give the Sahibs a passing salaam;
friendly carriages kept rolling in to say 'Good-bye.' Sutton, who had
been kept away on business, galloped in at the last moment and seemed
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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