Anglo-Indians -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
As she concluded she had pushed open a door, and Verona found herself
in a low bedroom, lit by a flaring wall-lamp and reeking with heat and
oil. Two women were engrossed in a game of cards--(oh, such greasy
black cards!)--a little grey-haired ayah, who squatted upon the floor,
and a fat old person, who was seated in a battered cane-chair; She had
a large, brown, good-humoured face, from which her reddish hair was
tightly drawn back and fastened in a knob. Her features were small
and well formed, but disfigured by several dark warts; that on her
left eyebrow, taken in connection with one on her upper lip, gave a
comical, interrogative expression to her otherwise placid countenance.
She wore a turkey-red petticoat, a Kurta--the short-sleeved jacket
affected by native women; over her shoulders and bare, wrinkled arms
was thrown a strip of embroidered muslin; heavy gold ear-rings and a
massive necklace completed the costume of Mistress Baptista Lopez.
"Aré, so this is the girl," she exclaimed, as she put down her cards
and extended a dumpy hand. For a moment she stared at the visitor in
expressive silence, then turned to her daughter with a wheezy laugh,
and said, "Aré, Bapré Bap! Now who would think she was my grandchild?"
(Who, indeed!)
Her little black eyes considered every item of Verona's appearance,
from the crown of her dark head to the tip of her neat shoe.
"What do you think of her, Nani?"--(Hindustani for grandmother.)
"She looks like a Burra Miss-Sahib; and is awfully handsome. Soon,
soon, she will be married, and you will be glad of that!"
As Mistress Lopez uttered this prophecy she again looked up at her
daughter and laughed. Her laugh resembled the sound emitted by a pair
of broken bellows.
"I'm sure _I_ wonder she was not married long ago!" rejoined Mrs.
Chandos in an aggrieved tone.
"Oh, but Fernanda would not let her," explained the old woman. "I
know her ways! And so you lived with Fernanda Gowdy for years," now
addressing herself to the girl. "She and I were cronies together at
the Kidderpore school; the Kidderpore was such a big place, and stood
in a great park, and now and then the lady in charge gave a great ball
to the officers and people. Anyone could choose a bride. Fernanda was
a beauty, my! such a figure! You might blow her away! That Scotchman
only saw her twice before he made an offer of marriage. She was just
sixteen. I was married at eighteen. My! my! my! whatt a long time a-go;
and Fernanda is dead! Did you like her?"
"Yes," replied Verona, "she was good to me always. I was very fond of
her."
"But left you no money, no-a--not one pice. Eete was too bad! Aré, it
was a shame! Yet she never was a mean girl!"
"She intended to provide for me, and she gave me a first-rate
education."
"Ah, that is so; and you have learnt to speak and look like some big
swell. Oh, oh, yes! you are a beautee; you will cut out Dominga."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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