Anglo-Indians -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
"I mean to go to see old Razat Sing, too," she declared. "My husband
will give him quarters, and he can sweep up the leaves in the garden;
of course, it will be a change from his home, but still it means food
and shelter. If I could pay off his debt, I would, but if I began to
release the poor slaves, I should never have done--I might as well try
to empty the sea with a tea-spoon."
At three o'clock the next morning the three ladies set forth on their
charitable errand; the two girls carried a piece of calico for a turban
and a little shawl, Mrs. Lepell some rupees. On their way they were
overtaken by Salwey, who, strange to say, was also about to look up the
unfortunate ryot; he dismounted and walked along with Verona, his aunt
and Pussy being in advance.
It was a beautiful February morning; the dew was still glistening on
the grass, the air was cool, the sky blue and cloudless; presently
the little party came in view of a dwelling, standing some way off
the road. There was a well, an enclosed patch of garden, a ruined
cart-shed, and at the back some cow-sheds. The whole place had a
forlorn and dilapidated appearance, but once upon a time had evidently
some pretensions to importance.
Mrs. Lepell and Verona went to the door and knocked gently--no reply.
They opened it and entered; the room was bare and scrupulously clean.
The fire was out; near it were some earthen pots, an iron spoon and
plate; some very old harness hung on the wall; in one corner was a
plough and a battered leather bucket. The inner room, into which they
peeped, was dark; there they discerned a string bed, on which lay a
huddled-up figure under a tattered coverlet.
Mrs. Lepell addressed this figure in Hindustani, but there was no
reply. She went nearer, and turned back the comli, or blanket; the
old blind woman lay with her face to the wall; she did not move when
her visitor placed her hand on her shoulder, for she was quite dead.
Charged with this appalling discovery, Pussy darted out to break the
news to Salwey, who had been fastening up his horse. When he came in
and surveyed the still figure on the charpoy, he looked very grave;
then, as he led the way into the outer room, he said to the three
ladies:
"Will you wait here? I will be back in a moment."
In a very short time he returned; he had an open clasp knife in his
hand.
"It was as I feared," he said, "the poor old chap is dead too; he
hanged himself with the well rope--I have just cut him down."
Having locked up the house of death, Salwey rode off at once to make
arrangements for the inquest, while the three ladies returned home.
Pussy, who was weeping bitterly, sobbed to her sister:
"You remember yesterday, Verona, what poor old Razat Sing said, 'he was
asking for their lives'--it was true."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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